Molly Goatwax

Neopagan Sabbat

This morning at the sandwich shop by my office I was fixing my tea accompanied by the "lite" FM's station's Holiday mix. As Andy Williams (or is it Johnny Mathis?) crooned "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year" I was reminded, in my curmudgeonly repulsion of both Christmas and Popular Culture, that it's the darkest day of the year. Right about now the earth stills itself on one axis momentarily and then the northern hemisphere starts leaning towards the sun. That's a momentous occassion often lost apon those fixated on their candy canes, conical red hats and the consumer crush. I will find solace in the incremental increases in the sunlight's length and intensity each day until it drives me insane in late June. I am also profoundly grateful not to have "lite" FM holiday music pumped into my work space or be subjected to a cubicle decorating contest as it gets awfully cloying for non Christians to be told to get into the holiday mood when they don't celebrate the same holidays...

Sweet music

Photo lifted from Wakefield Today

This fellow is showing off an organ made from a whiskey barrel and beer bottles that he plays for charity. It serves beer as well as plays music!

Reconnecting

After spending most of the week end wallowing in sadness, regret, dust and cat hair, I picked up a six of Miss Janet's favorite beer and showed up on her doorstep yesterday afternoon. Between mother's illness and packing up and moving the contents of our house, I hadn't seen her for months. I rang her bell and announced the arrival of the Beer Fairy to her intercom. When she let me in and spied her brand, she promoted me to Beer Goddess. (Fairies are soooo 70's, dahlink!) When a person has been through such upheavals as I, they have to be reminded to take care of business; get enough sleep, eat good food and drink plenty of water so's not to dehydrate and see your friends. Especially a friend who gives you a hot water bottle wearing a holiday sweater and a pair of pink toe socks printed with hibiscus flowers and hula girls complete with long black "hair" and coconut shell tops creweled onto each toe. Boobie toes! Ten boobies on each foot! I am a goddess!

More Lillies

I went back to the office today and found that my brain was missing and the space it had taken got filled with cement whilst I was occupied. I had forgotten how to do my job. The people there were very nice and patient with the cognitively impaired person who had shown up in place of the qualified professional they thought they had hired. During my lunch hour I had to take some items to the bar. As I was placing some papers in a cabinet there was a banging at the door. Instead of a disgruntled trash collector I greeted a delivery person who handed me a box of organic calla lillies. Wow. Big Wow. Chris, Steve and Liz love me. I was their supervisor way back when at the art school, and I hope to see them at the kegger we're throwing there next month for the good Dr. Parents. (See today's Baltimore Sun). Gotta track the old guards down...

lillies

The house smells like the Bellagio.

cough...cough

Three days bagging donations of clothes, mobility devices and paperbacks and we have barely begun to scratch the surface. The library of ceramics books has to get shipped to Montana after it gets inventoried and appraised. I don't know whither the anthropology, archaeology and history books are bound, yet. Artwork. Slides. Another library of cook books. Don't even ask how many cabinets and shelves of dishes a ceramic historian has hoarded. Millions and millions and millions of rubber bands.  My younger sister and I keep finding stashes of rotted rubber bands in every room. Dried out pens and all the postcards recieved in the last 20 years. All of this has kicked up a ferocious storm of dust and cat hair that has caused my chest to feel as if iron ninja stars are growing in my lungs. Poor Hubby can be heard hacking a half a block away.  Aha! A gift cerificate for 200 dollars worth of cleaning service has been unearthed! I know...in lieu of flowers, please send dial-a-maid!

For Sam

I read this item in the Police Blotter feature of  The Baltimore Sun this morning;

Northern

Arrest // Authorities arrested a man in Fairfax, Va., and charged him with the first-degree murder of a man in the city's Remington neighborhood in June. Held without bail in the Fairfax jail pending an extradition hearing is Ameer Taylor, 31, of Springfield, Va. Authorities said Taylor is accused of fatally shooting Samuel Richardson, 31, of the 2600 block of Hampden Ave., outside a bar in the 400 block of W. 24th St. on June 2.

I noted the errors; he was not shot there and there is no bar in the 400 block of west 24th, but after I was done discussing taxes, probates and appraisals with Mother's lawyer this morning I went to 26th Street and Miles Avenue to look for the memorial garden that Sammy's sister, Liz, is working on. I found a patch of new laid mulch bordered by bricks which was the only recent purposeful bit of landscaping in evidence. After I picked up some trash and broken glass, put some bricks back into place and laid another row of rocks on the east edge, I opened a bottle of  Foster's, took a few swigs and enriched  the ground in honor of our barkeep cruelly murdered. I wish that I could do more, and will, once I get some direction....

The power of the Sisterhood

A couple of my sisters descended apon me, as I am staying at Mother's house. Today has been a flurry of cooking, cleaning, vacuuming and bagging. That's a good thing. I don't know that I would do much besides wander around in confused circles without them and there is so much to do. Mother grew up in The Great Depression and tended to save any least thing she thought had value or would be useful and always bought a larger house when she moved to store it all. And, it's all covered with cat hair and dust. As executrix, I have the emotionaly challenging tasks and appreciate the help with the practical ones. Those sisters that would be less than helpful did not appear and that is a good thing, too. As for services, there will be a party to celebrate the doctors' distinguished lives and a tree planting in  Chicago in the spring. I hope to see some friends who live in Chicago while I'm out there.

Until we meet again

Photo by Rachel Wise

On Wednesday night, my stepfather, Dr. Mike passed away.  Last night I folded Dr. Mom's arms, closed her eyes and kissed her good-bye too.  And this song, sung by Marlene Dietricht comes to mind;

" Änd when I die, don't spend my money
on candles and a picture in a frame
just see what the boys in the back room will have
and tell them I'm having the same..."

shredded

Have you ever had a day where you felt you got picked up and shaken by the Big Bad Witch?