gansje: (Me)
Whoops... I somehow, without knowing I was doing it, hit edit while looking through my journal to see if I'd written about something, and I managed to repost an old entry.  Please ignore!  My trackpad is extra sensitive, it seems!
gansje: (Me)
My Lawrence is finally home for a few days from roaming the earth and going back and forth within it.  He's lying on the sofa opposite me, stretched out, also writing an LJ.  We're mirror images of each other. He's had a terribly hard time of it with all the travel he's doing, and it's not over yet.  He still has a trip coming up this weekend, and then he's going to have to go away again at least once more before the end of the month, and then again in January to New Orleans.  I'm hoping very much to go with him on that trip as I've missed the last several either for work or childcare, but we're not sure we dare leave the kids with their mother for a few days while I come along.  I also may no longer be sentient after this quarter ends, having been informed today that I'm somehow to fit two months worth of what would ordinarily be intense and non-stop work into the next three weeks.  Yeah, no biggie.  Why not.

We're listening to the Mountain Goats, incidentally.  We are going to make it through this year if it kills us.

One nice thing -- my sociolinguistics workshops are being met with great enthusiasm.  I'm pondering the possibility of striking out on my own to do management communication consulting.  I would probably have to work just as hard, if not harder, though, and that's really just not acceptable.  As it is, I'm exhausted.  But of all crazy things, I love the public speaking part of my job as much as I love the research.  Meh, I'd miss the research, though.  I live for it and all.

L's finished his post, so I'll quit blathering in mine.  It would have gone somewhere, honest, but I do want to spend a little time with him again before he disappears on a plane or drives off again, leaving me in the house wishing he were next to me just a little longer, just a little while more.
gansje: (Default)

Well, knock me over with a piece of red flannel:

Melusine Oil, Voodoo, Hoodoo, love, Mate, Attract, Protection, Shield, Pagan, Wiccan

As far as I know, there is no syncretism between French/Breton mythology and Hoodoo, but hey, I haven't been in the game for a while. And when you're dabbling in other people's significant cultural meanings and signs, why not just grab a little from exotic here and toss it in with a bit of exotic there? While you're at it, mix up Voudoun, Hoodoo and Rootwork.  Why the hell not?

I was playing around on Etsy when I found this.  Whoa.  I didn't realize Etsy was such a rich source for Conjure craft, but it is. 
Thing is, this isn't Hoodoo.  This is... I don't know what it is.  Not that I have anything against the Melusina, mind you -- she's my alter ego after a fashion.  Just, her Gallic self doesn't belong in a bottle purporting to be a "cure" associated with a coherent, rich Bakongo medico-religious system. 

Now I don't know whether to write about Bakongo cosmology, Hoodoo and its difference from Voudoun, the difference between Hoodoo/Conjure and Rootwork, or the Melusine myth.  Any preferences, guys?  You tell me, I'll write it and totally geek out while I do.
gansje: (Default)
There have been all these posts I've wanted to write, but haven't had time, what with work and kids and Jewish holidays and consulting and entertaining (or failing to entertain, as our dinner plans for this evening fell through).  I was going to be all anthropologicially intellectual and stuff, sounding off about ritual and transformation, but what's consuming me instead is this kickboxing class I just signed up for.  I am so excited; I'm going to learn to beat the shit out of a punching bag.  How awesome is that?

I've wanted to get into kickboxing for something like ten, twelve years -- ever since my friend Mo asked me to take classes with him.  I was very much intrigued (not least by the idea of actually getting to move around and lose some weight) but also very much saddled with an extremely grumpy toddler and a husband who didn't like me doing anything that didn't involve him, and he'd determine what we did, thank you very much.  So kickboxing?  Not so much back then, yeah.  But the idea has stuck with me, and was revived when I was looking for fun stuff for L and me to do together, and saw kickboxing advertised in a spring flyer for adult education at the local high school.  At the time I didn't sign up because L is positively obsessed with bridge and they also had a bridge class, and the whole point of taking classes was to do something together, and kickboxing is kind of not a guy thing, as I'm coming to see.  Also, the administration shoves all physical education classes into the same two gyms, and after past experience I know better than to try to learn a physical activity in a large auditorium full of other groups of people trying to learn completely different activities.  Any direction your instructor gives you rebounds off the walls and ceiling, as do other instructors' directions. You know how you hear an emergency siren when you're driving, but you have no idea where it's coming from?  Yeah, it ends up being like that.  So no kickboxing last spring.

But two days ago, I opened my "junk" email client -- the one I use for groupons and other assorted ads I kinda want but kinda actually don't -- and there it was, right at the top, a groupon for kickboxing!  10 classes for $20, at a real boxing gym nearby. A real boxing gym!  With real coaches who'll scream bloody hell at me and not let me say, "oh, I just can't do it, let me rest a moment."  And real gloves, which will be quite cool to try on (I surprise myself with this last -- boxing has never been a sport that I've glorified in the least.  I think it's awful, really, making a sport out of two men beating each other senseless. But honestly, how cool are those little red girl boxing gloves?)

So I am very excited. Mondays the kids are usually with their mother (god help us all), so I called and scheduled classes for Monday nights at 8 pm.  That will give L a little time to write or at least to look for his research materials for the article he'd like to work on, or just time to comment on everyone's LJ or whatever the man wants to get up to while I'm punching away at a bag hanging from a ceiling.

And yeah, I do realize that my next post will be a complaint about how I can't move parts of my body I didn't know I had.  Yeah. 
gansje: (Default)
I love working from bed and looking at all the green outside my window.  My house is on the base of a hill and so my bedroom window overlooks the neighbors' yards.  The neighbor just above me has a little cedar shed with a white cupola on top of it and red roses and purple clematis climbing its walls. My own yard has a tree with gorgeous pink flowers I used to know the name of but can't remember now (something like false roses), and so those get added to the visual mix.  It's just lush and gorgeous.  I am so happy with my little house!
gansje: (Default)
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I would let him sleep and simply whisper everything I wanted to say against his shoulder.
gansje: (Default)
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"Voice in My Throat" - Pearl and the Beard
gansje: (Default)
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Dry, over ice, with a twist.


gansje: (Default)

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