Off the Top of my Head - but I'm no Poet..

A witch need follow no rede or decree she's unconcerned by what others believe.

She does as she pleases into the night demanding that evil and wrong be put right

She's nobodies toy and she's nobodies fool her fingers a curse and her eyes a blue tool

Fuckawayoff with ye're suspicion and stress a witch has no need of the right day to hex

She does as she pleases and if she says its right then the best foe can hope for is one harmless fright.

Quick Trip

To town to check out the festival, all the roads leading directly to the centre were blocked off, there were stalls, dancers and musicians.  It looked like fun but I didn't have time to explore much this year.  I stole a wee look at the dancers one of my neighbours was involved and I at least had to be able to say I'd seen them.

I do like the feel of these little festivals it kind of confirms the localness of everything,d'ye see I had to go to see a neighbour and that's probably the same for many of the attendees.  Isn't that wonderful.

If I missed anything at all it was the lack of a hot dog stall if there was one I didn't see it and I thought they were obligatory and I like hot dogs, with onions and sauce.

Better anyway than having to endure the cowards attempts to show me what a poor poet I am...

Waning Gibbous

Here is another one I had to bring I know everyone says I can't write poetry and I've no doubt they're right, but poetry isn't about good or bad or I don't think it is, but then I can't write poetry. 

A beautiful sight on a clear, cold night but not one to trust burn she never so bright.
Waning is banishing, run! Go away. Send in disgrace and in hurt disarray. 

But gibbous is other its more and its less.  Its shine is temptation its shape a temptress.
The gibbous moon says try if you dare, be foolish, be young and I’ll meet you there.

Reincarnation ?

    thecatdogblog

 thecatdogblog

I had to bring him here, it wasn't a choice.  I stared and stared and I knew I just had to bring him here.

They say his name is Wicket.   Really?  I would like to know his exact date and time of birth.  

I'm not going to say he's my Bertie reincarnated that would be silly!  But here he stays and I will keep a close watch for more pictures.

D'ye see how those eyes would look on a pitch black night?

She. Again.

Sure I've mentioned it before but since I'm bearing the scratches I thought it worth a reminder other than the physical today.

She is eighteen.  She has taken to expecting to be fed on the softest, jelliest, juiciest pieces of meat and to receive them four or five times a day.  She is a slim cat, there is no understanding it but there is no getting away from it either she is stick thin and proud of it.

I've noticed over the past year or so that she has become more talkative the subject is usually anything she dislikes or that she considers invades her space, which is all of the space or put another way any space she decides is hers, or it could be that she feels she is being urged to make a decision faster than she considers appropriate.

I'm patient but even the neighbours noticed when she was on the roof of the house shrieking at me for a) leaving her locked out and b) taking too long to do the shopping.  The neighbour thought it was funny.  He has no idea how that husky little croak of a voice can get to you, none at all.

The thing that has me exercised today is she as anyone who reads this blog knows sleeps in the crook of my arm whenever I decide to take a nap on the old sofa.  I admit its a bit of a liberty the old sofa being more or less theirs and they being territorial, but its a three seater  and there is plenty of room.

Today I thought I would have a nap.  I'd been typing, I was bored with it and it was raining cats and dogs outside.   I stretched out on the old sofa and she claws carefully extended padded all along my back over my shoulder and down into the crook of my arm and there she paused to look up and stare.

The reason for the delay was Olly.  He is the alpha male in our household.  This is undeniable because he is also the only male.   He gets himself in a bit of a tizzy sometimes when the girls bully him and they bully him all the rime.

This is why he, to show his seniority, climbs onto the back of the sofa and positions himself so that one fore paw rests directly above my head.  He likes this and even manages to look quite regal.   I don't mind it, the paw doesn't actually touch me its a symbolic gesture they are the only ones my poor Olly is allowed.

The one who does object is she in the crook of my arm.   She stares, glares and fidgets.  Her claws extend, her purr becomes a growl and then a hiss and I, stand up, shut the door on the lot of em, did I forget to mention Pippa, Trixie and Jezzie on my legs and feet?  And go to bed for an hour.....

Anyone checking would see all five of them spreadeagled across the sofa she having decided she doesn't mind sharing a space its me she won't share. 

Ursula Cont...

                             whofortedblog.com Source:

Found these somewhere and couldn't resist bringing them here.  Ursula may she be frolicing with a lover somewhere happy, may or may not be a relative of mine.  I suppose I could check but why?   Is it not better to have a fantasy that's a little bit of fun and respect rather than a fact that may be negative and that will include the pain she must have suffered?   I like the connection the way it is.

