I am literally the worst blogger

But I think that’s okay. I write a lot over here in drafts, and notebooks I take to coffee shops and parks, and random text files open in wordpad.

Usually I start on a topic that’s bothering me, write to the end of my thoughts, get up and walk around, realize something I didn’t understand the first time around, delete most of what I wrote, and start again.

I end the day with a better understanding of that thing for myself, but really not much to post.

So here’s a happy update on what life is like for me:

I went on the spur of the moment and visited my family. I got a ride from my aunt** who lives near me because she was buying fabric at a specialty shop near my mom’s place and bringing her a several-months-late birthday present (they grew up together). I wound up outing myself as a member of an unusual religion in the middle of brunch conversation, and the reception was unexpectedly positive! Mom thinks that my loss of a crappy job is a lucky opportunity to focus on religious stuff. (I really have to apologize for how much I pooped all over her ideas of synchronicity, during my atheist days) I managed to listen to what exactly their assumptions about word meanings (pagan, polytheist, faith) were, and I think I managed to describe what I do pretty well, and also let the conversation flow around and to other things like the way it is absolutely criminal that you can’t get decent beer or cheese in Florida.

After a little bit of badgering on my best friend’s part, I finally invited her to a holiday ritual I’m hosting, and she got Exploring the Northern Tradition from our childhood library — where we sneaked our first peeks into books on tarot and astrology as pre-teens — so she could learn what I’m doing these days. (She’s my sister from another mister, her approval/involvement probably means the most to me)

I got to drop off a package of tea at that friend’s house, shoot a half-dozen hoops with her and her girlfriend, and then went to dinner with my mom and dad at a restaurant owned by other cousins (Grandma’s brother’s daughter and son-in-law). My mom’s been doing a lot of work there – on art and design and advertising – for no money, and that’s been bothering me because the restaurant-owners are more well off than she is. But I clearly need to trust my family because they’re fantastic hard workers who don’t let her pay when she’s there. Also my cousin who is a chef can cook like a motherfucker.

Thank the fucking ancestors, thank the gods of Norwegian immigrants. Things are going well.

** in my family these titles are mushy. This aunt is really a third cousin


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