Ritual Of The Black Snake

I've been so slow about blogging...fatigue again...but I did want to post this before July is entirely over.

On the fourth, we went out to buy fireworks from the stand at the edge of town. We bought a small collection of sparkly whizzy things for the older boys, but I also bought a handful of black snakes. Partly this was so the youngest would have something non-noisy to enjoy, but also because I have fond memories of them myself. They were maybe 12 for a dollar, anyway.

Early in the evening, about 7 0'clock, I snuck outside to light one by myself. I suppose my inner child wanted a little privacy, the secret glee of creating fire and smoke. I put it down on the driveway, lit the punk stick and lit the black snake. 

As I was kneeling over the flames watching the snake unfurl, the neighbors drove by. So much for privacy. But the looks on their faces was priceless. They clearly thought I must be partaking of a strange and arcane ritual there on the dusty gravel. They looked intrigued and slightly alarmed at the same time. 

But the funny thing was, I had begun to feel the same way myself. It was unexpected, but I swear I suddenly felt a Presence. It was a friendly Presence, but a Presence (disembodied, non-corporeal, possibly holy) nonetheless.

Maybe this kind of thing has happened to you, maybe it hasn't, but in this case, it was special kind of coziness, a tranquility in the evening air. It was what they call the golden hour, so maybe this helped, but the world around me took on a luminescence, and I was sure I was no longer alone. 

After the black snake had burnt itself out, I stuck the end of the punk stick in the gravel and watched it glow. The feeling stayed with me for a while. I thought about the fire deities and elemental spirits throughout many ages and cultures. I wondered if one of them had kindly paid me a visit. 

When it was over, I put out the smoldering stick and went to enjoy the holiday with the rest of the family. It was nice to see them having such fun. But for me, that small moment in the driveway is so far my favorite memory of the Summer. 

A little transcendence will liven up any holiday.

Note: I seriously doubt it was fumes from the firework causing me to hallucinate or anything like that, as we used up the rest of the black snakes without any additional weirdness.

Igneous The Troll's All Night Pottery Shop

This post combines two disparate facts:
1. There is a PS1 game based on the Discworld novels.

2. My brother is living in our carport.

The game is of the point-and-click variety, complicated and frustrating but nice to look at. My husband and I played it all through the summer of 2000.

In it, the city of Ankh-Morpork has been beset by a dragon, and your character, Rincewind, has to deal with it. As is typical, the player gathers items and completes certain tasks before moving on to the next bit. It's clever and funny, and there are many things to do.

Most of the game takes place during the day, but there are sections in which Rincewind has to go out at night. There generally isn't much going on in Ankh-Morpork during these late jaunts. Depending on what part of the game you're on, you can wander into bedrooms or you can try to get into the Broken Drum without getting bounced by the door troll.

There is occasionally a back room or alley that seems promising, but on the whole, nighttime is one of those situations where you have limited options and little guidance. Needless to say, I spent much time wandering around the darkened Ankh-Morpork at a loss.

Eventually, after doing an arcane combination of things, you come upon a little shop on the corner. Inside, a troll is humming away at his pottery wheel. The sign reads "Igneous the troll's all night pottery shop."

 You have to take one of his pots.

He's not necessarily happy to see you, although he won't thump you if you're polite. When you leave, he cheerfully resumes his work. The game continues on at length, but this is the part that really stuck in my mind.

It's probably not too hard to imagine how much the concept of this shop appealed to me. As a person who's most alert in the wee hours and is most creative then, the thought of an all-night pottery shop seems like the best thing ever. When you spend many lonely hours wondering if any other soul is awake, you are glad to spot one of your own. Basically, that troll has my dream-job.

The image has stayed with me all these years. The rest of the game is good fun, of course, but the all-night pottery shop was special. I hadn't thought about it for quite some time though.

What brought it to mind again was disparate fact #2.

Since my brother and his wife split up (no great tragedy, really, they've been off and on again for ages) he's been staying here. It's not because he can't afford his own place, mind you. There's two things you should understand about my brother above all else - he's weird and he's cheap.

He also finds the rest of us annoying, so he's taken to camping out in the carport. Really. He's got a couch and a lamp and his books. In fact, he's out there right now - I could see his 44oz. Big Gulp soda outlined on his side table. Yes, he even has a side table. I'm sure he intends to make hay with his lawyers about how he's been reduced to living in a carport, but make no mistake, he's quite pleased with himself.

Well, the other night, it occurred to me that I should be annoyed with my brother, lurking out there every night when he's perfectly free to come indoors. However, upon thinking about it, I realized I wasn't. Seeing the carport lit up like a beacon, his dim silhouette busy with his iPhone, put me in the mind of something.

Oh yes, it was Igneous the troll.

There's something about the thought of having your own on-site troll that's oddly comforting.

Thinking about getting him a pottery wheel.

A Walk In The Woods

It was one of those days, when strange shapes and mysterious figures seemed to lurk at every turn.

The Hand of Fate

On the first day of Summer, we went to the park, My youngest reached down into the grass and said, "I found something for you, mommy!" It was a bracelet festooned with lucky charms. We asked around, but it didn't seem to belong to anyone. We decided it must be fate, so I've worn it ever since.