The images above are said to be of ghosts haunting the witches prison.   I did think ectoplasm had been largely dismissed but the pictures are said to be ectoplasmic outlines of figures gliding aroung the building known as The Cage its a property that was used to imprison those unfortunates accused of witchcraft. Vanessa Mitchell is the current owner of the building and the two images were snapped without manipulation by spirit photographer Ron Bowers in front of a room full of onlookers.

At one time The Cage served as the village prison for all criminals in ST Osyth Essex England but its become better known as the place that held  Ursula Kemp and fourteen other local women who were accused of witchcraft and hung in the 1500s.

Morning She Dawdles

Why, she wondered do we always feel safer in daylight? We’re all the same the night is the fear and there’s a tinge of relief when we see each new day dawn.

But are we right? Does not the night conceal us as it conceals everything? Do we not lurk in the shadows afraid of our own, concealing from others equally afraid of their unknown.

Daylight is appearing though its not yet dawn  I opened my door and there were lighter streaks criss crossing the horizon.  I smiled and wondered why was I smiling? Am I relieved I made it through another night?  Is it safer to open a window now or soon? Will I go back to bed and sleep more soundly knowing a stranger could see a strange path?

Ah but the dawn is approaching, taking her time, d’ye ever notice dawn is always ‘she’? ‘She’ is dawdling her way across the horizon, slowly approaching my door and I feel better as though a friend were nearly here.

The Most Important.

I've come to the conclusion that the most important part of us is not how beautiful we are,  how clever we are, how generous we are or the warmth of our personality.   All of those are important of course but not me thinks the most important.

The most important, I think,  is our ability to laugh, at others yes, but even more importantly at ourselves, that genie in us that laughs out loud regardless.   Laughter disarms anger and washes away pain faster than any apology, tears or soap. 

When you laugh you actually then have to stop and think, to try to remember whatever it was that made you angry.   I love to laugh and I laugh a lot.   It pays dividends in life.

Closer...

Admiral William Brown born in Foxford Co Mayo and who as everyone knows left Ireland with his father when he was aged nine.   He became an admiral in Argentina and is famous and respected there.

Circling.

Cool or Cruel

It could've been kinda cool
A friendly stranger
Away in the distance
A word of guidance
Or warning with a smile

Too bad it wasn't
Nothing like

The casual theft
Of things not meant
Of practice, trial and error
stolen as fact

Nothing left
Nowhere to run

A world of hurt
In a strangers sneer
Multiplied by numbers
Confirmed and suspected

Kind of Loving

There are so many kinds of and reasons for love.  I love coffee ice cream and rum and raisin.  I love banana milk shakes and I love soda bread.  So many loves, too many to list.  I love all dogs and cats and though mine are mine I wouldn't say I love them more or less than those I don’t know.

People too, so many people I care about, all for different reasons all for the same one: they move me, something in them strikes a chord and that’s it.  Its nothing new, artists have for centuries fed off the inspiration provided by a person such a person became known as a muse,

Not sexual although like all human relationships it depended on the artist and his/her muse, sometimes its a deep affection, sometimes respect, and sometimes it must have been sexual which doesn’t mean it was sex.
And perhaps occasionally, rarely it was a kind of hatred.   Fury at something recognised and immediately disliked, perhaps those are the most incendiary non relationships, because this one produces an instant, striking response and such a response whilst rarely physical is always emotional.

Eh, its four in the morning, I’m awake and I can doodle if I want.

And no I'm not flattering myself that I was some kind of muse I already said I don't believe a word of it...

Be well.

Close Enough

I've known people stop to ask this one directions.  Not me but rushing by I have muttered an absent minded "Excuse me"  at least once.    I've never seen statues like these anywhere else either.   I think they're kinda touching.   In lieu of people eh...

De'ye see the skirt is crinkled?

Scary !

Look!
At the woman calling
There on the corner
The one with the lamp
Shining

Step back!
Beware
Its not a cat she wants
Away over there
Glaring

Its a trap!
Run! flee
Find a hole it shouldn't be hard
For a mouse like thee
Hiding

Women and girls they're all the same
At the bone.
With a swish of the tail
They follow you home
 Strut into the night
Hissing

Home from Home

Or not?

I wonder did you see the difference, did you feel it?   To me it always seemed striking. The closest I got to the feel of the north and the look of the UK was Donegal.  The people there would hate that but I used to think it was visible in the look of things.  I should mention Dublin but Dublin has the same feel all big cities have they're kind of international.  Although.....

