Friday, September 04, 2009
Full Moon Fever
I've always hated owls and most birds give me the creeps because they fly in your house and steal your soul. Most people are afraid of becoming their mother; I have become my great grandmother. Seriously. She used to throw my one stuffed animal out of our bed (we slept together when I was young because the house didn't have enough rooms), a sweet precursor to Baby Grouchie, a green monster with a yellow felt crown, because he had "bacterias on his head." He'd land Omen-like, impaled on the magazine rack where she stored her National Enquirers. This was back in the day when the Enquirer had great stories like a boy that had ears like a bat (Bat Boy Lives!) instead of stars and their cellulite. Not that stars and their cellulite isn't a great guilty delight, but let's face it, it can't hold a candle to doctored pictures of ordinary people posing as freaks of nature.
Last night, a friend of mine who loves owls and wears them all the time, told me that owls come to you at dark points in your life and lead you out. I started to like them a little more. That sounded good, an animal who comes to you to help you navigate the rough times. I think of life as kind of a constant darkness where you get glimpses of the light to help you along until you make it to the next stop, the next full moon. I've always liked full mooons, the blackness illuminated before it smothers you whole.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Be faithful in small things because in them therein your strength lies." Mother Teresa
Driking cocktail suggestion: Baby Grouchie posed last night in a martini glass (picture soon) to make a Grouchietini. Will post his delightful antics soon.
Benedictions and Maledictions