Sara Dancer’s father twisted his ankle on Saturday night so Sara stayed home to look after him instead of going to the party. I think this may be an excuse. It’s only an ankle, for God’s sake.
Back in the land of the sexless, there was so much trauma at home last night because of Nan (Sigmund and the Mad Cow are both sleeping on the couch now, which is not exactly an optimum situation) that I forgot all about doing my spell again until I was getting ready for bed. It was raining, so I reckoned it didn’t matter if the moon was full or not. I mean, who’s going to see it anyway? I lit some candles and sat cross-legged on my bed in my underwear so I’d be more in touch with my primitive self. I closed my eyes and REALLY concentrated. At first I had to keep checking to make sure I was saying it right, but after a while I started to get into it. I swear I could feel the Spirit of the Female Goddess filling my room. I started rocking gently back and forth and chanting, “Queen of the Moon … Queen of the Sun … Queen of the Heavens … Queen of the Stars…” (I didn’t plan to do this. It just happened! It was well wicked!!!) I forgot about who I was, and where I was. I was an Aztec maiden or an ancient Druid. I was drifting in the cosmos like a particle of light, unfettered by the chains of the material world. At least I was until Nan screamed, “Praise be to Jesus! It’s the devil’s spawn!” I came back to Earth pretty sharply at that. My first real spell and I had a manifestation! The devil’s spawn! How brilliant can you get? I opened my eyes, shouting, “Where? Where’s the devil’s spawn?” Turns out there wasn’t any manifestation – Nan was actually talking about me! Can you believe it? Her own flesh and blood! I was well disappointed. It took EONS to calm her down (it’s a good thing I wasn’t naked). The Mad Cow put a sign on the bathroom door that says BATHROOM in case Nan gets confused again. I demanded that the lock on my door is fixed, but Sigmund isn’t having it. He gave me twenty excruciatingly boring minutes on why he doesn’t believe in locks (he doesn’t know how to fix them himself and he’s too cheap to pay someone else to do it is why).