The time I noticed the difference when I flew into Dublin:   It was almost the end of the rush hour when I arrived.  In the evening light the streets shone with the warm wet of a recent shower.  At the station the last train to Castlebar had left, In a panic I phoned the bus station and was told by a very relaxed voice that the last bus would be leaving Euston in about ten minutes.  I squealed with rage and the voice at the bus station without changing his tone or pausing for thought told me not to worry, if I would go to Euston straight away he would make sure the bus waited for me.

I rushed across and there glittering under the light was  my bus to Mayo waiting, that was when I knew I was in Ireland, can you imagine London?

later...

Definitely.

Close to Home

Just thought I'd put this here. 

Poor Tree

Time to change the subject, well just a bit...

I hate tree felling.  Its a huge industry and its a danger to the well being of the planet and that means us.  There is a skill to felling a tree and it seems this man lacked it or maybe the tree was weakened in a storm but at least the man was safe and hopefully the house was insured.

Source:    http://gifsoup.com/view/2985344/tree-falling-on-house.html

The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood and I
Took the one less travelled by
And that has made all the difference.

So long its been!   I came across this one today after too many years.  How many ways are there to say I have always loved this?  

I'm sorry its so close to a couple of what I hesitate to call  my own poems.   I'm taking refuge in the fact that I still can't read my own stuff...

And yes rather surprisingly and nearing the end I think I can honestly soy I took the path less travelled by.

Blessings may you always find refuge in the words

Hot!

A wonderful couple of days and the gardener came today making it perfect.   I had to go to town this afternoon I met a relative but we didn't stop, for some reason not every bar and restaurant here has air conditioning and it was so hot!

I was worried too that I might miss the gardener Trixie had managed to evade me and I was concerned she would be stuck if the gardener started mowing the lawn before I returned.   I was anxious to make sure the lawn was mowed after two wet weeks some of the nettles were almost knee high.  It looks good now, not perfect I'm not sure it ever could look perfect or that I would like it if it did.

Trixie was fine she rushed inside as soon as I opened the door.   My relative had wanted to meet me later for a drink in a cool climate but I ratted I wanted to spend some quality time in the garden with the dogs and cats and the gardener is back tomorrow to spray stuff so the animals will be trapped inside until he has finished.

A nice, comfortable day I so hope the weather lasts.

She Wants You to Know

She didn't cry, not a bit.  
Sure it may have been a trick of the breeze bruising and stinging wherever it touched

She may have stared and well who wouldn't?  But cry?
No not her.  Sure the sun had been glaring on a silver perishing frost

She may have rubbed her face and why not?
She do think the midges are early this year and see they do get through the tiniest cracks and ice can burn like a boiling pot.

She didn't cry, true she stared why wouldn't she it was such a shock.
Who treats anything like that.   Her gaze may have fled from this one or that,
and the sun and the wind hit her eyes like a slap.

She didn't cry.  And sure they're all dead, there's not one could be rescued not one could be fed.  
Its not  that she cares and its not on her mind, life plays its small tricks and the wind makes you blind.

She didn't cry.  Not even a sigh.  The glare of the night played tricks with the light and  what she wants you to know is that she didn't cry.

Did I mention?

 I shop wherever I see what I want to buy and where there is hardly if any queue.  I cannot abide queues or the brats that scream blue murder while mum chats to some stranger in the bloody queue.

I buy what I want with never so much as a glance at an advert for anything.   Special offers are irrelevant unless its something I was going to buy anyway and there is no bloody queue.

I'll go to the beach but only if there's no one else on it.  I don't mind dogs on the beach I would rather clear their poo than some lazy low life two legged creatures detritus.  I'm nice to strangers I never notice them.

If any of ye were dying of thirst in a desert I'm sure you know I'd watch and patiently wait not for the corpse I'm sure I've no use for the bones of others but for the certainty and the amusement.

Eat shit...

Like!

http://theartofanimation.tumblr.com/post/54777132940/tristan-elwell

 love this.

Four in the Morning

I was comfortable enough, sitting reading, ploughing through some old stuff, commenting occasionally on some new.  At about 4am I  was disturbed by Jezzie who seems to have developed the habit of going at that time every morning which is the main reason people can rely upon me to know when day breaks.   Ollie is no help he only has to get the hint of a chance in the garden and he's off yapping at the door.

