What on earth

Makes you think you have the right to talk shit about me or my son, let alone on his birthday. Stupid bitch. He is two years old, and no matter what problems you have with me, he didn't do shit to you. He is only a baby. Why would you think it's ok to put up a blog that states in the title it is about him and the fact that today is his birthday...and then make it so that I can't see it? What is wrong in your head that you think this is ok? As a matter of fact what is wrong with you that makes you think it's ok to talk shit about a 2 year old? What are you, 4? I cannot believe your audacity and stupidity... Whore.

Journey Towards Initiation: My First Year and a Day

I am a witch. An initiated first degree Gardnerian-Alexandrian Wiccan to be precise. Trained and initiated by those that were trained and initiated before me. I have made some vows, there are some things I cannot tell you, but for the most part, this is the story of how I got here.
.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.
It all started one uneventful evening surfing the web with my roomates. We were loking through the religious pages, just to see what they had to say. We happened upon a Wicca page which looked rather interesting so I decided to read it. I had heard of Wicca of course, but I had dismissed it like so many others do. Dismissed it as the shock religion of the teen goth culture. A bunch of confused Christian raised children rebelling against their parents in any way possible. Reading this site I saw that there was much more to it than that.
You see, I have always been fascinated with theology, and the ancient pagan religions in specific. My parents, the wonderful people that they are, knew that I would not accept any religion without first investigating my options. They taught me to accept everyone's faith, learn as much as I could, and make my own. I was an agnostic. I had faith in a higher being, but I didn't know, nor did I really care who it was. I figured I would find out when I died, or I wouldn't.
That night I read, and read, and then read some more. I read the entire website, and a couple others. I was shocked to find that most of the things that I had taken from other faiths were all in the same place. Plural gods and goddesses, heaven, but no hell, reincarnation, and so much more. It was all there. My roomates laughed at my enthusiasm. My random exclamations, agreeing with that which I was reading. I made the decision that night that I wanted to find more of these people. I wanted to join a group of like minded individuals. I wanted to celebrate the change of seasons, I wanted to sing and dance and find a group of people to sing and dance with me.
I started searching. I found books. Books upon books. "Textbooks" designed to teach one the craft and allow them to "self initiate". Novels about young women lighting candles with a snap of their fingers and flying through the night on broomsticks. What I did not find however was one single non-fiction book about what it is really like. Nothing to say, I have been where you are. This is how I got through. That is what this book is. This is my story. My journey. If you are looking to learn the craft, put this book down, I am not here to teach you. If you want to share my experience, I invite you heartily. Pull up a chair though, it was a very long year and a day.
.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.
Several weeks after my fateful internet adventure I got into the car with my mom. She was being very supportive as always and was taking me around town to try to find that elusive group of people with which I would share a religion. We had looked through the phone book for occult shops and found 2 different listings. The first was a large chain of stores located all around town. The second, a small place I had never heard of, named after a little known Jimmy Stewart movie.
We first went to large chain store located nearest us. Inside I was inundated by the sight of crystals hanging from everything. Large containers of stones to which 2 women seemed to be talking.
"I only take those which speak to me," one of them said when I looked at her.
Ok then. Shye seemed to mean this quite literally, so Idecided to talk to the store clerk, leaving the woman asking the stones which of them would be willing to help her.
Everything in this store was beautiful and very expensive. I commented to the clerk that I was thinking about becoming a Wiccan and did she have any reccomendations. She told me about a couple of books with a bored look, and then said that they offered a six week course for "only" $250 that would end with me having my very own book of spells photocopied right out of the books that they had there. I thanked her and said I would think about it.
I left that store disappointed. Was this all I would find? A world of people talking to rocks and bored teenagers offering me a six week course in Wicca? Where were al lthe real witches? Was the craft so secret that one had to be born into it to get the proper training? We left that store, but decided to go to the other one anyway. Maybe they, at least, would have some information on how to join a coven, if it was even really possible.
