Witches Dance In Gardens
They say witches dance in gardens.
This makes me laugh every time I read this divisive propaganda. We dance any where we want, but in gardens? Please. Well, not any more. It’s not as if we need to be secretive about our identities. That was in the old days before the government realized they were wasting a commodity. It’s all about money. Most Witches I know don’t care; the recognition is affirming, but not useful. I rather liked not being recognized. It was so much more fun!
The heady herb smell is pouring into the rest of the room and wrapping its arms around me, which is a great sign its working. This is my favorite part. You know that part when the whole house if filled with the sparkly feeling of magic riding on the smell of dandelion, mint, basil and just a touch of lizard? This is the part where it begins to take shape. I can feel tingling all over my skin, sort of like sitting in a tub of soda water. Not that I’ve done that, but I did make a tub of Jell-o for my ex-boyfriend once. Never mind, not the point…
I have been asked to make a Soup of Influence for the banquet tonight. The mayor wants this for his meeting with some county officials. They should have included the description of the soup course in the RSVP. I’d want to know, wouldn’t you? There aren’t any regulations on this appetizer yet. After all, it’s not as if we are serving arsenic any longer.
What are your views on using food spells without the guest’s knowledge? I know in the old days it just made for an interesting evening. Remember that party when you served Kindness Caviar? Who would have thought it would lead to a night like that? Truly shocking! To see people dancing (and doing other things) that would not say hello in passing. That reminds me… Do you remember how to make Consommé au Congeniality? If you have the recipe, could you email it? Not your private recipe, just the one you shared a few years ago that smooths the edges.
I now have that recipe for Sorcery Soap perfected. You know me with my spells, I strive to employ Occam’s razor as often as possible, except when it comes to my secret soap recipe… And, no, you cannot have it. It’s all yours when I walk through the veil, my Enchanted Soap Recipes, my crystal ball, and even my Recipe Book of Light and Shadow, but don’t get any clever ideas before that time or I’ll send my ravens after you!
Truly interesting that we’ve been practicing this form of sorcery for hundreds of years, infusing our soaps and our soups, but only recently has the public at large allowed us to tell our truth. How do we educate that sorcery is contingent on the user? Much like someone using a torch or a flashlight. The creator of the flashlight cannot guarantee what the user will see. Oh, that is just such a big thought, let’s leave that for another time, dear sister.
I should have started this soup sooner, I’ll never make it to the sound studio in time. They are so tolerant, but I hate being late to anything. You know how I am.
Have I told you about the podcast? It’s been so long since we talked… Anyway I’m a celebrity, of sorts, around here. Witches have been asked to preform this public service, well not that it’s politically correct to call us Witches any longer, although a witch is a witch. All registered Gifted have been asked to give PPA’s or “Psychic Public Announcements”. Are you doing that in your area? To think, just fifty years ago a few gifted women were thrown in jail for giving Tarot readings within the San Diego city limits. Ha! Now we’re called Specially Sighted, Gifted and Seer’s by the ERA. I don’t mind Seer at all, but I always prefer what the ancestors were called, witches.
I really goofed last month, Lizzie. You won’t believe it! Some crazed man burst into the sound studio, while we were recording, shouting “I’m gonna kill that Witch! WHERE IS SHE?” all the while waving a shotgun. I had no idea what the consequences would be when I announced a vague description of a possible pregnancy. I figured more than one woman would have a birth mark on her left hip, but well… I was wrong. Or actually I was right, but let’s not split hairs. This guy thought I was talking about his wife, unfortunately he had a vasectomy years ago and she was pregnant. How is that my fault? Obviously, it all turned out fine, I’m still here in this dimension, in physical form so no foul, no harm.
I did have a dream about a car accident last week on highway 280 in front of the car dealership, and turned to be a great public service. I announced it on the podcast. I couldn’t quiet make out those involved, but after I announced the caution warning there weren’t any accidents all day on that stretch of highway. So, vague impression still help.
The soup’s finished! I have to run. I’ll write again soon, but you already knew that!
All my love,
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