Yesterday, I sat out to do N through R on part two of "The Black Alphabet." But the words came very, very slowly. Though I wrote until six p.m., I only made it through P. And really that was it for work yesterday. Three letters of the alphabet, 1,012 words, which required a full day. To that end, I found myself reading Pausanias, and articles on serotonin and dopamine, and the hydrocarbon dunes of Titan, and Solomon J. Solomon, and poppies and SROLED. And heroin. It was a day of diverse investigations.
I think this is going to be a shortish entry, which, considering that yesterday's was so long, will doubtless promote balance and make the Cosmos happy. Tra la la.
Last night, Spooky cooked spaghetti with red peppers. I did some work with the Ogham, which I've been neglecting. We read Chapter 11 of The Triumph of the Moon, which is entirely devoted to the problem of Gerald Gardner. It included the following lines, which should be stapled to the forehead of everyone who considers herhimitself a neo-pagan and/or witch (yes, myself included): There is a real danger that as modern witches acquire more knowledge of their history without all of them also acquiring a greater sense of historical relativism, then the misinformation is only going to become more sophisticated. (p. 215) Yes, indeed. A thousand times yes.
Sophie's been a little under the weather. Yesterday, Spooky took her to the vet. We were worried, but it's only a bladder infection, and now she has three weeks of antibiotics ahead of her. It's been just slightly over a year since the illness we thought she wouldn't survive, a year of insulin, and she's still going.
I'm still watching Monday's Tales from the Woeful Platypus poll. If you're a subscriber, please vote. I'm very pleased that so many people have voted for "Pony." Okay. Time to make the doughnuts. Again. Here I go. Q is for...