I let them both out and stood watching the sun rise over the mountains it was as it always is beautiful, clean and slightly misty.   This time though there was a slight difference,   I was struck by something in the air it was full of a beautiful smell, fresh, kinda flowery, kinda delicate.  I love that smell.

I've never noticed it before, I don't know where it came from or why I noticed it today, all who know me know that I'm usually up at 4am its not unusual for me to open the door and stroll in the garden as I wait for the dogs.  It doesn't really matter where it came from its enough to know it was there and it was beautiful.

Witchcraft

Doesn’t require faith or belief in any gods they are a distraction from the reality of nature based magic, as though nature isn't good enough for some people they have to dress it up in the fiction of ancient writings.

Perhaps the truth is it isn’t Witchcraft they respect its money and fiction pays better.  Buy another apple, dear…

Twilight Frolic

It was when I was about to draw the curtains before letting the dogs out for an evening run.  I looked out of my window  and saw her,  she was skipping, literally skipping along the top of my garden wall.    I had to stop to watch the pleasure she was taking in the twilight, anyway I had to wait I couldn't possibly let the dogs out they would have gone nuts.

The dogs have very specific ideas about what is their territory it includes the fields either side, behind, and across the road from our house.    It definitely includes the road and the old barn which is where this happy and so relaxed lady was headed her long black tail swishing in the breeze.

She is beautiful white with patches of black and that long black tail.   She has babies in the barn and that was where she was headed on this, balmy lazy evening.  She jumped down from the wall,  crossed the road and disappeared into the long grass.

I went out later, a brief stroll before locking up for the night, and as I very quietly passed the barn I just happened to drop some cat food on the ledge.  It was an accident!  Anyone could have done it……

What's in a Name?

There appears to be a little misunderstanding abroad.  It seems some think I may dislike one person more than another or others.  Hmm.  I can't decide if that means someone actually believes, actually thinks there are some I like more than others?

Part of me feels like one of those women who regularly mentally paint the ceilings of every room in the house, know precisely how many roses there are on the bedroom wall, and the exact time a spiders web appears in the crevices, and yet she is assumed by her partner to be happy and contented.

Then again when someone deliberately chooses a name to draw attention to him/herself and acts like some sort of pocket pitbull, that person is inviting attack.

I have come to the conclusion that I was deliberately led to the site and deliberately misled about the sites ownership and management to the extent that I almost volunteered to contribute only some sixth sense held me back.  We are talking about a conspiracy dating back five years, five years of abuse and misuse.  How they laughed.

Now? well they're not laughing are they, and my acting is not only every bit as good as theirs its better, and all whilst maintaining enough warmth and humanity to reach out to one who is sick and give him my assurance that he is safe for the duration of his illness.    If some thought that included a blank cheque for them they were and are wrong.

Passive aggressive? How wrong is it possible to be, well there is wrong and there is catastrophic error.

Toying

With an idea.   I think I may do something with all the posts about the animals perhaps create a new blog, add pictures, or something.   I think I've spent the last while spending too much time stressing about other things, they will come together in due course.

Time maybe to get back to that to reflect upon the quiet, peaceful passage of time in my rural home.  Not that its so quiet anymore as for peaceful?  Huh!   Not the point!  I digress and I mustn't.  I must concentrate and see where I am.

---

I think the reason these attacks get to me so easily is that they're not isolated one offs from some anonymous idiot.   Each one is just the latest in a very long list, an additional strain. 

Ursula

Sometime after I was mugged  I was walking past a jobcentre near my home.  I had never been into a jobcentre, never even stopped to look at a window of one.  This time for no particular reason I did.  I saw an ad, walked in and went straight up to a woman at a desk.  She was not the only one there she was not the only one free to talk.

I explained I had seen an ad in the window, she looked for it and then found another nearby.   She looked at that one, looked at me and said.  "I have an instinct about these things".   She made an appointment for me and that very day off I went to my first ever local job interview.   I had never worked locally before either.

I got the job and the very first day the owners father said to me "Are you going to cast a spell on us?"   I stared at him, what on earth!   He showed me a magazine and in it was an article about a Witch who had been hung in 1582.

That job was the best one I ever had, my life changed.  I kept my home which had been in danger of repossession and moved swiftly onward and upward.  Tax my eldest cat and a book case are all I have left of that job I cherish them both.

When I left I introduced a relative to my job there and the same happened.  

I've never checked if the murdered Witch was an ancestor of mine.  The names the same, the area is where we come from.   Who knows...