An hour later we finally found it. Nestled in a small shopping center I had driven by dozens of times. We pulled up and took our first good look at the place which would become my second home for the next four years. Painted on the window in fancy lettering were the words that would change my life. "Free Wicca Classes." Could it be true, could this be the place I was looking for all along?
As we entered the store a small bell tinkled in the doorway. This was a sound I would become very familiar with. We stood to take a good look around. The thing I remember most was the smell. There was a wonderful incense burning, sweet and smoky atthe same time. It was a very comforting smell. The store was lit perfectly, dim enough to give it some atmosphere, but bright enough to read the covers of the books, and the lables on all the jars. Boy were there jars. Herbs and oils lined one entire wall. Such strange names they had. Dragons Blood ink and oil, Doves Blood ink, Crown of Success oil, Money Drawing, Fast Luck, Come to Me, Hexing. More than I could ever read in a day. The other walls had books, candles of every shape and size, incenses, charcoals, and bath salts. In the center there were glass cases which held jewelry, stones, a few crystals, statues of many gods and goddesses. On the center shelf, upon a pedestal was a beautiful Egyptian goddess, with wings spread, looking serenely out onto the horizon.
"Bright Blessings. May I help you?"
We had been standing and looking around at this room right in the doorway. I looked to my right and saw an older woman. She looked frail, but exuded a strength that one rarely sees in this world.
"Ummm, yeah, I was kinda thinking about um converting or...whatever it is when you want to switch to um Wicca or something."
I was stammering like an idiot. With one glance I could tell that this woman had forgotten more about thecraft than I would ever know. I felt suddenly insecure, like a foolish youngster that I had judged others to be. I felt that at that very moment I was being judged, that she was seeing if I was worthy of even speaking to. Then she smiled. She told me all about the books that they had for beginners, she sold me a "grab bag" that had all of the components of a spell, candle, oil, incense, charcoal, bath salt, as well as a small pendant of the same goddess that stood watching over their showroom. She also told me all abouttheir Wicca classes, and that they had another one starting soon, and that she thought I should come.
She also showed me their temple room. A huge altar dominated one wall of the room, yet another figure of this same goddess perched atop this altar, along with many, many burning candles, most in jars, some not. There were quite a few other things on this altar as well. A sword, two knives, a large brass bowl on a cushion with a small thing that appeared to be a one handled rolling pin beside it. Other things as well, far too many to list, but these were the most prominent. She explained that this was where the students who did not have an altar at home could do their spellwork. She made me feel very welcome.
I left that store feeling much better about this choice of mine. I had signed up for these Wicca Classes and was to be expecting a call within the next month or so. The next few weeks were a bit of a whirlwind. I was reading the books that I had purchased. I did the spell that I purchased, it was a success spell and I got a new job, offered to me within hours of my candle burning out. I began to look atthe world in a different way. I saw balance in places I had not seen it before. The male and female aspect of everything. There is no good without evil, there is no life without both male and female, and there is nor order without chaos, but without balance all is chaos.
.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.
By May first I had gotten the phone call, all they said was to bring a notebook and a pen, and to be there by 7pm on Wednesday. That was when our classes were to be held, 7pm on Wednesdays.
I entered the store at 6:30 pm on the assigned Wednesday, filled with trepidation. Who were these people? Would I like them? Had I made the right choice? I saw other people waiting like I was, there were about 30 nervous looking people with notebooks and pens, and about 35 more wearing hooded robes. Some on white, others in black, with different colors on the edges of their sleeves. All were wearing knotted ropes tied around their waists, and all had knives tucked into these ropes.
At 7:15 or so several of the very friendly young men and women in white ushered us into the temple room and seated us on cushions on the floor. A young man in white came up to the altar and took the brass bowl and rolling pin looking thing. He struck the bowl twice with the cylinder of wood and an immediate hush came over the room. With each strike came a loud, clear ring. I had never seen a bell like this. After about two or three minutes he struck the bell again, this time three strikes. Then he put the bell down and went to join all the other robed people in the store section of the building. We all sat there, looking around, no knowing what to expect next.
A woman entered the room. An older woman, with jet black hair and a crown upon her head. She wore robes of black and purple. Hers were the only ones of those colors in the room. Everyone in a robe parted to make way for her, and then she stood in front of us. She took several full minutes looking each of us in the eye in utter silence. And then she spoke.
"So, you want to be witches."

to be continued...

My first kisses...

