I'm Not a Wiccan

Call Me Grumpy Pants If You Want...

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Wed, 12 Oct 2011 06:17:00 +0000

I’ve intended to blog more lately, but silence has kind of… Well, happened. As has life.

1. Pregnancy continues with little real problems. We hit 18 weeks, and next Monday we have another ultrasound and hopefully find out the sex of the baby. I should probably plan to blog more on this subject. Basically, though, my romanticized ideas of a spiritually-centered wonderful happy time pregnancy has actually been a time filled with fatigue (Really? Still?), aversions to 99% of vegetables, feeling incredibly tiny in a giant world, wondering when I’m going to actually start to feel excited about a baby instead of swinging between downright terrified and numb, reminding myself that I want children, and listening to every woman I encounter (no matter how little I know them) inform me that I’m insane for wanting a natural childbirth (along with a healthy dose of the opposite side of the camp basically saying I will never bond with my child among other horrible things should I NOT manage to get through the entire experience sans medical intervention). Funny thing is that I never actually say that I want to try for a natural childbirth. They just volunteer this information on their own.

Also, I’m apparently less of a woman if I don’t feel completely comfortable with the thought of breastfeeding at this point as a first-time-mother, and to make things better I have no self-esteem because I cover my hair and would never feel comfortable not having a cover for my breasts when publicly feeding my child. Seriously, ladies… Can we lay off the judgmental negativity on blogs and more importantly in real life? While I admit that I may not have the greatest self-esteem, my religious practices of dressing (semi)modestly and levels of comfort in letting body parts I consider sacred be on full display for anyone walking by to see has nothing to do with lacking in a concept of self-worth and confidence. In fact, it has everything to do with the fact that I have a personal concept of it – Just like you do. It’s just we see things differently. And yes, I belly dance. And yes, I think the female body is one of the most beautiful things the Gods created. But just like a mystery cult or what happens in the Temple of Vesta, I don’t particularly want the uninitiated knowing what’s going on, if you know what I’m saying. Think of me as a prude, but please shut up with the public judgment. If that’s what self-esteem looks like, I don’t want it.

2. I have a month-and-a-half to come up with a business plan for the classes that I’m taking. I have spent the last 4 months having no clue what I’m doing. I have few assets. I have no start-up capital. And it will be more than a year until I can even start working on said plan. Oh, and it’s for farming and I have no land… The plan was to work internships (typically unpaid and living on-farm) for a couple years, but the baby on the way has sort of thrown a wrench in that plan. I’m not really upset, because the reason for having to re-plan is a happy one. However, I found out I was pregnant a week before this program started, so I’ve not had time to regroup… Never mind how hard it is finding land to lease. Especially when you want to start urban and small.

3. We are looking to buy a house. We can no longer stand living where we do due to our neighbors constantly playing music too loudly and our property manager and police apparently not being able to (or are they just unwilling?) to help us with it. We’ve exhausted every option short of a lawsuit, and I’m just too tired to deal with that unless it’s a matter of getting out of our lease. We want to buy so we can do what we want on our property and not have to rely on others not fixing things when we could do it ourselves. (Hello leaky faucet I can't seem to get anyone to fix but could easily do myself...)

Considering the rate this is going, we’ll be moving this next summer… And I’m seriously starting to wonder if with everything else happening (house and baby?) if we’ll be able to afford the small wedding we were planning on. I am so miserable in this duplex that I’m torn as to how I feel about it, and now I’m having to fight off the suggestion (from my fiancé of all people) to just go to the courthouse and get it done. I’m getting promised a big party when we can afford it, but I know how this goes… The party never happens. Never mind that the party isn’t the only part of a wedding to me… The, you know, ceremony part is the big deal.

So yes, gentle readers, I am stressed and unhappy at this point. And, despite my tendency to rant, I don’t feel right putting my negativity out publicly to the world day in and day out. I’m personally a little baffled as to how things can actually be going so well (these are happy situations for the most part!) and I can be simultaneously happy and unhappy or excited and unenthused. Is it pregnancy? Is it bipolar disorder? Can I write it off as being a Libra? Who the hell knows.

What I can tell you is that I’m more than willing to just keep trudging on to see where all of these things take me in the upcoming year. And I promise to let you know what our ultrasound reveals about the baby we have taken to calling Pony, because early on when asked whether we wanted a boy or girl we just replied with, “We really hope it’s a pony.”

Evidence of What I Did to Celebrate Summer Solstice... Cough

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Mon, 22 Aug 2011 05:11:00 +0000

Baby Not a Wiccan, 11 Weeks

Note to Facebook friends: This is a secret you’re getting clued into about a month early! I’m waiting a few more weeks to blab to the general world about this news, but I’m going to explode if I don’t actually write about it now. So please, if you’d kindly not mention it and bask in the glory of the smug satisfaction of knowing something most people don’t, I’d appreciate it. Grazie.

After almost a month of having no energy at all and doing very little housework, a week of my chest feeling like Wee Folk had been kicking me in my sleep, and a vast array of general weirdness I chalked up to my first hardcore fibro flare-up in half a year, I was cooking green beans one night and nearly threw up on the stove. The next day the nausea kicked in full blast after a nap, just about the time I needed to cook dinner again. It was at that point that I decided to immediately go out and get a pregnancy test, gingerale, and soda crackers, sparing the fiancé the fact that I was getting a pregnancy test.

When the test’s confirmation line turned before the control line, I thought to myself Shit, this thing is broken. Then a second or two later, I realized that the stick was telling me that I was, in fact, pregnant.

It wasn’t denial, and I wasn’t completely clueless as to what was going on. The cravings kicking in almost immediately gave me pause. Just a few days before I took the test, I was joking with my mother about all of the problems I was having and that maybe I was pregnant. We’d been cleaning a house that day, and a cowbird spent the entire five hours I was there flying from window to window following my movement and pecking on the glass; when I got home to research into what cowbirds mean, part of it was about neglecting children… Neglecting? Not exactly. Or, well, okay, neglecting the signs and lacking the bravery to confirm things. The thing is that I was trying not to set myself up for disappointment.

There came a point sometime last year where every time my period started, I felt a stab of disappointment. We weren’t trying to conceive, but we weren’t trying to prevent it either. I was getting tired of hoping only to turn around and start the cycle of let-down a few weeks later. So I guess when combined with my cycle being off whack from a car accident in February, I just managed to convince myself that I was being neurotic. I was used to being late. I was used to heinous PMS. And I was used to experiencing something I can liken to opening every single present under the Christmas tree only to find the one thing you really, really wanted and asked for repeatedly wasn’t there as a child.

So on July 16th, I took a pregnancy test. I’ve taken a lot of them in my life (irregularity plus general neurosis = I should have bought stock in pregnancy tests), but this was the first time I had a positive result. I was over-the-moon for a few days before I got really, really sick from it all. The week after that found me in St Louis taking agri-business classes and traipsing around farms in the area in the middle of a heatwave. Then upon returning home, I just continued to sleep all day and night, finding when I was sleeping I was sick to my stomach constantly. I’ve yet to throw up, but you spend 4 weeks constantly nauseated, eventually you find yourself kind of wishing you just would.

On top of being sick, I’ve constantly worried that something was going to happen. The most amusing part of this is that I’m slowly starting to feel better, and I find myself even more worried… My symptoms are going away!!! What does that mean?! The rational side of my brain obviously tells me that my body is finally adjusting to massive hormones. However, I come from a family filled with difficult pregnancies and heartbreaking endings in regard to them, so I have almost an inherited fear of something happening that I’m trying my best to work through. This is a new level to the battle for mindfulness and self-awareness that I’m swinging through. Observing these thoughts and feelings then letting them move on has not been easy. I keep practicing. It’s all I can do.

This pregnancy, despite me feeling like crap, is going great. Today, as I said, I hit 11 weeks. My doctor was incredibly excited to pick up the heartbeat on Doppler (170bpm) at 10 weeks through my chub (though she didn’t say the chub part… That’s me. Ha!). The dating ultrasound the next day revealed a kicking, hiccupping miracle living inside me.

And this is a miracle, as far as I’m concerned, or a very large blessing from the gods… Or both.

Meet Opal!

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Fri, 15 Jul 2011 11:49:00 +0000

The car ride to her new home.

Yesterday after waiting patiently for quite some time, we introduced a new member to our family. This is Opal, who is already turning into a mama's girl.

She is nothing short of fearless (except for big dogs, which we have none of). And her meow is so quiet sometimes it's almost silent. She is also constantly purring.

I'm sure Opal's antics and adventures will be documented here in full as she grows up. For now she simply wanted to say hi to you. We have to go play and take a nap now.

And the Winner Is...

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Thu, 14 Jul 2011 00:31:00 +0000

Today was the last day of my giveaway, and I let folks know on my Facebook page that I'd be random.orging a number for the winner tonight after dinner. Amusingly, I drew my favorite number and one that shows up regularly in my life - 11...

So the winner is...

Danni of The Whimsical Cottage! If you haven't checked out her blog, I'd suggest it. She's a highly creative lady, and I've enjoyed her blog for quite some time now. She also has an Etsy shop, which is on vacation right now, but very much worth checking out when it's up!

Congrats again, Danni!

