Saturday, December 28, 2013

Memoir: Last Full Day @ The Farm

Memoir:  Saturday, August 8, 1987

Final impressions...

Looking out across the big back yard to the fields and creek beyond.  All of it shrouded in a surrealistic light beneath a cover of pewter gray clouds, fog snaking its way along the creek banks, hugging the trees.

To the west-- large groves of trees surrounded by gray mist.

Sitting on the front porch, on the cool pavement, squatting between a plush lilac bush and an overgrown evergreen tree:  rain drops hanging precariously from the needles of the evergreen tree.  Suspended and still.  Not falling.  Mot moving.  The big white barn-- hollow, still, quiet, empty.  The stalls-- no sounds of horses moving around, restless.  No sounds of them feeding on grain, or the clomp of their hooves on the pavement as they're led in and out on the cement paddock.  The barn seems enormous empty.

The house looks funny, too, with almost everything out.  A kind of barren shell.  No longer really home.  I'm glad my last day here is gray and cool and misty.  My favorite kind of day.

I look to the south, out to the big open pasture and half expect to see the quiet forms of horses, grazing.  There is nothing but empty green expanse.



Friday, December 20, 2013

Technology is Not My Friend

The Witch's Diary, a diary in general, and I guess this means keeping tabs of goings on, whether they're cheerful or sometimes not.  On this day, I was rudely awakened to the fact that a Sony video camera I had spent good money on was not compatible with my new laptop computer and Windows 8.  I've since been working with it, but I'm not sure I have all the kinks worked out.  I'll let you know.

This is Amythyst, when she's upset :) ...


Tuesday, December 3, 2013

"Let's Keep the 'Christ' in Christmas"....Ummmm, Whatever

The other day, while looking for a friend here on Facebook, an old acquaintance unexpectedly popped up-- same last name, different family.  I was delighted!  I hadn't seen this person in forever; we had lived beside her parents for *Years*.  My kids considered her mother 'Grandma' at one time.  Anyway, remembering the pleasant conversations we had whenever this woman was visiting her parents, I left her one of those "Hi, long time no see, how are the folks" messages, along with a friend request (just for shits and giggles).  I went back today to discover that this woman must have blocked me out and privacied up her Facebook page, all except for one post:  "Let's keep the 'Christ' in Christmas, if you agree, repost."

Wow. I'm so amazed at the narrow-mindedness of the mid-west in the first place; how absolutely scared shitless they seem to be of anything that is not an immediate part of their world, anything outside the box, anything that is a new concept, or anything that is just plain 'different' than what they're use to.  They are all *Pussies*, sez I.
 
Come on, you mid-western people, grow some balls, learn some manners, discover tolerance, and start practicing some of those supposedly wonderful attributes that your Christ taught you.
 
PS...and here is where I transgress:  To my few Christian friends who realize that one's spiritual path is a personal choice, to my few Christian friends who show an amazing willingness to accept others without trying to change them, to my few Christian friends who have actually absorbed and fully embrace the Buddha-like teachings of their Christ-- go find this woman and throttle her for me, will ya'?
 

Monday, December 2, 2013

Baubles-- Only Play with Your Own

I received a call from a dear friend this afternoon, a writer.  She was all upset and flustered.  It seems that she missed a magazine deadline that contained a merchandise review-- she had been undergoing unexpected major surgery at the time of the deadline.  Anyway, the vendor in question was naturally ticked off, expecting to find her precious baubles featured in this brand spankin' new e-magazine, in the second only ever edition.  I can understand Miss Vendor's angst...up to a point.  But the writer had one of the best reasons I can think of for missing a deadline.  I know that I wouldn't write well under anesthesia.

So, let's solve the problem...the writer told Miss Vendor that she had the reviews ready to go, and that she had contacted another publisher-- not just *Any* publisher, mind you, but the publisher of a very successful well-known and popular Pagan magazine.  Now Miss Vendor's baubles would be seen by a lot more people in a more prestigious publication, one that you can actually buy in a bookstore, not just download on your computer.

Was Miss Vendor thrilled?

No.

Miss Vendor was more pissed off than ever.  She threatened to sue the writer, and she told the writer to throw the pretty baubles away and to never, ever, *ever* come play in her sandbox again.  She also decided to spread her seething and prickly fever to everyone she could get her hands on who was connected with the writer, including the editor of the e-magazine and the editor of the other "I-am-more-prestigious-and-important-publication".

Is there a moral to this story?

Yes.

"Don't play with other women's baubles...Ever!!