I have decided that I want to start my own blog challenge. So every now and again I will blog about something and challenge all of my readers (friends or not) to do one of their own about the same subject.
Today will be your first kiss.
There is a family of people that I used to hang out with a lot. Most of them are here on myspace now, including their mom. My first kiss, and my first real "makeout session" both took place within their home. The middle daughter, whom I shall refer to as "Blondie" was part of my group of friends and their mom was pretty cool, so we were always at their house. Blondie loved parties. The fancier the better. Her birthday was near Christmas time and she always had a huge party for all of her friends, that inevitably turned into a sleepover.
My very first kiss ever was at the first of her birthday parties. Her mom taught us this kissing game. A little strange I know, especially considering the came used a lit cigarette. I wonder sometimes, now that I am a mom, what she was thinking. But at least she was in the room with us, making sure nobody was smoking the cigarette. That's something I guess. Anyway you take a plastic cup and put a tissue across the top held on by a rubber band. You put a coin in the center of the tissue and proceed to burn holes in the tissue. Whoever drops the coin has to kiss someone. I was very good at this game and by the end there was only me and 1 guy who hadn't kissed anyone. They realized this and decided that we must kiss.
I was painfully shy as a kid and teen. I did not want my first kiss to be in front of a group of people I went to school with with a strange guy I had never net before while they were chanting Kiss Kiss Kiss at me. I walked out of the house and walked around for a few minutes. When I got back they were still trying their damndest to talk me into it. They guy and I went into one of the bedrooms in the house. We discussed it and decided they wouldn't leave us alone unless we did kiss. He was nearly as embarassed as I was. We kissed lightly, but then when we opened the door nobody believed that we did it so we kissed again. All in all not a great experience.
At this same party I met blondies boyfriend. I have always suffered from unavailable man syndrome, as anyone who knows the circumstances surrounding my courtship and marriage of my husband can tell you. Blondies boyfriend and his friend that was with him were both cowboys. Tight jeans, button down shirts, hats and boots, the whole nine. Goddam those were two friggen hotties. The night of the first kiss there was also a lot of dancing. I am very short and always have been. These boys were spinning me around Blondies hardwood floor like I was a top. I loved it and developed quite a crush on both of these boys. I didn't do anything about it though, because as I said I was painfully shy.
Exactly one year later Blondies party came around again. She had decided to break it off with her cowboy and wrote him a scathing letter to do it. She showed it to me that morning. She gave it to him when he got there. He was disappointed, but stuck around the party anyway. I was again twirled around the dance floor all evening, and when bedtime came everyone else went into Blondies room. I was very naive. I remember I was eating chips and salsa and he sat down and ate some with me and then he wandered around the house in search of chapstick. I had no clue what was about to happen.
We lay down on the L shaped couch with our heads facing each other. It started slowly, his fingers grazed my hand. I got butterflies in my stomach. I thought it might have been an accident. Then I felt it again. This time his fingers were gliding along my hand and up my arm. I get all smiley just remembering the feeling. Sheer joy. He touched my cheek, ever so lightly. tilted my head towards his. And then he kissed me. We kissed for what seemed like hours. Slowly he slid down and we were kissing everywhere (almost, I was new to this after all) Shoulders, arms, breasts, stomach.
When we were really into it at some point they all came out of Blondies room. We quickly pretended to be asleep. I don't think they believed we were asleep though since his head was between my boobs and mine was up against his bare chest. But we listened as they made fun of me. I don't even remember what was said, but I do remember it was not kind. After they went back to her room we continued. He assured me that he thought I was beautiful and nice and that he was having a really good time. Eventually he worked his way back up to my mouth. We fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning, holding hands.
I stopped hanging out with those friends at that point. I realized that they didn't really like me, I was just the fat girl that made them look better in their own eyes. They had no respect for me as a person. Blondies sisters were always nice to me, but I discovered that she was not so nice to me behind my back. I have never spoken to Cowboy again after that. I realize now that he was probably using me to ease his own pain. I am ok with that. It is still one of my best memories, and the first time a guy ever made me feel beautiful and desireable.
Thank you Cowboy for being nice, and thank you Blondie for breaking up with him and giving me one of the best nights of my life.

$300 Vans ROCK!!!!

