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Power surge

Finally, the Powers That Be have nudged events into a forward gear. And we know why that is: last week when Gertie and I went up to do our Wednesday Mercury Wish-Granting spell at the crossroads, we brought two monks, a nun, a caring friend and three dogs to help. Each one of us whispered to the beans our nine-worded wish (Brother Skip even wrote his own, careful to use exactly nine words) and all the rest. We also did a spell to bring rain and before we even left the site, a few drops fell, so I know we were on the right track.

I was so proud of my Catholic entourage, because I had admonished them over and over to limit the giggling (something Gertie and I are forever struggling with) while passing the beans through the incense smoke and etc., and they didn’t even chortle – at least audibly – once. Brother Mike DID later get Gertie laughing so hard, we all agreed she must have peed her pants. I think Gertie, like most of us, had the impression that Catholic Monks tend toward the somber, frowning in general, and especially on unseemly behavior, and so she experienced no small bit of cognitive dissonance when Mike showed up in a red ball cap that said “Beer is Good”, with a flower stuck in one of the ventilation holes and a beer in hand. Then, with one masterful stroke he utterly destroyed any preconcieved notions of how monks should act. I didn’t hear the context in which he said it, but the key phrase was “bat shit”. Somehow, when he said bat shit, Gertie lost it, and didn’t find it again for quite some time. If preconceived notions are to be shattered, I can’t think of a better result than laughter.

So it looks like the spell might have worked. Roger showed up on Sunday, and after three months of practically nothing, all of a sudden, its ACTION! I have to go to town today and open lines of credit at all the shops so that the backhoe can be rented (to be delivered tomorrow…already reserved), the septic tank can be purchased, the materials ordered, and etc. Not only am I pleased that things are moving along, but Roger predicts that it will be done by September, in keeping with my nine-letter wish!

Of course, I really can’t give all the credit to Mercury and the Mighty Dead (much less the Fifth Dentist and his crew, as I’ve been neglecting them). As it happens, I found out that not only were all those Catholics secretly NOT repeating my wish and supplicating the Mighty Dead, they were…what do you think? Praying. Not only that, but Friday night, after both Roger and my plumber Keith stood me up for an afternoon meeting, I went to a barbecue at Sharon and Richard’s, and I was so glum, talking about being disgusted and declaring wanly that it might be best to just send the money back to the bank (as my eyes teared up with Anime-worthy pathos, but it really was just overwhelming allergies, I swear…), that they, also, prayed for me. Even Richard went to church that Sunday. He went to support his wife who had to sing in front of the congregation, but while he was there, he thought he’d give it a go, and prayed for me.

I am honored.  I do wonder, though, that since I’ve escaped notice by prayer in all these years, now that I’ve been prayed for, and I’m officially on the record, as it were, I might be required to behave better. Will Santa get a memo? No more flying under the radar for this heathen.

The only development arising from our meeting yesterday that I’m not happy with is that I’ve been finally forced to accept that, without a structural engineer, my only real choice is to over-build the living daylights out of the house, to be sure that that 173 pounds-per-square-foot roof never comes crashing down (In case you have a hard time understanding how heavy that is, picture Roger, who weighs 210, standing with his feet together. That’s about 210 pounds per square foot. My house’s roof will have upon it 864 Rogers standing shoulder to shoulder). I have no objection to over-building, but it means that I’ll have a forest of support poles inside. I keep cheerily chirping that “its okay, its just another place to put in some pegs and hang your coat!”, but I’d rather have the open space.

On the bright side, part of my design included using the vertical lines between the solar windows to mimic the vertical lines of the forest around me. Now I’ll be bringing the outside right indoors, which might just wind up being the thing that wins me an award for design excellence (as long as none of you rats me out to the selection committe).

In any case, its onward and upward at Casa Jasmina. Or Jasminli Evisi.  Nanuk Nook. Villa Contenta. Dur Yolcu. Putata’s Rest. Suggestions, anyone?


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