Musings on Our Relationship with Food

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 06:54:00 +0000

Note: This is oddly not what I set out to write tonight when I started writing, but apparently it's been bouncing around in my mind without me really noticing it. This is, as always, just my personal take on things. If you find truth in it, that's great. If you think I'm a raving loon... Well, the world fortunately has a place for all kinds of people and beliefs. ;)

The plants in my garden are starting to develop actual vegetables. This is, as far as I’m concerned despite having confidence in my abilities, nothing short of a miracle. Plants as a whole are magical, miraculous, living beings that I am constantly left in awe of even with understanding some the science behind them. This growing season, they have taught me a great deal including helping me develop my patience, refusing to grow faster simply because I make impatient demands on them. They’ve given me quite a few lessons in worry, resiliency, and the insect world. And they’ve taken my hand and led me to understand that I can, in fact, tolerate being out in the heat if need be. I am not a delicate flower… And in truth, I’m no longer sure there is such a thing as a delicate flower in the plant world.

Oddly enough, my gardening has also affirmed that for me, personally, I’ve made the right moral choice for myself in not being a vegetarian. I only purchase local, small farm meat, and most of the people I buy it from are pretty vocal about treating their animals with respect. It might be skewed thinking from a girl that’s emotionally tied with plants, but I’m pretty sure that livestock owners on small farms treat their animals with more reverence than many do produce. They’re plants. They don’t have feelings… It’s hard for me to shake the feeling that they are sentient beings, which to me says they have to have some concept of feeling though perhaps not exactly like ours (this debate wages on in my household due to Mr Science sometimes thinking I’ve absolutely lost my mind). I find it oddly cruel that plants work so hard to grow and reproduce… And it’s so easy for us to come along and eat all that hard work.

So many of us hold thanks and compassion for the animals we eat (as we should), but we overlook the silent plant who seems so foreign and different from us. It’s easier to recognize the pain and suffering of animals… Not so much with plants unless you’ve spent time with them. The truth is that in order to sustain our lives as humans, we must eat. And eating in all forms comes from death… Eating a tomato will not kill a plant, but it kills the potential for those specific seeds in the fruit to carry on its genetic lineage. Eventually we rip the plant from the ground once its time and dispose of it some way, and since so many of us don’t practice seed saving from non-hybrids, the genetic diversity offered by the plant we grew is gone.

And don’t get me started on pest control… That’s a whole different topic that’s currently giving me nightmares. Actual nightmares. Involving squash bugs.

This is possibly the biggest lesson my plants have taught me this season… My existence is fueled by death in all its forms. I’m trying to really dig deep into this thought and learn the difference between needless killing and necessary – Which sometimes is not as clear of a line as we typically think. My garden is not fully necessary in order for me to survive. I have grocery stores and farmer’s markets that I can depend on. But at the same time I’m not about to let the bugs have full reign of the plants I take care of… For the most part the plants are helpless to their attack. In some cases it appears I am helpless, too.

I find veganism admirable. I was a vegan for a while. But I have a hard time placing a hierarchy of importance on the food I eat and finding where to draw the line on what is okay and what isn’t. To me a plant is no less sacred, wonderful, and worthy of my compassion than a cow. In farming with plants, bugs die or your crops die, and if your crops die, nobody eats. When harvesting (especially in row crops), animals die accidental deaths. And in regard to honey bees, the local apiarist is our ally in making sure our bee population stays healthy and strong as the mystery of Colony Collapse Disorder continues on. (I’m not talking the traveling hives or mega-farm beekeepers, but the local, small scale folks once again.) It’s important, because we need the bees. And, at the moment, the bees need us.

I understand the abhorrence in the exploitation of animals. Honestly, I’m pretty horrified by the reality of our modern food system myself, which in part is why I’m going into agricultural work. But this summer, working out in my garden and considering my future, I’ve learned something… Life is exploitative. In order to survive, all animals must exploit another living thing. As a Pagan, my understanding of the world is that the world is a living being from the dirt to the sky to the plants and animals. Everything. It’s an ecosystem, and that ecosystem is its own being. The plants take from the dirt. The herbivores take from the plants. And so on and so forth…

To fully remove ourselves from exploitation in its simplest terms would force us to die. The problem isn’t our survival. The problem is a lack of reverence in the harsh reality of life. I admire vegans and vegetarians both for seeking to lessen their blow to the world around them. But I feel like the answer to the problem of where we stand in the world as a post-industrial society that has removed itself from agrarianism isn’t to practice harsh asceticism. The carbon footprint of a vegan is a small drop in the bucket to that of a typical omnivore, but I think looking at mass-produced, pre-made substitutes for things such as meat or dairy products are made in a petroleum-based world that is just as exploitive of the world around us as eating animal products is probably just as bad and more overlooked.

I believe in moderation in all things as a virtue. If one swings to one extreme or another, it can have disastrous results on countless levels. The answer, then, is not to deny or glut yourself with things. The answer is, instead, to practice mindful moderation. Do not close your eyes. Do not ignore the fact that your survival requires other beings to die, which is partially how we’ve gotten into the mess we have today. Instead realize that your life requires the sacrifice of other living things to survive. In all forms from plant to animal, those beings likely did not really want to die.

It is absolutely necessary that we as a people come to understand this. Our attempt to ignore our uncomfortable feelings about this fact has caused us to become more and more removed from our food, which has turned into poisoning ourselves and everything else in the world. The answer is not to ignore the situation. The answer is to hold and understand this fact of life as sacred and to be thankful.

Your understanding and personal relationship with food and survival may lead you down the road to abstaining from certain things, and I think that’s fine. My fiancé, for instance, is a vegetarian who grew up on a livestock farm. He understand the truth of how things are on family farms, and how animals are treated in that situation is not why he’s a vegetarian. Our agreement is that if I bring meat into the house, it’s locally-raised from a small farm that practices compassion and sustainability.

This is because we both accept that, on our own terms, we are closer to the source of our food in this manner. The system isn’t perfect, of course, but to me there can’t be perfection because survival leads to suffering and/or death of other things.

The closer you are to your food, though, the more respectful of it you become… Thanking the sacrifice another living being makes is what is necessary. Understanding that we humans are animals, despite attempting to remove ourselves from that realm, is imperative to restoring the balance of things. Accepting that we are animals is part of a spiritual journey, and we should hold this task as sacred.

Doing Hard Time for Vegetable Gardening?

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Sat, 09 Jul 2011 18:38:00 +0000

I am thankful that I live in the city I do. Our city’s approach to urban agriculture, homesteading, and gardening is huge. In fact, it’s all too common to see someone growing vegetables in their front yard. We allow urban chickens, and I do believe you can probably have goats. We have food preservation classes that are affordable. And for a while the city even gave away free rain barrels for those who wanted and could use them. Personally, I find it inspiring.

So it blows my mind that in Oak Park, Michigan, a mother of 6 is facing the threat of 93 days in jail for doing exactly what it is so many of us do in this town: Raised bed gardening in her family’s front yard…

(Obviously the city planner didn't actually look up suitable in the dictionary, because of the few I cited, I couldn't find common used in any of the definitions. What dictionary is he speaking of exactly? Unless he's going by the obsolete usage of similar or matching... Still not common. Word of advice? Don't talk to the press and cite something before looking it up... Sort of like don't quote a religious text unless you've read it and made sure the quote is actually in there.)

The urban homesteading community along with gardeners on the internet are up in arms. And you know what? They should be! If a woman wants to grow organic vegetables for her family (especially her large family!) in her front yard instead of grass, I personally don’t think it should be a problem. In fact, I would go so far as to say she should be held as an example of what we all should be trying to do in this economy and current agricultural system! Good for her for working to provide healthy food for her children! Good for her for being frugal! Good for her for wanting to be more environmentally responsible.

Having read some of her blog, I noticed that despite wishing she could have chickens, rain barrels and other accoutrements of sustainable urban homesteads, she doesn’t because they’re illegal in her city. The law over the plants in her front yard are very vague and subjected… What I find suitable obviously isn’t the same as the city of Oak Park. Personally I don’t feel that grass is a suitable plant in any yard unless it’s native… It’s both an environmental disaster, and well… It’s an allergy nightmare if freshly mown or left to go to pollen (aka the yard’s not taken care of) for me, so maybe I have a tiny personal problem with it.

This really is just outrageous, though… I mean, I’ve spent a few days trying to wrap my brain around this. Aren’t there real criminals to throw in jail? Doesn’t the city have better things to worry about, like maybe making sure they have healthy meal options in public schools or something? Are they just so bored that they need a hobby other than picking on their citizens?

If you feel this is as ridiculous as I do, please take a moment to write an email to send to the appropriate people (see below), sign the petition, write about it in your own blog, and join the Facebook page dedicated to keeping us updated on what is going on.

Oak Park City Planner - Kevin Rulkowski
Oak Park Mayor - Gerald E Naftaly

Recipe: Hash Brown Casserole a la Big Girl Pants

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Fri, 08 Jul 2011 20:19:00 +0000

I make hash brown casserole maybe 4 times a year. First of all, it’s one of those dishes you want to keep specifically when you need comfort food. Secondly, it never fails to be so rich that my stomach revolts against me for ingesting too much of it at any given time and never seems to get used to.

In my attempt to use up the last of the processed canned soup that just happens to show up in my pantry (Typically handed off to me by some well-meaning relative who bought extra on sale, and I take it with gratitude for their generosity) and the giant pile of new potatoes we need to get through, I decided to say yes to a modified hash brown casserole. I keep saying I “adulted” it up when I explain it.