So as you may or may not have realized by now my weekend is Thursday/Friday. I was not here yesterday, and I'll tell you why. Let me start at the beginning. When my little egg died in Santa Cruz we bought the neighbor's van. He sold it to us for the fantastic price of $300. It ran, but not very well, and it gives me problems, but not very many. Until now.
Friday started out like any other payday. After Husband-man put on his costume I dropped him off at work. I proceeded to pay a bill and then went merrily on my way to pick up my paycheck. Singing along to the radio, blissfully unaware I was about to start the worst weekend ever. As I pulled into the street after paying my bill the van stalled. no big deal, it does this all the time. I hit my hazard lights, pulled off and tried to re-start the van. Nothing. Normally it starts right up. Wait a few minutes, try again. It finally starts, and runs only long enough for me to get up to speed, then it dies again. Thankfully I am right next to a driveway, so I pull in and coast into a spot. Wait 10 minutes or so and then start it again. This time it gets me almost halfway to work. Then it starts sputtering again. By this time I am crying and literally beggin the gods to just let me get to work. No luck. Instead I get some random guy waving at me to pull over.
He comes up to the window, he hasn't shaved in what appears to be several days, he has a beer in a bag, he still has the tag on his ballcap, but other than all that he seems ok. ~smirk~ He walks up to my open window (did I mention that it's over 100° out and I have no air conditioning?) and says to me,
"I can hear it." That all, just that he can hear that my car is on crack. i say to him,
"I know, it should re-start right now, but thanks..." Thinking "Get the hell away from my car" I try it and thankfully it starts right up this time. So then he says to me,
"I was going to help you...Can you give me a ride?"
ummm, thanks but no. Can we say psycho, I knew we could. So I say to him,
"Thanks for trying, but I have a kid at home, I can't afford to let strangers in my car. I hope you understand."
"But I was going to help you, it's hot and I don't want to take the bus"
"Again sir, I'm really sorry, but no I cannot give you a ride."
And I drive away. Not one half block later the damn thing quits again. And it WILL NOT start again. Here comes ballcap guy. I'm on the phone with Daddy-man telling him whats going on and he comes up saying, well at least let me push you out of traffic. Daddy thinks this is a good idea since I am blocking a lane so I agree. Together we push this van into a driveway into the place where they are extending the airport. I call Daddy-man back to let him know I am out of traffic and he says that he is sending a tow-truck since he no longer has a car to come and save me. I give Ball-cap guy 2 bucks for his trouble, here's your bus fare on me, and he runs off to catch his bus. Which he misses. He comes back to me, while I'm still on the phone with Daddy-man he asks,
"Is someone coming to get you?"
"I have a tow-truck coming, thanks though."
"I missed my bus"
"I saw that, I'm really sorry, thank you for helping me."
"Can I get a ride with you?"
"ummmm, It's a tow-truck coming for me so I don't know."
"Can I get a ride with the tow-truck driver?"
"I really don't know"
"Can I wait with you for the tow-truck?"
"I'm not really comfortable with that." (He was creepy you know?) At this point my dad says, let me talk to him.
"Hello sir, who am I? I'm just a guy that was waiting for a bus ans I saw a van in trouble so I told her to pull over, but then she got it re-started, but she wouldn't give me a ride, and I found a lucky penny today, and maybe if she had given me a ride the luck would have worn off to her and she would have made it all the way to whe...
"Why should I leave? I helped push her out of traf...
"But I could be an angel, god is watching over all of us. You never know I could be an angel...
"But I'm not anything else, I don't see why I can't jsut ask the tow-truck driv...
So then I break-in,
"Let me talk to my dad please. Hey daddy, there's a fed-ex across the street, I'm going to go over there and wait for the tow OK."
