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It may not be Eye of Newt, but it works.

As you know I’ve been squirming and whining for a month now, since no work on the house can procede before the excavation gets done. All the excavators in the world, it seems, are feverishly busy. Any of you who have children, steer them to the career path of Excavation. Its a seller’s market. The first guy didn’t return my calls, and the second did, but then his schedule got pushed back by all that snow and rain (work on the ark is currently suspended, but not abandoned altogether), and I was giving him weekly calls to bug him. I even threatened to rat on him to Santa, and ruin his Christmas. That got him to finally call me back, just to say that he’d referred me to yet another excavator guy. That guy called the next morning (yay!) but then that was the last I heard from him. After a few more pestering calls to him he said he was at least a month out. So I called the first guy again, and miracle of miracles, he came out the next day to look over the job, and has promised to be here Saturday. Phew!

Now, I’m not entirely sure which of the efforts I set in motion to attract an excavator guy finally succeeded. I had Saint Neutrino, Saint Mel, Saint Asp and all the rest working on my behalf, as well as my indispensible friend Scott cajoling the contractors left and right, and, of course,  I was also casting those spells. Frankly, I think that was what did it. Every Wednesday without fail Gertie and I have been walking up to the crossroads with our nine beans, oregano incense and all the rest and dutifully calling on the underworld for aid. We follow the instructions carefully, but I’m not sure if giggling sort of neutralizes the power of the spell. Gertie, especially, can’t help but giggle each time we stamp the ground three times to get the attention of the Mighty Dead. I’ve tried to talk to her about the power of the mind, and how we can create our own realities if we sincerely put our minds, affirmations, prayers or any other technique to it, but I think she can’t help picturing the looks on the faces of the people she knows, if they saw us, and it just gets her glee up. And then I start giggling too, and its hard to maintain an ernest tone to my entreaty. I mean, it says right there in the instructions that you’re supposed to repeat your request solemly to the beans, so I’m not at all sure that giggling wouldn’t cause the Mighty Dead to turn on their heels in a huff right there and then.

Today, I promise we will behave as properly as possible, since I’m pretty sure this spell stuff is working. Witness the fact that I have a highly interested buyer for my house. They haven’t made an offer yet, but I’m pretty sure they will. I was walking down the road the other day, and saw these people peeking in the windows of a house for sale. Naturally, I stopped and told them that my house was also for sale, so they came to take a look. I had followed the spell instructions to the letter, so when they crossed my threshold, they had to step over the magic chunk, and I  just know that put them in a buying mood. It didn’t hurt that they really want a second home in Neihart, and that my house is much more reasonably priced than the other houses currently for sale here, with a bigger, better garage (what self-respecting house in Montana has a garage that isn’t bigger than the house?), and heat-taped pipes, but I still say the green candle burning and chunk-burying had something to do with it. Anyone who says different should just be aware that I have  cayenne pepper, tumbleweed, ginger and a few other ingredients at home, and I know how to use them.


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