Direct Debit Electric

So its been a frustrating kind of a day so far.  It began in a less than auspicious way.  I remembered I hadn't rung the electricity people.  Its about the time of year when I like to do that because although the bitter sting of winter has gone the previous quarter will have seen some cold nights made bearable by the warmth of some radiators so whilst this bill is not the most serious it is perhaps the most underestimated.

Anyway I remembered I hadn't rung them to delay the payment.  I like to extend the period over three months if I can it just makes me feel better d'ye see.   Its my little rebellion and who can afford a big rebellion its the electric!  I rang them and after a wait of no more than about ten minutes I got through to someone and do you know what he said?   HE SAID THEY HAD ALREADY TAKEN MY PAYMENT!   The bastards had put the direct debit through early!

I call that bad form, it feels like robbery.  Alright the money was there but its my money!   Its almost like being robbed.   Obviously I will remember this when next I burn an offering the invoice will be among the cinders scattered to the winds....I feel abused, denied my little yearly rebellion.   I don't wanna hear that its my own fault these tacks on the sole of my skip through life are always my fault.  It doesn't make me feel better to know that.

---

Mind I did see something that made me laugh a lot.  Nothing to do with this post but shades of my youth bigods!  So funny...

The Wordsmith (With apologies to all poets)

He hid in his garret
Working into the night
Afraid of the daylight
Not equipped for the fight

Daylight she came
With a rush of fresh air
Scattering the papers
The wordsmith hid there

Into the air the words flew with a rush
Out of the window in a blistering gush
The sun she beckoned as she danced on the sill
Please join the dance it waits for you still

The wordsmith he looked as his secrets laid bare
And wondered whatever had kept him so occupied there
He opened the door with one shivering bound
And found all he had sought in the heart of the crowd.

Week End

So as I said previously I cancelled the trip I was supposed to take, did the absolute minimum for Solstice and today at about, it must have been lunchtime, I cancelled dinner.  I told myself I would go out later but I changed my mind, again and decided to cook whatever I could find here.

Huh!   I put the kettle on and blew the electric in the kitchen.  Not a problem I have another kettle.   I put it on.   The squeaky clean new kettle worked so I was relatively pleased, relative because todays alternative would have been a glass of wine.  I drank my coffee, decided I would like another walked into the kitchen put the new kettle on again and, blew the electric in the kitchen, again.

Now I have to decide when to call the electrician, tomorrow is winning and in the meantime I'm reduced to boiling water on the stove.  Time for that glass of wine, dinner might be a sandwich, or not.

So that's the solstice gone, two kettles gone, the super moon on its way.   I know I'm stressing but what difference does knowing make? 

Nagging

I'm going out soon but this time I can't just shut down and walk away, there's something that's been bothering me for a while its reflected in some of the posts here.   I'm discovering its not enough to vent a little I want the thing said and done.

There is no way to be sure of where or even when the Craft started, possibly it began when people realised they could help someone who had been injured hunting, and that thought leads inevitably to the thought that someone would have been better at helping than others.  Someone would have noticed a particular berry, leaf or root made people sick, they would also have noticed that others made people who were sick better.

The knowledge would have been valuable it would set the holder apart and above the rest and so, perhaps, the Craft began.   What we know for sure is that it predates Grecian, Roman or any other ideology.   It also bears strong resemblance to what was practiced in every other country.   The Craft predates hieroglyphs and writing wasn't even a gleam in the tribal eye.   All the Gods, and most deities etc are the result of folktales in almost every country.  From cave drawings upward, the existence of Gods and most deities is both unproven and unprovable.

For me the Deities are Earth, Water, Wind and Fire in whichever order you please.   The Goddess is represented by the Moon, God by the Sun.  The power to deal with them is within not without.   If it helps some to call upon a Goddess or God that is up to them the God and Goddess will answer or not regardless of what name they are called.

I dislike intensely the continual spinning a line that I've seen in so many places, what's wrong  could it be the less Gods/Goddesses there are the less saleable Paganism is?

I've seen begging!   And hate is too small a word to describe what I feel...

Piss Off..

So cocky, so cool,

They broke every rule
And laughed aloud
At the thought of the fool
Who though she sympathised
Made it quite clear
They were risking her vengeance
With each careless leer
For the fool by tradition
Is no idiot or clown
But  the  crafty survivor of 
Many a kings frown.
Piss off…

A Thought

Walking in daylight

Hating the feel of it

Wanting the night

The warmth and depth of it

Walking in daylight

Afraid of the glare

Longing for peace

In the hold of the night

The unbending unbreakable strength of it

Walking in daylight

Don't look at the light

Cover your eyes with dark glasses

Wait for the night

The seductive wanton caress of it.