I would also note that when I heated up leftovers for lunch, I threw some Spanish chorizo (my gift to myself this week) into the bowl and mixed it up. If you are not a vegetarian or cooking for one, I’d encourage hunting down Spanish-style chorizo to add to this… I’m not sure the Mexican-style would work as well, but it’s worth a try too. Also, if you use the salami-style (Spanish) chorizo, cut the butter down drastically. Consider about a tablespoon or two at most. Otherwise you will have grease city!

Hash Brown Casserole a la Big Girl Pants
Serves: 6-8

1 pound new red potatoes, unpeeled and diced into 1/2-inch cubes
2 green onions, chopped
1 can cream of asparagus soup
1 cup sour cream (embrace the full fat because it’s not like this is healthy for much other than your soul and sanity!)
1/4 cup butter, melted
1 1/12 cups sharp cheddar, shredded
1 T garlic powder (1 tsp if you’re not a garlic fiend)
Pinch of kosher salt and fresh ground black pepper

Topping:
1/2 cup sharp cheddar, shredded
1 cup Panko breading (traditional bread crumbs work just as well)
2 T butter, melted

Preheat oven to 350

1. Bring a large pot of water to boil. Place potatoes in water. Return to boil and blanch for 5 minutes. When finished, drain potatoes.
2. In a large bowl, mix green onions, soup, sour cream, cheese, butter, garlic powder, salt and pepper.
3. Add potatoes to the bowl and mix until evenly coated. Pour into a 2-quart casserole dish and even out the surface. Cover with cheddar cheese evenly.
4. In a small bowl, mix panko and butter. Sprinkle on top of casserole.
5. Bake for 40-45 minutes. Remove and let cool for 10 minutes before serving.

Giveaway Time!

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 03:57:00 +0000

I told myself when I got to 100 followers on my blog, I’d do some sort of giveaway. Well, I’m at 99 followers and 121 subscribers to my feed! I do believe that balances out, doesn’t it?

I’ve had this sculpture stashed away for a while. In high school (ages ago, cough), I did a series of Pagan gods and goddesses in clay. This was one of the smaller goddesses I made. She was intended to be a generic Triple Goddess, but I’ve personally always called her Diana.

She has been fired once in the kiln. So if you don’t care for her unfinished, a coat of primer and paint would work to add color to her. Or, if you have a kiln or know a place that does firing, you have the chance to glaze her!

All you have to do in order to win her is be a follower of my blog and comment below. If you don’t have an email in your profile or a blog that I can track you down on, please be sure to leave some way I can contact you.

This giveaway will end on July 13th, so there’s a small window to get signed up! I’ll be drawing a random number to pick the winner.

Social Anxiety and the Art of Avoidance.

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 06:18:00 +0000

Yesterday was supposed to be my first workshop on organic farming. I say was because I didn’t go…

I have social anxiety disorder (some call it social phobia disorder). I have been working on getting better about it for years now. I’ve had it my entire life in varying levels of severity, and there was a point where I wasn’t able to leave the house because of it. I avoid stores and driving – Especially without someone with me. I’m unable to make telephone calls to strangers or to make appointments even when it’s an emergency. There have been a few times that I have been vomiting due to a migraine and suffering worse because my neighbor’s stereo was too loud and I couldn’t manage to go knock on the door to ask her to turn it down.

Many who know me and are close to me usually don’t see it, or if they do it’s because I’m around too many people at once and have to flee and/or decline invitations to parties. Once I warm up a little, it’s a different story unless it comes to telling people no or confrontation. And since I’m lacking these social skills, it’s pretty easy to be a human doormat and magnet for those who are willing to take advantage of my seemingly good nature.

What happened on Wednesday with missing the workshop, though, is pretty effing painful for me. Google Maps messed up the directions, and the way my town is set up is confusing at best sometimes. In this case, the street it landed me on was the right one, but it ends halfway into the city and then has miles until it starts again in a seemingly random place. So, despite being a punctuality freak, it ended up with me giving up about 20 minutes after the workshops were supposed to start. I had no idea how to get there, and by the time I managed to get there I was going to have to walk into a room full of strangers late. Just thinking about that sort of situation makes my chest tighten up.

The truth is that I started in with my anticipatory anxiety about 4 days before, which was pretty impressive considering that it usually starts about a month in advance. For most of that time my excitement overshadowed my anxiety. But then I started sleeping poorly, and I think that weakened my ability to challenge myself as much as I usually do.

So, since my mother was dropping me off, I had her bring me home. I know she didn’t want to do it, and she even attempted to pull out a map (It wasn’t there). But by that point I wasn’t willing to push myself anymore; I’d been doing it all morning while alone on top of fighting all the irrational thoughts in my head for days before that.

I went up to bed and cried for a while. Andy brought me my computer, a package I’d received in the mail, and a book to read. I guess he realized I was going to be out of commission for the day. I actually slept most of it. Now I just feel depressed and sort of numb… And, well, frustrated and horrible about myself. Sometimes you have to throw a bit of a pity party, and since today I’m supposed to be in workshops again (which I won’t go to since I missed the first 9 hours of them) I don’t see tomorrow being much better. Hopefully after that I’ll decide to suck it up and carry on with my life.

But I am lonely. I love people, and this illness cuts me off from them. In the year we’ve lived here, I’ve not met a single person my own age nor have I made any friends. I’m so hungry for face-to-face interaction or any interaction at all that if I think too long on it, I begin to cry. For a while I didn’t really care, because my mother hadn’t gotten a job yet after moving. She does her best to keep me going out and doing things, but I see a lot less of her these days. Andy is very busy with school and research work, and I get to spend about an hour and a half with him each day – Most of it watching TV. I’m not upset with him about it, because he’s doing what he needs to do in life. We have one car, but I have a lot of trouble getting out by myself still. Every week I say I’m going to go do something, attend a UU service, a community potluck, or some meeting for a group I want to belong to, but by the time comes to do it I never seem to gather the strength required.

Even my friends that I’ve typically talked to on the internet for years and years are all super busy with their lives. We talk once a week if I’m lucky, and it’s nice to have that chance to talk to them even if most of the time I’m just handing over small talk. I hear a lot of “I’m here if you need me,” but I’m getting to the point where I simply no longer believe it. There are other people for them to worry about and they have lives to lead, and while it hurts I understand. I’m getting used to them not being there. We all used to role-play, but since I’m no longer involved with a game I don’t get a chance to indulge in healthy escapism. I miss that. A lot. But I don’t bring it up with them, because at this point I just feel like it would be some sort of charity case for the crazy girl without a life.

And that’s just it… I think that’s where the very core of the pain sits for me. I sit back and watch everyone else have a life, and while most of the time I’m content to fill my days bustling around the house, gardening, teaching myself something, or creating… Well, I just feel like my own life is at a stand-still and what’s holding me back is me. Yet I can’t seem to do anything about it.

To add insult to injury, the key part of my avoidance is brought on by things I recognize are irrational thoughts. I realize that what I’m thinking is crazy, but the more I challenge it, the more I wear down and become unable to fight the discomfort of it all. Medication doesn’t help. And just let me say that being sane enough to realize your having thoughts that aren’t right is actually a lot more troubling than being absolutely delusional since you’re aware.

It is easy to sit back without experience with this illness and suggest a person needs to cultivate a stronger “fuck it” attitude, but the very basis of social anxiety is the fear of being judged by others. That’s not just an attitude you can magically develop just because you want to. Personally I don’t think it’s a 100% healthy attitude for anyone to have, but my view may be skewed.

It’s also easy to suggest I get into therapy again. However, despite this situation being the most horrible, humbling experience I can come up with, I still can’t pick up the phone and call for help. Trust me, I’ve tried.

So… That is where I’m at. I had a fabulous couple of weeks despite being lonely. What goes up eventually must come down. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see when things go up again for me.

American Culture?

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Wed, 22 Jun 2011 06:14:00 +0000

I cringe a little when I’m told Americans don’t have a culture or worse yet our culture is Consumerism. Yes, modern mainstream American culture holds plenty of consumerism and plasticity, but you guys… We have culture. Historically as a melting pot, we have lots of culture. We may not have quite as long a history as our European brothers and sisters as a nation, but those of us with European ancestry do, in fact, share parts of their culture with them. But as Americans, we do have a distinct identity, and you can either spend your time being apologetic about the not so great things about it (Hopefully keeping in mind there’s no such thing as a perfect history or culture) or you can decide to embrace the good parts of it and actively work to help change the things that you don’t care for.

It’s easy to assume by looking at history that every single person in an era subscribed to the culture of their time. We assume that all of Victorian England was sexually repressed, for instance, when actually looking at the history of the era tells us otherwise. Rome gets written off as decadent despite quite a bit of historical literature giving us the story of the people believing in a modest life. Writing off Americans then as consuming, shallow a-holes is right in the same vein of thinking. But personally I think it’s a little lazy and close-minded to simply make that sort blanket statement.

I am a Midwesterner. I come from a tiny part of the country called Little Dixie, historically it was overrun by Southerners who brought their culture with them, and so I’ve got this weird mishmash of Northern/Southern cultural identity that leaves no one wanting to claim me. My mother also claims that I’m a throw-back to the way older generations think and do things – Something practical, frugal, and modest. But the number of simple living, homesteading, homemaking, and DIY blogs out there tell me that I’m not the only one.