So I crossed the street to the Fed-ex office, where they were amazingly nice to me. After which ball-cap guy was not seen again. So what if he may have been an ok guy who really was just hot and tired, he creeped me out. My buddy with the tow-truck was not able to come after all so after waiting in the fed-ex break-room for like 90 minutes I went back out and the truck started, finally. I got it to my work and there I decided to wait for my Tapioka and Some Pirate (Who's new haircut looks great, if even a little too gelled back for my taste) to be picked up by B.D.. They followed me home (I love you guys thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!) to make sure I got there safe, even though they had plans for the night and I live all the way across town from me.
After that wonderful day I woke up the next morning extra early so that if I have problems with the van I would still have time to get to work on time. 7:effing:30 am and the van won't start. Just flat ass won't start. So I call my boss, voice mail, call my other boss, voice mail, call my first boss again, still voice mail, call the main office, nobody's there yet. Wait 15 minutes, try the van again, still nothing, make all the phone calls again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Until after 8:30 when my boss calls me back and says,
"You have to come in. I have nobody to cover you"
"Really sorry, but I have no way of getting in"
"I need you to come in, so and so's out of town and I have mobody to cover you." Sooooo not my fault, you have like 6 people who are fully trained to cover my position.
"Again, I have no way of getting in. I'm really sorry, but I just can't"
"Where's your dad, can't he bring you?"
I think to myself (Not that it's any of your business but)"he no longer has a car and is currently on the bus to get home"
"Don't you have any friends that can drive you in?"
"All of my friends with cars are already at work...I'm really REALLY sorry, but I can't come in today, I have no way of getting in there. I will be there tomorrow, but I cannot come in today."
(insert sarcastic tone here) "Thanks Oatmeal, thanks a lot" And she hangs up on me.
Now at about 10:30 Daddy-man gets home and fiddles around with the van for like 15 minutes and says it's not fixed, but should be good to get husband-man to work and cash my paycheck. So like Deja-Vu all over again, husband man gets on his costume and we're off. Again we're fine until after I drop him off. Just as I get to the corner to get into the parking lot to cash my check it dies. Again. Wait through one light cycle and try again. It fires up long enough to get into the driveway and then stalls again. Wait 15 more minutes, start it, and get into a parking space to cash my check.
After cashing said check I once again walk towards the grey van of doom. Dreading even turning the key. Well at least it starts right away. That's something right? Right? Red light, dead van. A teenaged kid waiting for the crosswalk drops his bike, runs over, and says, put it into neutral, I'll push you into that driveway. Ok easy enough. I get out and steer with one hand while helping him push and the van gets going pretty fast, I think to myself how strong this kid must be to be pushing the van that fast.
After the grey van of doom gets into the driveway I see that 2 roadworkers were helping (that explains it). They ask if I have a phone to call for help, and then leave. The way you're supposed to if you help a stranger push their vehicle dammit. Thank you to those men, they, and alice from Fed-Ex are my true angels.
I walk over to the mechanic shop down the road. I say to the mechanic,
"Can you help me, it's vapor locked, I have the tool to fix it, but I don't know how, I'll give you $20 if you could do me this favor"
"Sorry lady, I'm really busy, if you're still there in a few hours I may be able to help."
So eventually I get it started again. Especially since I'm in the driveway of a power station that says no parking tow area. I get it about 2 blocks down the road. Can you guess what happens next? I knew you could. fortuantely this time I can coast onto a side street and park next to a house, so at least I'm legal. I called my house. 5 1/2 hours of sweat and dehydration sitting on the side of the road in a strange neighborhood (thank the gods for the Ice-Cream man!) Daddy-man finally pulls up having had to take a taxi to get there. He bully's the grey van of doom, which is waaaay past babying anymore, home. He is fixing it today, he had to bully it to work for me today too.
So how was your week?

