sleeping wolf

This past Saturday, J~, M~, and I celebrated Imbolc, ADF-style. It did take a bit of advance planning, starting about a month ago. J~ was responsible for writing the ritual and hosting it. M~ was responsible for ensuring a lack of conflicts with the local college group. I was responsible for some limited publicity, as we were willing to share our first efforts in this format with people we already knew.

On the second of February, which some might see as Imbolc proper, as I arrived at work in the morning I felt a certain difference in the air. Rather than rushing inside as usual, I looked around, and noticed a large fallen branch beneath one of the trees surrounding the building. Approaching more closely, I spotted a part of the fallen branch perfect for use as a bilé. Offering thanks, I carefully detached it and placed it in my car.

On Saturday, I began gathering items into a bag so that I would not forget them. I grabbed candles in case J~ had forgotten them. I found a smudge stick for M~ in case he forgot incense. I also put a bottle of microbrewed ale, the ritual script, a white tunic, and my robe into the bag. After loading the bag and a folding cafe-style table into my car, I picked up M~ before heading to J~'s home.

At J~'s place, we began setting up when I realized the flaw in placing items in a bag was that some items that didn't fit might be left behind, namely the bilé I had picked up. I sighed at my absent-mindedness and began locating a substitute when J~ pointed out she had a small potted pine tree that would work. We set up and quickly rehearsed the ritual before the promised start time. Then, we passed the time until the ritual start by making final preparations, and I put the new robe I had made on.

After offering fifteen minutes to Pagan Standard Time, we started the ritual in earnest. Splitting up the parts meant that each of the three of us were well-involved in the rite. I was surprised by the energy of the rite; it felt more direct than the two other ADF-style rites I'd attended. This probably follows from this being the rite I've been most directly involved in to date, though part of me feels that the microbrewed ale we used for a number of offerings was found particularly appealing; it was described as good afterwards by the participants. The three-card Omen that J~ drew from her Tarot deck was rather positive, though not having written it down immediately afterward has caused parts of it to blur. If I recall correctly, the cards drawn were the King of Wands, Nine of Pentacles, and Six of Wands, with a meaning towards rewarded effort and early success.

Afterwards, we reflected on the rite while waiting for the post-ritual pizza to arrive. Overall, we were satisfied. There was some weakness on the speaking side that probably would be remedied by even more practice; given the time frames involved to prepare our parts, everyone did a good job. I'd also like to move to a more appropriate divination method, which means that I ought to focus a bit on such. Further reflection has caused me to realize that I think I'd like some more active group chanting and/or singing; fortunately, the ADF website has resources for members who don't know the tune quite yet.

(ADF members informally commenting on the above's suitability for the Dedicant Program would be appreciated.)

"You couldn't sell the very popular 1972 diet book Dr. Atkins' Diet Revolution today. Dr. Atkins recommended an unlimited consumption of saturated fats and cholesterol-rich foods. As long as you didn't take in any carbohydrates, you could eat as much fat as you wanted and still lose weight! It does sound yummy, but most people know better now." [All emphasis original]
Hoff, Al. Thrift Score, p.128. New York: HarperCollins, 1997.

Well, much of work today involved recovering from a rootkit that was linked against the wrong shared library versions for the box it was dropped on.

We won't talk about how the port was open in the first place.

Also, a happy belated birthday to azurezephyr and edaja. Their birthdays were before the weekend, so I should have known better.

Hopefully more on the lovely ADF-style Imbolc rite that was held this weekend -- and my first machine sewing project, the robe for it -- later.

My previous post has been sitting half-written for nearly a week now. I couldn't get it to close properly, but today it occurred to me to utterly rearrange the pieces, at which point it all fell together. It was a shame it took so long to put together, as I have this thing about not posting something when there is a partial post waiting to be finished.

That having been said, the other day I came upon an interesting model of the three types of people you find in any endeavor; the names and many of the examples are somewhat subculture-specific, but the author, bradhicks, claims it is universal. Since it is a model, it is by definition a Lie, but there is useful insight to be gleaned from it. The model splits people within a group into the Dream Nazis, the Authenticity Police, and the Fun Mavens. There is also a later post attempting to clarify things, which points out that in different groups one often takes on a different role. While I would undoubtedly use somewhat different names if I had come up with the theory myself, anyone with a passing familiarity with the SCA will understand why the terms are as they are.

Back when I posted about how my Paganism and Real Life touch, sunnydale47 indicated that she disagreed that I was environmentally inclined because I was Pagan. I replied that I wasn't.

It's because I'm an engineer.

( Explanation of my non-sequitur )

It's good to be the king.

Happy Birthday, thesammy!

Happy Birthday, woofiegrrl!

If you and I were alone in my room right now, what would we be doing?
(Now post this in YOUR LJ (if you so desire), and see what people want do with you)

In the interest of trying new things, Steph and I picked up a leaf from the unusual produce section at a grocery store. It's about two feet long, with spikes on the sides. The cashier didn't know what it was, and instead of a computer code number there was only a price on it. Can you identify this leaf?

( Pictures cut because I care )

Happy Birthday daveqat!

