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Sorry for the radio silence; a conspiracy of computer problems, internet connection douchebaggery, and chemo grind has sapped my reserves. I have interesting things to talk about (Magic Bees! Black Widow Eggs Sacks! My Cockatiel Named Bird! Mai Birfdayz!) but I just haven’t gotten the vaginal fortitude to write about much. Mostly, I’ve been tired.

For once in my ever-lovin’ life, I had a semi-decent ritual planned out for Samhain. Even had a separate thing plotted out for Baron on Fet Ghede. Now? Now? Now I get chemo in the morning on the 31st. Thank you insurance company for changing your policy at a terrible time. And thank you, too, oncologist’s office, for not bothering to call me to tell me. (I still have black roosters with your name on them. Hint-motherfucking-hint.) So, no cooking unless I feel utterly amazing (hah) and as little movement as I can manage until I feel better (double-hah). The utter kicker? I chose to do it Monday instead of the following Thursday due to work and trying to give people a chance to finish their projects in time. Now the kiln is already loaded because my sometimes-partner in kiln-bitching got ants in his pants about it. (And made sure all his pieces were loaded. Guess who has a demon-Walrus mask sitting on the shelf?) So I get to get up at a ridiculous time next Friday to fire a reduction kiln when I will feel like shit warmed over, gently poached, and stomped on by militant elephants.

I find it interesting that my chemo schedule has been fucked around to the point of chemo on Halloween (as my mother’s friend said, I get to be a zombie for Halloween whether I wanna be or not- Ha ha Baron. Ha ha.) Baron’s been dumping stuff in my lap recently. Books, mostly. Unfortunately some of these books require a fine-mesh screen, nose plugs, and a pressure washer to find the gems in the bullshit. Case in point? A Llewellyn “Voodoo” biography. 200 plus pages, and the best idea that came out of it wasn’t even voo-dooey. (Get a pot or container for an ancestor, feed container, bury container, unbury container once a year to feed ancestor again. I really really like it, especially if one does not have access to the physical graves of the ancestors. But then again, I’m weird enough to want to make a mini-graveyard in my backyard, complete with stone monuments.) The treatise on African religion in the New World is dense but fascinating (if a tad out of date). It doesn’t immediately discount the validity of spirit possession, which I rather enjoy. Not much in the way of Ghede-reference so far, but I still have about half the book to go.

Manannan is quiet right now. A few nudges here and there (very little is as beautiful as the morning mist laying over the land) but nothing near as strong as the Baron. Part of it is the season. Until the rains set in its hard to hear him. The land is dry and the ocean is far away. Part of it (probably most of it) is me. Baron is loud, so I have no choice but to pay attention. Manannan is not so loud, not so new. Its like the Seven Year Itch in people relationships, only bigger. There is a tendency to assume that what was is and always will be. I know better than that 😛

The Lady is still the Lady. The Duat pathworking is tickling in my brain still (I haven’t forgotten, I swear!). But to get the full impact I need to vastly improve my meditation and trancework (which is sadly nonexistent). That is yet another book thrown at me, though, truthfully, I’ve been eyeballing it for years; Diana Paxson’s Trance-Portation. It’s supposed to be super duper good, especially for us poor can’t-meditate-for-shit people.

So, to recap- I’m not dead yet. I shall hopefully return with better news after Halloween (like when chemo treatments will end- I do know that unless the schedule changes I get a treatment the day before Thanksgiving. Their planning sucks.) Life putters along, even for us chemo-zombies.

Happy Halloween y’all.