All of these things are part of our culture as Americans. Being from the Midwest, the vast majority of my ancestors were farmers. The first thing most of them did when getting to the Midwest was start a farm – Some which were held for generations. Up until my generation, everyone in my family lived on a farm. While things like churning butter have gone by the wayside, the food has stayed the same – A proper breakfast is so hearty that half the time after eating it you just want to go back to bed, which comes from needing the energy to be out working your butt off all day on the farm.

Our summer festivals, our regional food dishes, our reaching out to help our neighbors… All part of our culture. State fairs. Soda pop (be it for better or worse). Pop culture (once again for better or worse). This is all culture. All cultures have these things, it’s just that a country based on religious freedom (and sometimes floundering at it) has put a very secular spin on it… But then again, history tends to ignore the mainstream movement of societies to focus on big events, movers and shakers, and larger trends.

Pompeii had food buffets sort of like our American Chinese buffets, but you don’t read about that in a general history book. Well, sort of like ours… We are a bit puritanical, so murals of Priapus simply wouldn’t fly. And yet the vast majority (at least in the Midwest) probably wouldn’t blink at a picture of Jesus hanging on the wall near the salad bar.

I’m not all about consumerism either, but I feel like if we just use it as a cop out and excuse as to why Americans are lacking culture, we’re letting consumerism win. Maybe my domestic, practicality-based belief system has forced me to understand that there are good things about us Americans both historically and presently. Save for what seems to be a generational sense of entitlement and a disturbing trend of narcissism that’s actually showing up in psychological studies, for the most part I think we’re alright folk. And I think that these stereotypes we don’t like can be changed - That change starts with working on ourselves.

Most people hate stereotypes, so quit stereotyping your own people. Live within your ethical convictions and others will take notice. Discuss things with them, and you may just help the change along. Look around and realize that Americans are not all bad, and the culture we have exists if you’re willing to look for it while standing in the middle of it.

Note: I guess I’m apparently a little bit more patriotic than I realized… Weird. I’ll wave my hand around dismissively and say something about loving the people of my country but not the government since I’m so left that I feel liberal is too conservative at times.

The 2011 EWG's Dirty Dozen and Clean Fifteen

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 06:00:00 +0000

Very few people will argue that organic produce is better for you than produce obtained from commercial farming. At our home, we’re on a very limited budget for food of around $30 a week for two adults right now, but that budget does fluctuate throughout the year. Fortunately, we keep to a vegetarian diet at home (I eat meat when someone else is kind enough to fix it for me) unless we have company. If we were eating meat, we wouldn’t be able to get by on that little.

We eat seasonal as much as we can, because doing so cut down costs and doesn’t support shipping things like tomatoes from other countries.

We eat local produce as much as we can, which in the summer is actually easier and more enjoyable than going to the grocery store. I’m not sure when the last time I bought food for us at a conventional grocery store was, because most of our food is currently coming from the farmer’s market or a CSA share we belong to. When I go to pick up my CSA, I grab up flour, milk and the other necessities I can’t get at farmer’s market at a tiny grocery store that only sells locally-produced products and a few carefully selected organics from not within our state.

We also eat as organic as possible, which admittedly isn’t easy when we’re stretching the dollar, though the price of organic food is actually more realistic and fair to the farmers that produce it. Most of your local farmers would likely tell you that conventional farming doesn’t pay a living wage.

Still I sometimes have to choose to obtain certain things from the grocery store, and they aren’t organic due to cost. We do what we can, but we’re committed to not owning credit cards to buy our necessities with.

For those of you who are like me, you can still buy a mix of organic and non-organic produce. When I have to buy conventional, I stick to the Environmental Working Group’s Dirty Dozen and Clean 15 lists. Things on the Dirty Dozen list are the produce for the year that they’re finding the highest concentration of pesticides (and sometimes unapproved ones! Yikes!) on, and the Clean 15 are the least chemical-laden. This is even after being washed and peeled.

This is the Dirty Dozen List for 2011: Apples, celery, strawberries, peaches, spinach, nectarines (imported), grapes (imported), sweet bell peppers, potatoes, blueberries (domestic), lettuce, kale/collard greens. I personally ad #13 to the list, which is cilantro, because that’s a big one for unapproved chemicals this year (33? Really cilantro farmers? Really?)

The Clean 15 List for 2011: Onions, sweet corn, pineapples, avocadoes, sweet peas (frozen), mango, eggplant, cantaloupe (domestic), kiwi, cabbage, watermelon, sweet potatoes, grapefruit, mushrooms, and winter squash.

Here is a link to a basic article on this year’s list

Get the full scoop from the EWG’s website

So what about you? Do you stick to lists like this to help you make decisions in shopping? Are you organic or death? I'd love to hear about your rules for grocery shopping.

The Gods Answered My Slightly Existential Crisis... Part One

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Sat, 18 Jun 2011 06:22:00 +0000

Years ago, I corresponded with a psychic from London. At the time, I thought about going into social work, and I asked her if that was the direction I was meant to go in. The answer I got back was that I would end up working to help people, because by the time I got to it the system would be so broken that it would need me. After years of struggling with my own mental health issues, I decided perhaps it would be too hard on me.

Then came a calling to ministry a few years later, which I still believe is a calling I’m supposed to heed. However, Pagan ministry is obviously not an easy calling, and originally my thought on Unitarian Universalist ministry has long since passed due to problems within their system I simply couldn’t endure.

In all my time, in everything I’ve wanted to do with my life, it’s always been about helping people. I’m rocked down to my very core by the urge to help, to teach, to lead by example on a regular basis.

The beginning of the year began with questions about my future. Astrologically, I’m coming to the last part of my Saturn Return, and I turn 30 in September. It disturbed me that, having always been a very goal-oriented person, I suddenly found myself with very vague goals that had no way to build upon them.

Things shifted in February, though. I have a baker’s dozen posts half-finished about my life and trying to make sense of it all starting from January and running until just last week. I’m still trying to make sense of where the journey has led me and the journey itself, but in April things slowly started to clear for me. The weird compulsions and vague ideas started cementing into something solid – Specifically, I began thinking that perhaps I was meant to be a farmer.

At the beginning of May, I received a link in a newsletter pointing me to an amazing educational opportunity – One that would help me build a business plan for a farming venture and get out into the world to see how others are running farms throughout the country. It’s virtually free for me to take these classes, travel both in and out of state, and get feedback on my plans for a business.

For 24 hours, I agonized over putting in an application or not. I talked to my loved ones about this chance and applying. My friend, Daniel, put it a little into perspective for me – If this is what I’m meant to do, despite openly admitting to having virtually no practical knowledge at this point, I’d get in. So I put in my request to the Gods – If farming is what I’m meant to do, please let me get into this program so I know.

That night I sent in my application. The next day I got a note saying I’d hear back when the deadline at the end of May had passed. I went about my business learning what I can and signing up for a few extra classes during that time, because I saw no point in missing out on them in the event I got into the program. There’s been a lot of dreaming things up and keeping my hands in the dirt.

I worried. And I fretted. Then I would chastise myself over worrying and fretting, which is really just doubting that you'll be provided for. And all the while I kept talking to the Gods, saying I needed a clear sign of purpose. I’ve wanted to do a lot in my life, but at this age I find myself getting more worried about actually doing something.

Things rolled in and out of the information I was getting. A lot of articles on food ethics and the opinions of farmers in Roman society kept coming up. The deadline passed by, and I started feeling a deep anxiety in the pit of my stomach. What if I wasn’t accepted? Then what? Was it just a hurdle to jump, and should I apply later? Should I keep on this path? How the heck did I even get to this point? I checked my email with the nervousness of waiting for the call back after a first date, and I started scurrying out to my mailbox just in case they sent me information through mail.

So two Tuesdays ago, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went outside, looked up at the sky, and said aloud (I never say anything aloud!), “I can’t take this anymore. I have to know if I was accepted or not. Please, I’m begging you, just let me know if I got in or not. I’ll go from there.”

I came inside. I wandered around a little. I got a soda, and I sat down to check my email. According to Andy, the sound I made at that point was a cross between a final breath and a cow giving birth. The email was sitting there in my mailbox. I’d been accepted. I’d gotten my answer. The Gods are kind and good!

More on this later… The hows, whats, etc. I’m just sick of writing 15 pages and then not publishing them for everyone to see. It's one in the morning, so I guess this is just Part One.

White Buffalo Calf Born in Texas & Scientists Trap Anti-Matter

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Tue, 07 Jun 2011 22:32:00 +0000

The summer heat has rendered me unable to put together coherent thoughts. Therefore, you are getting videos and links today.

1. A white buffalo calf was born in Texas in May showing all the proper markings for it to be one of the sacred animals of prophecy.

Sacred White Buffalo Born in Texas: MyFoxDFW.com

I'm interested in what this guy has to tell us. He is seriously adorable, too.

A little more on the White Buffalo Prophecy and the outlook on it...

2. And finally, Cora over at The Iconoclastic Domina, recently talked about dark matter and soil in relation to The Emerald Tablet (Cora, if you read this, please hit me if I paraphrased this incorrectly!). Well, yesterday scientists were able to trap anti-matter for 15 or so minutes for the first time, which means they will be studying it soon. Living with a physicist, I seem to latch onto these things that I admittedly don't fully understand with interest, so I thought I would share... Because on a gut level, without being capable of being eloquent about it today, I see it as an extension of "As Above, So Below," too.