Have a Miscarriage, Go to JAIL? (dailykos, via wytchchyld)

Apparently, a Virginia legislator claims this is the best way to "reduce the number of 'trashcan' babies that are born and then abandoned in trashcans, toilets, or elsewhere to die from exposure or worse." While his stated motives sound noble, with the loose wording he's used, all sorts of reporting needs to happen. A woman would need to report a missed period followed by a period. (I guess some of the female Olympic athletes won't be visiting Virginia while training) Even a regular period, post PIV sex, as no birth control is 100% perfect and undetectable miscarriages happen very often in the early stages of pregnancy. I somehow think that Virginia police departments have better things to do than take down all these reports.

This is not to mention that the point at which the fetus can breathe on its own — 28 weeks — is beyond the point where reporting is mandated by law.

I also can't help but think of the News Of The Weird story where a paramedic crew rushed what was thought to be an abandoned fetus put in a plastic bag and left in a dumpster to a hospital only to find out it was a bag of spaghetti.

First off, happy belated birthday to danicia, who always has such nice happy birthday posts.

Secondly, I'm not even close to caught up. It'll be a bit, probably; work piles up over the holidays, too. If you have something you are desperate for me to read, point me at it below.

Thirdly, the most bizarre present I received, and I am not making this up, was Tortures and Torments of the Christian Martyrs: The Classic Martyrology.

Tuesday evening and Wednesday were taken up with a 25-hour business trip. Drive a bit under four hours to White Plains, NY, stay at a hotel, and then get up bright and early the next morning to visit a plane and investigate some problem reports. The trip was at least partially successful, and I finally figured out how to enter in a destination to the Airshow box on the plane; the missing piece of information, which I think I picked up from Livejournal, was that international airport codes are four letters long, and so I needed to add the letter K before a US airport code.

But the most interesting part was that I got to drive the rental van full of test equipment out onto the tarmac.

I was only driving about a hundred yards out there, but I was nervous; I'd really rather not see my name in reports of even a minor airport mishap due to inattention or not knowing the proper procedure for driving on the tarmac. My coworkers making jokes that I'd damage the airplane to keep from having to work on it again didn't help my mood.

But after the van was inspected and I was cleared to drive out there, there really wasn't a choice in the matter. I pulled through the first gate, and then through the second, and found myself before a sign labeled "STOP and wait for instructions". I sat there for about thirty seconds before someone noticed me and waved me out. I drove out and parked next to the stairs up to the airplane.

It's notable that a good deal of fear comes from uncertainty. I was much more afraid of getting stung by wasps before Steph showed me that they really don't get upset unless you anger them. Now I think it's silly when someone, afraid of getting stung, flails their body at the approach of an insect.

This was much the same way.

Happy (early) birthday, elfarrow!

According to Yahoo, Pale Male has been evicted. While Red Tailed Hawks are not endangered, I suspect they've just made a big mistake with respect to the Migratory Bird Treaty.

Update: I suppose it might have helped if I had looked at Pale Male's webpage, where it is revealed that the building owners are claiming the nest was unused while birdwatchers disagree.

I haven't really posted about visiting relatives and in-laws for Thanksgiving because most of it is stunningly mundane. I did note one thing, after the fact when I caught up on everyone's entries: the only two things I thought about being thankful for on Thanksgiving was getting my father's computer into a functional state and the day being over. Thanksgiving dinner was at Steph's parents' house, and we helped out as we have in the past. It strikes me the celebration as conducted was more about the big meal and seeing relatives than the concept of being thankful.

The company Holiday Party was on Friday. They can't seem to decide if it's a Christmas party or a Holiday party; last year it was definitely listed as the latter, perhaps because the company president became aware of my beliefs. I can't say I care, either way. The imagery is stock secular Christmas; lots of trees, no manger scenes.

Anyhow, the food was excellent; it was catered by Chef Harrison's catering outfit. Even though it was nifty to have the master chef carving our prime rib, I think I liked some of the less fatty beef cuts that were served in a heater dish during previous parties. Despite my typical need to have a taste of everything, I held back a bit this year and was thankful I had done so. The appetizers ranged from hummus to spicy chicken, and the meal included noodles with hot peppers, asparagus, corn, mashed potatoes, and a choice of turkey or prime rib. Between dinner and dessert Steph and I walked to all the tables offering our blueberry and peach wines for sampling. Many people were enthusiastic about the wine, and apparently one spouse absconded with the third bottle of blueberry wine we brought.

There were other interesting alcohols, too; unlike last year, this year's beer selection was high-end. We had a keg of Spring

After the food (and some updates from the company president), a pair of DJs set up. They appeared to be from the school that holds that if a given level of volume is good, even louder is even better. Before they drove Steph and others away, I was given the opportunity to sing a parody about my trips to Germany. It was surprisingly well received; I'm not often told that I sing well. Part of my problem is that my normal singing range tends towards the bass end, which often makes it hard to sing along with the radio or to many popular tunes.

After a break in our room at the lodge, I asked around a little bit if anyone wanted Tarot readings. A few people did, and I was able to giving readings to a couple of them before I was too tired to continue. A good night's rest at the lodge followed, leading into breakfast and a new day.

Happy belated birthday, childofchaos!

Happy Belated Birthday, kmusser!

Happy birthday phoenix_glow!