You know what irks the shit out of me?

*Gets out a soapbox and climbs on it. Promptly falls through, because her soap comes in a cardboard box. Grumbles, looks around and finds a milk crate. Climbs on that. Ahhh much better*



When I'm driving down the street on my way to work and some asshole cuts me off, when there's nobody in sight behind me, and then slows down. That's so freaking irritating. And then beyond the fact that they seen to think that the little white sign withthe big black 45 on it is just a suggestion, when I change lanes to get around their 30 mph driving ass they also change lanes. and they can't seem to figure outthe complexities of the little stick on the side of their steering wheel so they don't even put on a blinker. Unless maybe they think they have a that they're inspector gadget. Yeah, maybe that's it, Maybe they're in their car going "Go-Go Gadget Blinker". Eitehr way it didn't work asshole, and now your dumb slow ass has cut me off again. And The thing that irritates me the very most about this situationn? Why, why in the fuck is is ALWAYS some asshole in a Corvette that did it. you spent approximately 2-3 years of my salary on a car that is made to go fast! Drive it fuckhead! Do they think that the wind is going to scratch their pretty silver paint or what? Listen to me asshole, you will not be admired any more for your chice in cars unless you show that you know how to drive it! I know that it is a replacement for the dick that you do not have, nad you like said dick to be handled gently, but this is a car, not a penis. You need to at least pretend to be confident enough to DRIVE THE FUCKING SPEED LIMIT AND GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY!!!!!

Ahem, thank you.



*climbs off of her milk crate, picks up the squished remains of her soapbox and skips away, whistling the theme to the Andy Griffith show.*

Grief ...

Six days after my beautiful boy was born at 12:04 am we got a phone call. I answered the phone with "It's 12:04 am and I have a 6 day old baby." I was tired and cranky, I will always regret that. On the other side of the line I heard my sister in laws voice, "I know what time it is, I need to talk to Cory" I immediately knew that something was wrong and handed the phone to Husband-man..."It's Lessa, something's wrong"
That is how we found out that his brother had passed on. Way up north in Alaska where we couldn't even be there for them. As I knelt on the floor beside him with one hand holding his and the other resting on his knee I saw a look of horror rise onto his face. When he hung up the phone he let loose a roar the likes of which I have never heard, and hope to never hear again.

Almost 10 months later he is still working hard to feel whole again. Likewise his sister has been struggling with trying to surive the pain and grief of it all. She is taking a trip, leaving in 2 days and having a very difficult time. She doesn't want to go she just wants him to be alive again and then everything will be ok.

Sis is one of the strongest people I know. She loves life and travel. She has been everywhere. But the pain of losing her brother is enough to shake her ever present confidence. Husband-man is the same. Every week or so, while we are doing something fun or when his life is really going good he get suddenly sad. When I ask him what it is he says he misses his brother. After such a tragic and unexpected loss it seems that those the very closest have the hardest times. When they are sad they have no one to share the sadness with, when they are happy they want to share that joy with their lost loved one only to be reminded once again that person is not there. I cannot imagine the sorrow going through them. For so long all they had was each other. They still have no other family to speak of. Neither of them is really good at talking to each other, so even when they are feeling badly, Husband-man doesn't want to upset Sis by calling her and I suspect the same is true of her.

I don't know what to do to help them. These are two of the most important people left in my life. I also loved Brother-man and miss him terribly, but I only knew him for a short time, only met him twice, and the pain is gone for me. I am also a beleiver in the Summerlands where we wait for our family and rest between lives only to start again. I wasn't truly convinced of my conviction of belief until it was tested. I was devastated when we first found out, but I had to remain strong for Husband-man. After I had time to reflect I still have remnants of selfish sadness for the man that was lost. And not so selfish sadness for his children who will have to frow up the rest of the way without him. I do, however, think that he is watching over us and waiting to laugh with us before it is time for us to start our next lives together. That makes me feel better, but does nothing to help those that I love deal with their pain. In the end I suppose that we all have to deal with death in our own way, and all I really can do is stand beside them and love them. As I told her, It probably will not get better, but it will get easier.

Notes from the universe

I saw a link in a friends blog and decided to ry it, now every day I get these wonderfule e-mails and they make me feel so good. I thought I'd share one with you.

Hello lovely face.

How are you today?

Gorgeous... yes. I like how your self-confidence has been soaring lately.

Cindy, remember the last time when you blew some little thing
way out of proportion and thought it just might derail your entire life?

Yeah, it still cracks us up too.

Anyhow, just wanted to remind you of your supernatural rebounding
skills.

You will always prevail,
The Universe


Thoughts become things... choose the good ones! ®
© www.tut.com ®

Not on your "worst day," during your lowest ebb, nor through your most
challenging affairs, will that ever, ever happen, XXXXXXXXXXX.


I think this is them nicest thing anyone has said to me lately. It's nice to get a little bit of sunshine into every day. get your own notes from the universe at tut.com I think, just look for notes from the universe.

They really do make my day a little better every time.