Rant: I'm Still a Pagan... And You're Still a Jerk.

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 20:24:00 +0000

The issue with loving your home life as much as I do and being so busy with it is that sometimes you just lack much to say on your blog… Also, you other bloggers are so prolific in my google reader, that some days all I do online is sit and read and read and read. I could be held responsible since I follow so many blogs, but for once I feel like passing the blame onto others since it’s because you are AWESOME.

Plus everyone has been discussion about what Pagans should call themselves. If we should all be Pagans. How much easier identifying as a polytheist is, etc. For some reason this discussion kind of caused my eyes to glaze. I guess I’m of the “call yourself what you want” school. Being so solitary in my practice, and not being comfortable with my past experience with face-to-face (or sometimes in-your-face) Pagan community has left me kind of sighing over everything involved with this discussion.

I am a Pagan, though. Differing opinions would put me in as a “soft” polytheist, and some more hardliners would consider my view that all Divine beings eventually lead to one would try to pin me as a monotheist because of it. Yes, I believe in the Gods. I believe they’re both separate beings, but I believe they’re made up of the same unifying Divine we all are, which in turn makes them inseparable. And it’s that all-is-one mentality that keeps me from being able to claim I’m any specific thing beyond a Pagan. Beyond Paganism, my modern American religion, with all the melting pot of my spiritual upbringing and conversing with the gods, has left me without a label beyond Pagan.

So far I think the closest I’ve ever come to finding a group that believes in the same view of the Divine as me would be those practicing Haitian Vodou. A lot of the religion speaks to me, and I adore learning about it – In fact, if I went back to school for religious studies, I’d probably focus on the group of religions that belong in this family. But I don’t practice. No Loa has shown up and demanded I practice, and I don’t feel a particular need to do so.

In practice there is some overlap of belief with Religio Romana that I appreciate. And my ancestor worship is a major part of my practice.

My religion doesn’t have a name, and I like it that way. I love the Roman aspects of my beliefs like crazy. I work towards maintaining Roman values for myself. If I tried to call myself a member of Religio Romana the majority (or perhaps just the outspoken) of those practicing Roman polytheism would chase me around with pitchforks despite sharing quite a lot with them.

For years now I’ve been told that eclecticism is a thing that doesn’t lead to the pure spiritual path that practicing a single religion does. For me I feel like it has. Working with personal gnosis on top of research and education has taught me a very revealing thing about myself: If I don’t believe in it all, I have problems believing at all.

So… I’m a Pagan. I will remain a Pagan. I will continue to resist having to label myself beyond it, and I think in writing this I’ve come to the main reason why…

Because I’m sick and tired of all of these high and mighty opinions coming from everyone else. Glad your religious path is working for you. Glad you are finding meaning in your life. Glad your gods are paying attention to the love and devotion you give them. Really, I am. But please, for the love of all that is right and good, stop and think about what you sound like when you start in talking about the other side.

It is insulting when you consider me a monotheist, because I don’t consider myself one. And stating that I’m convincing myself that I’m not is really pretty self-important. I’m a human, which means that I’m never going to be 100% sure my beliefs are 100% true. I’m always going to be questioning and trying to figure things out… I think that’s part of what the purpose of humans is; I think that blind faith is dangerous. And if you want to consider me agnostic because of it, so be it… Though since I don’t consider myself agnostic, and you’re using it in a demeaning manner, I’m not sure how it is that you can get all bent out of shape that Pagan is a disparaging Christian term when people call you it. Seems a bit hypocritical if you ask me.

(And as a side note, I find the terms “hard polytheism” and “soft polytheism” to be insulting, too. Typically because it’s used by those who speak on “soft” in a way that makes it seem like they consider this worldview less valid. There is nothing soft about my beliefs, thank you. Figure out another way to express your concept of my beliefs when talking to me, because if you pretend ignorance on the derogatory term “fluffy” within this community and how soft could easily be taken to mean that, I’m going to call you on your shit.)

I feel really, really put out of place when I read opinions about eclecticism being a weak path. Like somehow my beliefs not being easily labeled and categorized makes me religiously lesser than others who can say “I am (such and such).” I’m absolutely thrilled (and I’m not being sarcastic) that you are able to find a religion that speaks to you 100% or that you are able to at least overlook the differences. I can’t. I’ve tried, and it doesn’t work. And I am tired of feeling like my belief system is anything less than yours just because no one else practices exactly like I do, and I understand that most religions are a giant mish-mash of the religions that came before them.

Plus those pants make you look bloated. Okay, maybe I’m just butthurt. But seriously, people, please think before you start writing about what you think of other people. I don’t think I’ve even gotten my point across, because after weeks of this all I can do is rant still.

Awesome. Only not at all.

Sharing a Song

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Wed, 04 May 2011 23:45:00 +0000

My friend Daniel had me listen to this song yesterday, and I can't stop listening to it. With a title like Gay Pirates, you don't expect something so... Utterly sweet and wonderful. And seriously? The line "I'll love you still in hell?" Amazing.

I just had to share.

The Death of an Enemy and the Ghost of Another

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Tue, 03 May 2011 08:37:00 +0000

(Note: This was written when I should be sleeping, so please excuse rambling, typos, misspellings, and generally wackiness. I should probably wait until I sleep to post things, but what would be the fun in that?)

Yesterday was International Pagan Coming Out Day. I was going to talk about it, but between my body declaring it International Stay In Bed Day and all this bin Laden junk I sort of lost sight of where I stand on being out.

It’s funny to me how the whole Pagan Coming Out Day and bin Laden’s death sort of melded together for me into one giant bucket of yuck. I made the personal choice not to draw attention to myself any more than I had to… I’m not exactly in the broom closet, but I wanted to take a moment to let people know what my experience has been like. People who don’t read my blog and probably don’t know it exists. People who are Facebook friends with me…

But then I started reading all the things people were saying about bin Laden. I have my own feelings about the whole deal, but once again I’ve decided that it is easier to just keep my mouth shut while emotions are running high. I will tell you, though, that I am absolutely horrified by the sheer number of times I read “may he rot in hell.”

It’s odd what will re-open old wounds… Apparently for me it was seeing the judging, harsh words of people I have known/know in my life over the death of an enemy.

You see, I was obnoxiously out about my new found religion back in my teenage years. I didn’t have much to lose then, and I was rightfully prone to outrage over people not accepting me for who I was. In a way, that has probably become a piece of my social anxiety. I don’t think I deflected as much as I stored away the bullying and harassment for later in life.

Being out as a teenager didn’t accomplish much of anything… Other than almost 11 years later my high school still has a dress code policy that bans “occult jewelry and make-up.” Way to go, Indianola, Iowa! At some point (when I’m in a better place to revisit the memories), I will talk more about being a Pagan in high school… Today isn’t it.

Today, though, I saw people who battered me with their religious views in the past not practice the compassion their religion asks of them. I saw judgment being passed. I saw lots of God talk. And I don’t know… This little box shoved into the dark corner of my mind was opened, allowing memories of sobbing in anger during the week of graduation, because I simply couldn’t understand how my high school could sanction religious events as a public school while not allowing me to wear a small sign of my faith and being so angry that people were willing to condemn me for my beliefs when I tried my hardest to be a good person.

It’s amazing to realize how much pain is still there for me. Last week, I was told by a spiritual advisor that I needed to let go of the past. I was pretty sure that I had, but apparently I’ve just pushed it pretty deep instead. It kind of makes me nervous to think what else may be lurking underneath the surface.

I’m in an odd place. Knowing that I am walking the path of healing myself so that I may go into ministry without finding myself crumbling, I have to stop and screw up my face over the absolute fear of being judged by people. About a month ago, though, I quietly changed my Facebook religious view statement from Unitarian Universalist to Eclectic Pagan. This may seem slightly minor, but I’m Facebook friends with my grandmother… Who has on more than one occasion said some very, um… Disconcerting things in regards to her totalitarian view of religion… Involving but not limited to my having a hole only Jesus can fill.

I also had the International Pagan Coming Out Day icon as my photo on Facebook for a few days… So right. Not really in the closet for the most part? But I wanted to share a bit more of myself with those willing to pay attention…

You know… Until bin Laden’s death reminded me that sometimes the people I know and/or love can be really judgmental, mean, and lacking in compassionate thinking... Or at the very least lacking in the ability to keep from publicly showing it.

My heart is broken over it all. I think, at least for tonight/today, I’ll blame it on hormones. The block of cheese and half a bag of pretzels I just consumed while writing this, the cramps that are plaguing me, and the fatigue I’m experiencing may very well back me up on this one.

I think all I can do tonight is go to bed, say my prayers and a few extra, and pass out.

(Haha, I said block of cheese and back me up in the same sentence!)

So. That was my International Pagan Coming Out Day… Did you do anything for the day? Did you blog about it – Either in support of or in criticism against it? Please share with me! I’m really curious about how things went and how the entire concept was received by the general populace but also the Pagan community!

Hi at 2 in the Morning!

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 07:39:00 +0000

This is just a quick note to say that I have been in Memphis, Tennessee for the last week visiting friends and loved ones. Tomorrow afternoon I get back on the bus to go home. I have so much to write about! Argh! It kills me to have to go to bed now instead of rambling on and on and on like I want to. Therefore, I leave you with a few pictures I took from Elmwood Cemetery instead because I am a closet goth... But seriously it is ridiculously beautiful there.

