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Thu 15 Mar, 2007 06:23 am
My sheets are all washed and I'm ready to dress into character.
Now, where's my filet knife?
Years ago when one of the intimate White House memoirs revealed that Nancy Reagan tried to organize the affairs of the nation around the advice of her astrologer, I thought both of Calpurnia and of Robert Heinlein's fictional fortune teller in Stranger in a Strange Land.
Caesar is dead and gone. I'm honoring Rhea, Greek Goddess of the Earth and an aspect of the Great Mother.
Given the thaw, if you live in a low lying area, you might ask her to keep an eye on the seasonal enthusiasm of river nymphs and the sprites who guard streams.
I lift my teacup to the Ides of March.
river nymphs, were they the ones playing around with Persephone and let her get kidnapped?
Her mom got really pissed.
You can't trust a nymph with anything anymore.
oh, the damn sprites are even worse.
The other day I left some magical bottle caps by the side of a riverlet in the gutter in front of my house, to go talk to my neighbor (a very nice minotaur), and when I came back, they had transformed some of them into dog poop.
Now how am I supposed to trade dog poop for floss for my spindle?
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