A Face To Die For

 

I've always been partial to the story of Medusa, a beautiful woman who became punished for her beauty and subsequently turned men into stone, snakes for hair, a face to die for.  Even with her head lopped off, she had power to harm, to turn that which she touched into coral.  It's a tale of jealousy and sadness, not unlike another M story, that of Medea -- giver of the poison dress and tiara to her romantic rival which killed whomever wore or touched them. Of course, she also murdered her children to hurt her husband which doesn't elicit much sympathy, the first Andrea Yates or Susan Smith, a long line of women who did the unspeakable because of illness or love.

Jealousy is a hard emotion to own (as certain douchebags say in the parlance of the day).  Nobody wants to run around saying, I'm a jealous person who feels deeply pissed off that other people have it better.  But I love to hear stories about the occasional crazy-making moment, the sharing of which always makes you feel a bit better.  Many of my female friends date men who have a female "best friend."  Inevitably, this person has a name like a bell, a face like an angel, and they are as close as brother and sister with no sexual tension whatsoever.  Umm, okay.  But we have some laughs over it and toast to their long platonic friendship.  A lot of Halloweens I've chose to dress as Medusa.  I'd rather wear the snakes than the poison dress and tiara and have it rot me as I twirl around pretending all is well.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
"I choose a block of marble and chop off whatever I don't need." August Rodin

Cocktail Hour
Drinking hangover prevention suggestion: Vitamin Water by the gallon (especially Focus and Revive)

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Wednesday!