My Lararium Tour

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 22:16:00 +0000

We moved in July, and I have been absolutely hideous about getting things unpacked. Plus it seems to me that we’ve just recently really been thinking about our living space beyond “OMG, we live here now!!!”

Today I set up my Lararium. For those of you not familiar with Religio Romana, allow me to explain that this is an altar to the Lares. Specifically the Lares Familiares, who are the guardians of the family, and Lares Domestici, who are the guardians of the home. This also serves as a point for the Penates (ancestor/gods/guardians), Hecate (my matron), and a general launch pad of daily worship (offerings, prayers, etc). I live in a small space; Vesta has a shrine in my kitchen space that I’m working on, and Apollon… Well, he and I haven’t decided where his shrine is going.

This probably isn’t quite what most practicing Religio do, but I’m still wrapping my brain around the fact that I may very well be practicing Relgio on my own terms. Honoring my ancestors has always been a large part of my practice.

When I was little, my grandfather built each of the granddaughters a hutch to house our toy china collections. To this day I marvel over the details. He went so far as to put notches in to hold up plates. We moved it into the house thinking we’d store my heirloom stemware in it, but it proved too small. So it returned to my plan of building a Lararium with it. It sits in our dining space.

You can also see my first broom. Amusingly enough, I’ve had it since I was about five. My mother will tell you that I have always had a “thing” for brooms. Much like black cats.

Hecate sits among my orchids. When I finally settle on an idol of Apollon, he will likely go here, too. What this picture isn’t showing are my printed plate of Kali (also honored in our house) and a large painted leaf with Helios (Sol) and Eos (Aurora) on his chariot with his winged horses.

The main surface space is for my offerings.

Behind the glass doors rest various relics to those who have passed: My grandfather’s pipe and the collars of two pets we said good-bye to. Also sitting inside is a statue of a deer, which is my totem. To be included are other pieces that are still tucked away in a box in my studio some where – For instance, my great-grandmother’s crochet hook and another grandfather’s high school class ring. My photos of them will have to be scanned and made smaller to fit inside. It’s pretty bare right now, but given time this entire space will be packed, I’m sure, as I include rocks and other pretty things for their enjoyment.

The drawer will hold working tools. Right now my old ritual blade is housed there along with a bunch of feathers. Said feathers are being used in my wedding, but I figured they could use a little spiritual bath of sorts.

Underneath I have storage space for extra dishes, candles, herbs, and religious what-have-yous. Which leads me to believe that I may have the perfect space set up for what I do.

Do you have a picture or blog post about your worshiping space? I’d love to see it!

Monday Morning Meditation: Mourning Mouse

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Tue, 05 Apr 2011 04:48:00 +0000

Jasper, Mouse (1991-2011), and Bully (1999-2011) in 2006

Two days after posting about Mouse, we were forced to say good-bye to him. Time has gone on, and in our home we find ourselves missing him at the strangest times - Cleaning out the litter box being one of them. He always made a mess. We always hated it. Now we find ourselves missing it.

My studio, which is where he spent most of his time, has been abandoned for now. I just can’t manage to spend time there. I go in, grab what I need, and take it elsewhere. At least I’ve stopped crying every time I don’t find him in there. This week I’ll open up the windows and hope that the fresh air will suck out some of the void.

Even Jasper has experienced the loss. Granted, Mouse hated Jasper, but Jasper loved him anyway. Now he freaks out due to separation anxiety if Andy or I leave for even five minutes. I’m already talking about getting another cat, but only because of Jasper. Andy isn’t happy with it. In my defense, I’ve talked about a new cat for years. It’ll be a while before we bring another one home, but I worry about Jasper’s emotional health.

I wanted to write Mouse a letter, but I’m just not ready to yet. I thought about posting it here, but in honesty I seem to prefer to mourn in the comfort of my own home. Ideally alone. That is what the last month has taught me, at least, between the loss of my mother’s dog and Mouse. Wonderful, wonderful Mouse.

I miss him.

Pagan Blog Prompts: Magic(k)

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Sat, 02 Apr 2011 16:47:00 +0000

What IS it? What does it mean to you? How can it exist? How does it work? What's with the extra 'k', anyhow?

Expound as you see fit.

- Pagan Blog Prompts, 3/31/11

Magic is an interesting subject to me, and I am endlessly fascinated with the different ways it is used in different areas of history and the world. I think, perhaps, that’s where the seeds of my interest in religious studies started. When I started to put it all together and see the common threads, I became more understanding that we are all kind of doing the same thing despite having different words and beliefs.

My personal understanding of magic is that it’s basically very powerful prayer. You build your energy through intentional acts and push it out into the world. In a way, I think it sends off a chain reaction, energy bumping energy, directed towards whatever your goal may be.

Magic, to me, is just energy. Performing magic is simply sticking your hand into the mix and guiding your intentions towards the goal. Sometimes that’s enough, but most of the time one has to continue guiding it by working towards the goal at the same time. For instance, if a person casts a spell to get a job, they have to keep looking for a job.

Magic is sacred. It is in everything, yes, but as humans we have the ability to use it like clay to mold it to our desires.

It’s the same thing with praying. As humans, we have the very fortunate luck of being able to connect with our higher power and ask them for things. However, we are responsible for working for what we want. If you’re not opening up the door to get that new job by searching, applying, interviewing, the likelihood of someone showing up at your door and offering you one is pretty slim.

I don’t practice magic. Even in the direst circumstances, I never have the urge to do so. This doesn’t mean in the future something may pop up that I feel it’s necessary to employ it. I just put my faith in my gods. My relationship with them makes me feel confident that my prayers will be answered, though not always in a manner that makes sense right away. I worship them, and they take care of me. They are the gods, and I am the human… They know better than me, you know?

Thinking on it, I guess I’ve learned how to incorporate a few things into my life that I don’t think about anymore… For instance, when my friend felt the need to severe ties that were resulting in an evil eye situation, I rubbed her down with an egg… That’s about the extent of it.

Talismans? Sure. Purified crystals? You betcha. Colored candles on my altar to signal requests? Yup. But for the most part, despite these being magical in concept, I don’t… Well, I guess I don’t practice “high magic.” I don’t chant incantations – Does anyone else feel silly rhyming? I am not a fantasy novel.

Not too long ago I discovered that my former teacher and group of Wiccans performed a spell to have a football team win for local media. A football team… Because in a world with so many other things happening, we worry about if our team is going to win a game.

It made me sad. Not only because magic shouldn’t be a publicity stunt, but because it seems to me that we shouldn’t plug up energy fields with trivial matters. In a world where many of us live pay check-to-pay check with the risk of losing everything, don’t have a cure for cancer, and are experiencing natural disasters more often as the Earth changes… Well, I understand some people are fanatics about sports, but we should be looking at the bigger picture. I won’t even get into the politics of Pagans performing magic for the media today.

The spell didn’t work, by the way. While I won’t say the Gods aren’t sports fans, I guess they had their money down on the other team that day. And as we should all know by now, the Gods’ will trumps human desire.

Frugalista: Yogurt Cheese is Super Easy!

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 23:10:00 +0000

As a well-known 12-step program has taught my family, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. My problem is good cheese. I can’t handle not having it, but my brain also can’t handle paying for it.

Not to make light of addiction, because my, um… Passion for goat cheese is a far cry from one. However paying the $5 to $7 price for those becoming logs of goat cheese at the supermarket for a mere 4 ounces nearly kills me. The problem, beyond being proudly cheap, is that once I get it home I will sit and eat the entire thing in one sitting. Sometimes by itself. And, well, sitting isn’t really the proper word for it. It’s more of an ecstatic writhing. Complete with moaning if I happen to be alone – Which I usually am since I wouldn’t want anyone else to witness me partaking in rolling around on the ground speaking in tongues over food.

I figure as long as I’m not naked while doing this, I’m not hitting an all-time low. But summer is coming up, so I wouldn’t rule it out completely just yet once the weather is warmer.

In my quest to be more in touch with my food and save lots of money, I’ve discovered that yogurt cheese is much cheaper to make and is an acceptable substitution. I picked up one of the larger bulk containers of plain yogurt yesterday for $2; granted it’s not organic. (We’re still not 100% organic around here, but that’s another blog post altogether.)

I don’t have cheesecloth currently, but it’s the ideal thing to use. Instead, just this once, I stole a couple of Andy’s coffee filters, because my floursack towels are all dirty. I’ve found that floursack towels work. So if you have them (everyone should!) and a lack of cheesecloth, by all means use them… Just not the ones you use for household chemicals obviously.

Here is my recipe-in-progress*:

Yields approximately 2 cups of soft cheese.

3 cups yogurt
Dash of salt
Dash of pepper
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1 teaspoon dried dill
1 teaspoon dried chives

Mix it all up in a bowl
Line a metal strainer with 2 layers of cheese cloth or flour sack. Put yogurt and herb mixture onto your cloth.
At this point you can optionally wrap your yogurt with the cloth and begin wringing out some of the moisture from it. This will mean you don’t have to wait as long for awesomeness, but don’t feel the need to if you’re patient. Return to strainer.
Put the cloth on the strainer again, and put the strainer on top of a bowl so that the water can drain into it.
Put the bowl in the refrigerator for a day or two. I suggest dumping the liquid from time-to-time just so you can check out how your cheese is doing.
Transfer to a clean, sealed container – Like the yogurt container if it had a lid! This should keep about two weeks.
Feel less neurotically guilty about the price of deliciousness as you devour it. Clothing optional.