Bitten

I've been.  Me!   By Pippa!   I'm having a hard time getting my head around it.  The wretched cat bit me!   Not a scratch, a bite.  It drew blood!

I was trying to get a knot out of her coat.  She is a longhaired cat, well longish hair, and she hates being groomed so you kind of have to grab your moment.   Regrettably she is also the most feral of my cats, she likes nothing more than to be out and about and can often be found lurking in the barn across the road.  Slut.

She caught my left index finger in her teeth and bit!   I'm still getting over it and if she thinks she's getting any breakfast from me she is in for a shock.......She can dine on the chunk she took out of my finger

Some Days

You just don't feel like it.  Its the Summer Solstice and I'm trying to be all eager and enthusiastic.   I am.....But I'm not up for it, maybe later if I get around to preparing the altar and I might not.   I cancelled a trip and alright I know I was likely going to do that anyway.  I don't like flying,  I don't like leaving the animals and I don't like pretending I'm not worried about them when I do.

Today I feel angry and a strong resentment toward something I know not what, worse I don't care what!   I have a temper that doesn't bother with such trivialities...Who the fuck cares.

The Craft has Growing Pains?

There's no need for such angst is it contrived...Its surely very odd.  What am I saying of course its contrived its also irritating.  Language police now?  Of course they have always been a pedantic, superior gang of gobshites.  

Their attitude is kind of 'who does it hurt'.    Like they don't know?   They're not up to their hairy eyes in their last little error of judgement?   Perhaps they hope it will trend on twitter, how nice for them, but that requires a victim and that would be trying,  that would be very trying particularly if I thought the victim was too young to fully understand the gangs sadism...

The Craft is old it will survive whether someone puts Christian in front of it or not.   The many and growing types will also thrive as people lose faith in what are now traditional religions and either turn to the old ways or create a new variation of them.  What's there to get heated about.  Its a good thing surely?

My own belief is in one God and one Goddess but as surely everyone knows the Gods may manifest themselves in any way or form they choose, their power comes from us...  Nothing to do with Wicca I believe in God and the Goddess. regardless if what anyone else believes...

There are now so many different kinds of Witches:  Hedge Witch, Kitchen Witch, Traditional Witch, Village Witch and however many more.   I like to think I'm a bit of all of them, definitely kitchen I might as well put my altar in the kitchen and have done with it.   I suspect someone well known for his genius may have thought I was lying when I said my altar is a wooden table...Need I say its possible to have more than one table...Surely those who think they know me know I would be unlikely to show my altar to those I distrust.

It seems to me a very youthful way of looking at the Craft a kind of attempt to categorise and specialise it.  I'm not sure about that I think as a Witch grows in experience s/he will do and use whatever feels necessary and will not be held back by any particular branch, may not even notice the diversion.   I am however positive that fancy grimoires, however lovingly, painstakingly and even artistically written, don't make a witch.   Arguably its the opposite makes the Witch...

DNA

So the good news is that the US Supreme Court threw out the demand by some pharmaceutical company or other, they're all the same after all, to patent human DNA.   The bad news is, there is always some, that this does not seem to have attracted the wide media attention I think it deserves.

It would have been interesting if the US had allowed the patent I wonder if the rest of the world would have said 'fuck off' or the equivalent in diplomatic terms, but you know I doubt it.  The world would have hummed and harred and done nothing to prevent such an appalling and incredible act.

I also wonder if the judgement means there will now be less research and that does worry me.

Forget me Nots

It began as a reaction to a wee mistake with buttercups.  I encouraged a few, really barely a handful, to grow and they did, they are everywhere, and very pretty too.Behind the trees along the boundary they are waist high and I love them.  I do.

I just don't want the same little accident to happen again.   This time I went out to find the pink thingies I don't know the name, when I get around to it I will look it up, but its not important I like them anyway.   I don't want them all over everywhere however so this time I found a nice healthy looking plant and put it in a flowerpot, nothing fancy an ordinary pot that anyone might have in the shed.   The attempt to plant something in the old toilet brush holder did not work well.....

So far so good, and I have now turned my attention to Forget Me Nots.  I love them, who would not love a tiny flower with such a wonderful name.   I have put it into another pot and it too is doing well.   I'm looking forward to their proliferation.

