Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where every day is a holy day! Count them off, because they're finite. Each one should be sacred.
I spent yesterday on the shore of the Severn River (a little piece of the Chesapeake Bay). I found myself sitting there with a big ol' case of the blues, cursing each grain of sand that once was a part of the Appalachian Mountain chain and is now mired in the land where the water runs uphill. Like me.
Wait. This is "The Gods Are Bored!" We don't moan and wring our hands. It's boring.
It's sunny outside and a balmy 92 degrees. Time to make a back yard shrine! I've got bricks aplenty, half buried under aggressive mugwort.
Please pardon the brevity of this post, as I'm keen to go out and get sunstroke while the getting is good. I also have a few leftover hard crabs to crack and pick -- a decidedly un-Appalachian chore.
Applications are now being accepted for bored deities who wish to be honored at my shrine. Your input is welcome. I can only pick one. Is it bad form to make an outdoor shrine to the same Goddess who is honored at your indoor shrine?
Great is my faithfulness ... emmm ... something like that.