Even those who are less hardcore in DIYing than I am may want to give this a try! I mean how much easier can it get than mixing things up in a bowl and basically wandering off for a couple days?

I'm pondering the future with a sun-dried tomato and basil mix. Or maybe garlic overload. What other things can you think to add in with this?

*Warning: My recipes-in-progress rarely involve exact measurements. I hold the title of Queen Eyeballer in my home. I’ve successfully made cookies in the past with no measuring cups or spoons, so I can’t be too bad at it. However, I’d start with small amounts of seasoning and taste as you add more. Rarely does anyone get as thrilled over dill as I do.

Our Friend Mouse

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Thu, 24 Mar 2011 20:57:00 +0000

Mouse decided to sleep on my basil starts.

There is a certain art to sharing your home with a geriatric cat. The truth is that it is all too easy to find yourself dreading the what-ifs and whens instead of appreciating the time you have with your companion. Yesterday I spent some time angry with the gods, because they seemed to be delivering the exact opposite of what I’d been praying for – That my beloved Siamese, Mouse, would pass peacefully in his sleep and not have to take the stressful trip to the vet in his final moments. This day, however, has turned into a slightly better outcome I suppose.

Mouse will be 20-years-old in July. He has been in my life since I was 9. My fiancé and I took him in when my mother was no longer able to take care of him due to moving, and he has survived two moves of his own with minimal adjustment problems. At 19, he experienced a 5 hour car ride, nearly being overdosed on Valium due to inadequate vet care (I’m saying this as nicely as I can, but I hold a lot of anger and resentment towards the vet in question), and relearned how to master going up and down stairs with stiff hips. He discovered a passion for canned food and mashed potatoes. And he generally gets attention lavished upon him even when he is being an annoying jerk.

Granted, age has not been kind to him, and unfortunately I didn’t listen to my intuition telling me to get him into the vet sooner. And, once again, little day-to-day changes tend to not be noticed until it’s too late. Therefore, my gigantic 35-pound snarling, biting watch cat has been reduced to a very frail 4.3-pound cuddle monster that tends to forget to wash his face.

We were gone over the weekend to New Orleans. My mother took care of him and Jasper while we were gone, dutifully coming to fuss over them twice a day. Our departure, though, depressed Mouse. One day he came half-way down the stairs to see who came in before going up to his room. After a couple days he simply quit coming downstairs, having given up on us coming home.

When we got home on Monday, he was happy to see us. But he’s always been a moody fellow, so on Tuesday when he didn’t hobble down the stairs I didn’t think much of it. Well, that’s not exactly true. I thought he was mad and sulking. Plus some days he simply sleeps all day, so it’s not unusual to have a Mouse-free day downstairs from time-to-time. On more than one occasion, I stopped to wonder where he was but talked myself out of checking on him.

I was wrong. 6:30 PM passed, and I finally went upstairs to ask him if he was hungry. He usually starts bugging me for food about 4:30, though daylight saving time isn’t something he really grasps the concept of. When I walked into the room he spends most of his time in, he lifted his head and let out a helpless cry. It was then that I realized something was wrong. I rushed over to discover that our modem cord had dislodged from its space. Somehow Mouse had managed to get himself caught in it. I couldn’t get it off of him, and I couldn’t figure out exactly where it even was on his body – Though I was immediately thankful it wasn’t around his neck.

The cord had wrapped tightly around his loose skin in front of his right hip, and somehow it was wrapped under his leg pinning it in an odd position. He was too weak to put up a fight with me when I started trying to get him untangled. He didn’t fight when my fiancé stepped in to attempt the same thing. It didn’t take long for me to decide we needed to cut it off of him, because there was no way to pull it without possibly hurting him. Not knowing exactly where the cord was wrapped made that an even scarier prospect. So the fiancé carefully snipped him out, and the cord that came off of him was completely disfigured and twisted. There were no teeth marks.

It’s hard to say how long Mouse was trapped, which has a heavy weight in regards to guilt. He’d wet himself, he was dehydrated, and he was too weak to stand. I gently picked him up and put him by his water so he could drink, which he did, and when he was given his canned food he gobbled it down.

Then he started walking, though it was obviously hard for him. He stumbled about and limped. His hip seemed to be sitting in a weird position. But he was putting weight on it, and he wasn’t trying to get away from us fussing over him. Eventually he made his way to the litter box, and with some struggle he used it.

I brought my mom over for another pair of eyes to see what was going on. She was surprised to see him doing as well as he was considering what I’d told her over the phone. So the three of us decided we would wait it out and see what happened instead of taking an emergency trip to the vet. Later in the evening he came downstairs.

Yesterday came. I stayed at home to watch him. He didn’t go very long with walking before laying down and sleeping. He seemed very uncomfortable. But he was still nibbling on food, drinking water, and urinating. Then our other cat started hovering with me, not going beyond a few feet of Mouse at any given time other than the hour we played fetch together.

In the afternoon, I couldn’t take it any longer. I’d gotten online to read about senior cats and started worrying about all the other problems we’d had for years with him – Most starting so long ago that I just thought they were normal. Eventually, I couldn’t take it any longer. He seemed so weak and frail, and he was starting to be a little unresponsive when it came to me petting him. I called the vet and was told to bring him in.

Mouse didn’t put up a fight yesterday at all, which is unlike him even in his old age. While I waited for my mother, I went into the bathroom and cried – Afraid that I would upset my precious cat if I got too emotional around him. He’s always been one to come and check on me when I’m crying. I genuinely thought I would not be bringing Mouse home at all, but at the very least I’d not be bringing him home the same day.

An hour later, I received the phone call. It was both good news and bad news. First of all, he was sore and probably had pulled a muscle in his hip. But nothing was broken or out-of-place skeletally. This was good. However, the vet was quick to say that Mouse is suffering from kidney failure. It’s to be expected in older animals – Only three weeks ago my mother’s dog was diagnosed with the same problem, though other health issues resulted in having him euthanized not too long after that.

The vet said that Mouse will just have to deal with his injury’s pain, because his kidney function is so low he didn’t want to give him any medicine for it. I agreed that was a good idea, because really he wasn’t in extreme pain. Having a pain disorder myself, I’ve got a decent understanding of pain and what it does. But I feel confident in my decision to agree with the vet – By the time we went to pick Mouse up he was moving better than he had in days.

What the vet did suggest, though, was to start Sub-Q fluid therapy if we felt comfortable doing it. After discussing it just a little (say about 20 seconds), my fiancé and I decided that we were willing to consider it. While there, I asked the vet to show us how to do it, and I felt a little more comfortable with the idea after seeing how well Mouse reacted to it. Granted, he wasn’t feeling well, and once he gets feeling better it may be a bit more of a fight. We’ll see, though.

We will have to give Mouse injections of fluids every other day under his skin. He is decidedly going to be swollen and lumpy from the liquid. I’m obviously terrified of this, but everyone keeps assuring me that we’ll all get used to doing it very quickly. Right now I’m not as worried about the actual poking part but making sure all the tubing is hooked up right. I’m sure as soon as I have it all put together and have the needle in hand, I’ll feel the grip of fear there.

The good news is that after 24 hours, the first treatment given by our vet has brought about a lot of changes in our dear friend. He has taken to talking to me again, though his voice isn’t as strong as it used to be. For the first time in I’m not sure how long, he has started to sit back on his rear end instead of letting it hover on the ground. And last night he put up a hissing and spitting protest to Jasper trying to clean him – A good sign that he’s getting his fight back.

That’s just the thing… Mouse is not ready to leave his life. Inevitably he will at some point, but today just isn’t the day for it. He’s more interested in sleeping on my basil starts or eating mashed potatoes. And honestly my fiancé and I aren’t willing to have him leave us before it’s time. He’s been in my life since I was 9, after all, and as long as he’s still fighting and coping with his illness I’m willing to help him embrace the journey of his life. I’ve known him long enough to know to understand what he’s telling me. And he’s telling me he’s not done living just yet.

Am I worried and scared? Yes. Do I realize that taking care of a special needs cat will probably require more time at home? Yes.

But in the last few months, oddly more than any other time in my life, I’ve learned that I’m tough. I can handle this, and when I can’t I have my fiancé to pick up when I need help – That is one of our greatest strengths as a couple, and when it’s needed I do it for him, too. This is our family, after all. Unconventional perhaps, but family all the same.

We all love each other, and we all care for each other. So we will do this with dedication and grace. And through all of it I will work my hardest at taking this journey with Mouse as a spiritual path – Practicing the art of living in the present instead of the future or the past. When I look at it that way, at the beginning of the final stretch, I find myself almost thankful that I’ve been given the opportunity to experience not only the unconditional love of a warm soul but also the chance to learn how to enjoy the little things that makes life so truly special.

Froggy Came A-Courtin'

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 16:58:00 +0000

A rather hideous cold overtook me for about a week and derailed regular posting. Then I spent the rest of the time getting ready for an insane journey to New Orleans. I was only in the city for about 16 hours and most of it was spent sleeping. I can’t help but be disappointed about my first trip to New Orleans, because other than seeing Congo Square I didn’t really have any time to get a very good feel for the things about the city that I have an interest in. Heck, it doesn’t even feel like I was there. It looks like the fiancé and I will be honey mooning there, though.

