The Purpose-Driven Blog
Just now I opened my email, and there was a note from an educator, wanting to post something about guidance counselors on my blog.
Egads! Am I drifting off topic, or what?
This blog is for Holy Higher-Ups who don't get a podium at national political conventions! It's for the gods who got sent packing by "In God We Trust." Pagan, Neo-Pagan, Animist, Psychic, Nature, even the Flying Spaghetti Monster and Elvis! Enough about teaching, already! Dull topic, unless you're Socrates. Or Henry Higgins.
COMPLETE POWER FAILURE
Last night we had severe weather in the area, remnants of Hurricane Isaac. The storms and heavy rain rumbled through all day and into the evening.
It wasn't even raining outside, but all of a sudden our whole neighborhood lost power. My over-lit, over-air conditioned house was plunged into blackness. (I admit I could do a better job of energy conservation. I am working on it.)
When I say black, I mean nearly total, blinding black. I was standing in the kitchen, and ... blip! Dark.
My daughter The Spare teases me about the way I buy candles. Send me into a store, and if you want to find me, look for the candles. I get most of my candles at the thrift store, but never mind the source of purchase: I buy and burn a lot of candles.
Therefore, in the total darkness of an electricity-free kitchen, I was able to grope my way to the matches and to a pair of tapers in about 30 seconds. Less than a minute later, the shrine candle came into use. And if I had been diligent in my praise and worship of Queen Brighid the Bright, there never would have been darkness to begin with! Her altar was between candles, and I forgot to light a new one.
Public service reminder to followers of the bored gods: Keep your altar candles up to date. Don't burn them where you can't see them, but do kindle that fire. One of these days, all the fancy power plants might be rendered useless, and in that case you will like having fire at your fingertips.
Speaking of fingertips, my Decibel is still having trouble with her wing. She has adapted to the bird collar, but she's not as sassy as usual, by far. I may need to give her a whole new name. How do you like "Crackers?"