Sunday

Been having fun with music and poetry, and trying not to be furious with myself for forgetting the potatoes.  Not over or under cooked you understand, not cooked at all because eejit here forgot to buy them.  I've got two, two whole potatoes and I'm cooking for me so two whole potatoes is not bad.   Its about what I eat, but the thing is do ye see that I can't cook for one.

I'm not used to it nor are the dogs who are used to having everything I don't eat.  Usually, well often, I go out on Sunday afternoon, early evening or whatever time and I have lunch/dinner out.  I may do that today but I know I won't enjoy it.  I will only be doing it because I forgot the potatoes and that is not a good enough reason.

Blessings if you pass this way may you never forget the vegetables.

Street Cred

She's good...

Source:    http://iruntheinternet.com/04060

There's a Queue

Its the little things they don’t tell you.   So you have an elderly cat and she doesn't always, hardly ever, want to go out, obviously you invest in a litter tray and place it in an inconspicuous part of the bathroom so far so good.

Hmm, then you have a couple of rainy days and its colder and the other two cats, did I mention I have three?  Hmm, decide they are fair weather cats and you end up sharing the bathroom with three (3!) cats and 3 litter trays and you can hardly get in the fucking door.

I Capricorn with Help from Aquarius Hmm

cronetalk

I reblogged because I love this and I've brought it here for the same reason although some might call it ‘spinning a line’ or even ‘hustling’.  I don't give a fuck let those who live in glass houses be very careful where they throw their pebbles.

The thing and its educational is that we don't change.  We age, mature of course but the core that which makes us ‘us’ remains.

CAPRICORN - The Passionate Lover (December 22 to January 19)
Love to bust. Nice. Sassy. Intelligent. Sexy. Grouchy at times and annoying to some. Lazy and love to take it easy, but when they find a job or something they like to do they put their all into it. Proud, understanding and sweet. Irresistible. Loves being in long relationships. Great talker. Always gets what he or she wants. Cool. Loves to win against other signs in sports, especially Gemini’s. Likes to cook but would rather go out
To eat at good restaurants. Extremely fun. Loves to joke. Smart. 24 years of bad luck if you do not forward.

It occurs to me, I'm quick, that some might think I believe this is a flattering representation of my personality.   Ahem!   Hardly but no horoscope of mine would be entirely Capricorn anyway there would be considerable input from Aquarius:

AQUARIUS - Does It in the Water (January 20 to February 18)
Trustworthy. Attractive. Great kisser. One of a kind. Loves being in long-term relationships. Tries hard. Will take on any project. Proud of themselves in whatever they do. Messy and unorganized. Procrastinators. Great lovers, when they’re not sleeping. Extreme thinkers. Loves their pets usually more than their family. Can be VERY irritating to others when they try to explain or tell a story. Unpredictable. Will exceed your expectations. Not a fighter, but will knock your lights out. 2 years of bad luck if you do not forward.

What you do is you take the best most attractive elements from both signs and call them me

Stress

I have a thing with keys.  I couldn't find the key it wasn't where it should be which was a) in the lock or b) in the egg bowl.   I looked at the lock I looked at the egg bowl, several times.  I moved every egg out and put every damn egg back.   It wasn't there.  Now I do know that I have had a slight problem with keys before but this time the problem was both less and more.  I was in the house I wanted to go out, nay, I had to go out.  I had opened the door from the kitchen into the garden it being a lovely day why not?   Why not indeed.  Now I wanted to lock the door and I couldn't find the damn key.

I prowled around the house looking for where I might have put the key if I had, somehow, forgotten to put it down when I opened the door.  You know instead of putting it in the egg bowl I carried it into whichever room I went into next and for eg. absentmindedly dropped it down the toilet and flushed it  away into the nightmare septic tank that lives at the back of the garden kind of opposite the ring forte no wonder the fae get pissed off.

Its nothing to do with me the septic tank has been there for decades and the ring forte for a thousand years or so and anyway its not like there isn't a hundred foot or more between them.

Aaanyoldhow I got bored with running aimlessly from room to room I went back into the kitchen calling upon every deity I could think of including st Anthony to help me find the blessed key.  And there it was in the egg bowl.  Trueforye.

Kind of. Like. Funny

Its kind of funny
Its written down
Hard
All about cats
Scary cats
So scary
Like she never saw a dog
Sometimes it feels
Hard

Like beyond fury
Beyond pain
Cos she’s not the victim
No not her
She’s the villain
All shrew and rage
Hard.