I can say, though, that I’m happy to be home. Waking up in my own bed and getting back to see my container of radishes thriving was quite nice. The plants that are growing seem to be thriving.

About three weeks ago, the frogs came out of their slumber around my home – Signaling to me that spring really was approaching. I’ve never lived close enough to a body of water that allowed me to experience the arrival of the frogs. Once again, I feel very blessed about where we are currently living. With a creek running about 100 feet away, I am gifted with the Spring Peepers’ singing.

Last night while I was outside, I looked down to see one of my amphibian friends after hearing a strange noise by my feet. As I watched it, it continued to hop repeatedly into my front door as if trying to jump through it. I’m not sure if he was just trying to get away from me, he couldn’t see the giant white door in front of him, or exactly why he was determined to batter himself against something. I’m assuming he was trying to get away from me and panicked, though, because when I stepped back more he calmed for a little while.

Eventually, though, I needed to go back inside. I bent down in hopes of gently picking him up to take out to the yard. No such luck. He took to hopping back into things. I’m a miserable frog catcher, because he was so little, I was afraid to hurt him. I explained to him that there was a cat on the other side of the door that would love to hurt him, and I was just trying to move him to safety. We finally agreed to him hopping along the door until he was away from it with the help of my novice frog-herding skills.

It was a nice welcome home for me. Being the omen-believing girl that I am, I can only assume that it meant something. In modern association, the frog is considered a sacred animal to Hecate. (Note: perhaps ancient association, too, but I’ve not found the actual source of it beyond scholarly assumption that she evolved from Heket in Egypt.) It was determined to get inside my home – Hecate ruling doorways. Message from the goddess I hold so dear? I’m thinking so.

I’ve not meditated on it. Nor do I really plan to on a very formal level. It means something, but I’m trying my hardest not to read what meaning I want into it. Reading over various sources for what Frog means has given me a good foundation of understanding and possibilities…

Healing? Fertility? Self-transformation? Yup, I need some of it all right now, thank you.

Okay, I’ve babbled on a little here. I’m alive and well(ish). I need to get my baking for the week done and catch up with family. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll get written what I’ve promised… Or something.

Oh! And I'm almost at 100 followers! Wow!

Natural Cleaning: Green Housekeeping Kit

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 14:48:00 +0000

With Vernal Equinox around the corner, one way I’m celebrating is by doing the traditional spring cleaning starting with the physical. In my home, we avoid using chemicals as much as possible. While I would like to claim that it’s because we’re green, that part is honestly just an added bonus. The truth is that I’m incredibly sensitive to chlorine bleach and basically any chemical they use in common cleaning compounds.

And, let’s face it; the pre-made natural stuff is expensive. Being thrifty is something I pride myself on, but it’s also necessary for a young couple living on a small amount of money. Blow-by-blow, even with essential oils, you’ll find that using basic natural ingredients cuts costs – I’ve read that it costs so much as 1/10th what regular cleaning supplies cost.

I will note that with natural home cleaning, you’ve got to put a little more elbow grease into some jobs sometimes. The plus side is that you’re probably strengthening something muscle-wise by doing so. At least that’s what I tell myself.

This will be a short series that goes in depth on each item, but today we’re just going to go over building a basic cleaning kit for your home.

So what is in my cleaning kit?

Baking soda – This is hands-down my go-to product for basically any need in the world, including but not limited to home cleaning. It is a great non-abrasive scrubber, deodorizer, and mild detergent. We buy giant boxes of it in bulk because we use so much of it.
White distilled vinegar - The strong smell of this goes away after it dries, so don’t fear the stink. This is used in our house as a dissolver for the most part, but you’ll regularly see me sprinkling baking soda and dumping vinegar on afterwards to break up things like a funky coffee pot. Or anything else I can manage to do this to, because there’s nothing I love more than making things fizz and foam like an elementary school cleaning project.
Lemon – Strongly acidic and a great disinfectant. I buy it in concentrated powdered form when I can find it since it lasts longer.
Essential oils – I try to keep clove and tea tree oil around as much as possible for disinfectant purposes. Lavender is also great for the same reason, but I find I get migraines from it.
Salt – Another great scrubber, especially when added to vinegar or lemon juice.
Soap – We have tended to buy natural liquid all-pupose cleaner in the past by either Simple Green or Method, but next time I will be purchasing castile soap in bulk along with a couple bars of unscented lye soap. The only thing to avoid are soaps with petroleum distillates.
Borax – We don’t use this much at this point, but I keep it around for soldering silver, and it sometimes spills over into housecleaning. I have used it in the past to kill roaches, so I’ve always been cautious of it. However, just last month I read that the Environmental Working Group has deemed it unsafe via Mother Earth News I mention it because it’s something you’ll find commonly in green lists. If you’re concerned about fertility, you’ll want to check out the links and consider all of this for yourself, too. Otherwise, just practice logical caution – Wear gloves and a mask when you have to use borax. And don’t eat it despite your whacky hippie recipes telling you to. Links: Borax Has Issues; You Have Alternatives and Borax: Not the Green Alternative It's Cracked Up to Be
Ethanol or 100 proof alcohol – Not for sipping when you get too stressed out by housework! Okay, maybe a little, but we use it for a disinfectant. I’ve also used it for killing nasties like spider mites on plants. It works double-time for making tinctures. For those living in dry households, you may substitute with isopropyl alcohol.

Optional:

Cornstarch – Great for shampooing carpets and rugs or using to polish furniture.
Washing soda – Some use it for bathroom cleaning and using in their laundry. It can be a strong irritant, so use care. Don’t use it on aluminum.

As a note, Glad Rags is having a giant giveaway and they currently have a coupon for 20% off your purchase on their website – Including sale items. Ladies, if you haven’t made the switch to reusable menstrual products but have been thinking about it or are looking for period-friendly items I suggest you check out this great deal. The coupon code is MOVE11. To get in on their giveaway, you’ll need to visit their Facebook page. I'm admittedly a little disappointed by that, because I'd rather not have random people I went to high school with knowing about my feminine hygiene habits. So I didn't enter, but I figure I'd share for those of you who aren't as inhibited as I am. Haha.

And while you’re on Facebook, check out Ayamanatara who is amazing. She is a multi-denominational shaman. I have had the good fortune of sitting in on one of her classes, and she is truly gifted at her calling. Her Facebok updates are a service on their own, and I find myself pausing when I read them to reflect on what she’s saying.

My First Salve!

noreply@blogger.com (Meganne) — Thu, 03 Mar 2011 05:39:00 +0000

I found an interest in herbalism at an early age, and at thirteen I started actively studying the subject. Save for the occasional infusion, tincture, or compress, I’ve never attempted to make much else. Either I didn’t have the ingredients needed or it just seemed too complicated. So for the most part my studies have been purely academic and theoretical.

This winter, though, has been particularly hard on my fiancé’s hands. The warmer weather hasn’t seemed to do much for them, either. They are chapped to the point where they crack and bleed around the knuckles. When the lotions we have around the house either started not being thick enough for his liking and even when the sensitive healing lotions began to hurt, I knew we needed to turn to something more therapeutic.

I decided he needed a salve. For a while I toyed with trying to find one that I liked the ingredients in for exactly what he needed, but I was afraid that he wouldn’t like the feel of them. Most salves are made with olive oil since the shelf life is higher than a lot of other oils. I’ve always found olive oil to be a little heavy for daytime use on my hands. And, being thrifty, I didn’t want to spend any more money on things he didn’t like.

Amusingly enough, though, I had grapeseed oil and beeswax just sort of sitting around here. Being a foodie and a jewelry artist tends to keep me stocked in things like that. I didn’t have the common herbs for skin woes, but what I did have in my cabinet was a glut of chamomile and marshmallow roots – Both anti-inflammatories and the former having anti-bacterial properties.

I didn’t have a double-burner, so I enlisted the help of a small crockpot that we never use. I set forth with the double-burner and a silicone spatula to create an experimental salve for my sweetheart.

This is how I made it. I’m not adding the herb measurements – Honestly they’re not my first choice and there are a dozen resources out there that will give you better ratios and suggestions than your purely academic herbalist.

I placed my herbs into the crockpot. Measuring out in a 1/2 cup, I started adding grapeseed oil until I had covered up the herbs plus about 3/4 of an inch.
I turned the heat on to Low, put the lid on, and wandered off. Every 15 minutes or so I came back to make sure it wasn’t actually cooking and gave it a good stir.
An hour-and-a-half later I carefully put three layers of cheesecloth in a bowl, and carefully pour the herb and oil mix into it. With tongs, I held the herbs to give it a bit of a squeeze.
I cleaned the remaining herb bits out with another cloth before putting the oil back into the crockpot.
I took my beeswax block and cut it up in pieces. The ratio I used was approximately 1 tsp of beeswax to 1/2 cup of oil. I put the beeswax into the crockpot.
I wandered off again, coming back every 15 minutes to give the oil and wax a stir. It took about an hour for the liquid to become completely clear with no clumps of beeswax left.
Once the liquid was clear, I poured it into some tins that I’d sterilized and completely dried – Getting water in the mixture can cause your oil to go rancid before it normally would.
I wandered off again to let it cool off and solidify.

Awesome. I’d made a rather dreamy salve that softened but wasn’t horrendously greasy in a heavy way. And I think I may be hooked on making it, because it was amazingly easy.