Its kind of funny
A rage of age
A cry for youth
Pain
So laugh
You broke so much of  her
Its kind of funny

Stiletto

I was reminded of an incident way back when I was very young, couldn't have been more than about fourteen.  Average I think would probably describe me then, very shy, slightly taller maybe, curlier hair, slim figure  but average.  One thing might have made me a bit different I had a temper I still do.

I can't remember how it happened one moment I'd swear we were walking the next I had my shoe in my hand and I smacked him on the head with the stiletto heel.  I cut his head I remember that.  Nasty little creep his name was Jimmy I remember that too.

I also remember his mother turned up to complain to my mother, can you believe that!  But she did, luckily and unusually, in those days parents always sided with each other,  this time my  mum wasn't interested.   I was barely a teenager she'd prefer it if I never went out but if I did I had strict instructions not to let a male get anywhere near me.

She gave Jimmys mum very short shrift but as soon as they'd gone she had a right go at me and I was stuck in doors for days.

Funny how things slip your mind only to spring right back as though let off a leash.  The days of my youth -  A true story.

Formula

I love to read.  I generally read whatever comes my way whatever the subject or author but for some time I've been concerned or maybe afraid is the right word I think the days of really great writers and storytellers may be gone for good.

Some authors have always written to a formula obviously there is a huge market for that and that's the problem there is so much money in writing to formula and of course everyone wants to write a successful book and once they write one to keep on doing it, that it looks to me as though originality is being lost as new writers strive to be 'like' A or B.

Are we so lazy we no longer look for new ideas?  New ways of saying something and I say that as someone who has found to her cost that experimentation  can get you exactly the wrong kind of attention and that without much of an audience.

Its said that there are about six original story lines and from those six all fiction evolves, maybe, but I think that its only relatively recently that we have become stuck in the groove of writing in a style that is very much the same as every other writer.

I don't know if this makes sense I do firmly believe that the best book ever written ended up in the bin because publishers wouldn't take a chance and I think that has become the same for all of us: authors write to formula and almost all of us read to formula.   I can't decide which is worse.

Note to Self

If its not in your own interest to try to interpret gibberish - don’t try…

Woody the Dog Caught!

woodythedog:

Stuck. Help.

===

Olly was stuck between the bed and the window he had somehow managed to move the bed and this is exactly what he looked like but one forepaw was also stuck.

He cried

Woody looks so much like Olly and his problem was so similar to my boys (see below) that obviously I had to say something! I should also have said that my poor Olly had no more than the size of his body between the bed, him and the wall...Poor baby.....

Burgers

I've been thinking about them for a while. It seems like quite a long while. I know I can get them in town and I know I could go to Castlebar to get some. I don't trust the beef. No getting away from it I don't trust the beef, but I wanted one so I did.

It didn't take too many days before I began thinking of making my own to be sure I hadn't made them for a couple of years but its like falling off a log anyone can do it. The big benefit of making your own is you can stand in the nice local butchers and watch him cut the steak into mince. I liked the idea so that's what I did. Here is the menu for Jamie Oliver Beef burgers I have to say they tasted very nice. I've frozen some for another day.

I had salad and white wine, not red. I wanted chilled and summery.

Original recipe from Jamie Oliver: 30 minute meals

Ingredients:

250g beef mince
½ small red onion
2 med egg
25g breadcrumbs
¼ tsp chilli pwder
¼ tsp ground cumin ½ tsp Dijon mustard
½ tsp dried oregano
25g parmesan cheese
Olive oil
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Method:
1. If barbequing, make sure the barbeque is nice and hot before cooking

2. Peel the onion, slice off a few rings to go in the buns then blitz the rest until finely chopped. Leave the onion in the processor / tip into a large mixing bowl if doing by hand.

3. Separate the egg and add the yolk to the the onion along with the chilli, powder, cumin, oregano, breadcrumbs and mustard.

4. Finely grate the parmesan into the mixture and mix

5. Tip mixture into a separate bowl, add the mince and season well.

6. Time to get your hands dirty! Mix the mixture with your hands until properly combined

7. Divide mince into even sized balls (whichever size you like) and pat into burger shapes. Place on a clean oiled tray, cover with clingfilm and leave in fridge for 5 minutes to firm

8. Meanwhile turn your griddle pan on to a high heat. Drizzle burgers with a little olive oil, season then add to the griddle pan or barbeque and cook for about 10 minutes – more if you like them well done (ruined) or less if you prefer them rare (the best way!)

9. Serve in a bun with whichever burger condiments you choose. Personally I think these burgers taste so good and are so juicy you don’t need lots of extras in the bun, just a bit of onion and some relish if you must!