Ceridwen’s Cauldron

I have no idea how it took me four hours to clean the kitchen, but it did.

And that’s not counting tidying the cabinets, which I did last week. Or cleaning out the fridge and freezer, which I’ll do on Sunday (Monday being garbage day).

But all the surfaces are clean, and tidy, and organized. I just have to put a few things back in and it’s done. I wanted to get the living room done today too, but that’s just not going to happen. Well…maybe just the vacuuming. And the dusting. It’s hard to stop when I’ve made such a good start, you know.

On the other hand…I’m sitting down now. And there could be tea. Or ice cream. Or both.

Hmm…

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It’s as if my body was waiting for the rain to fall. There is cool air falling in through the front windows, and I can feel the warm apartment air from the past few days being pulled out the back window. It’s very odd.

But rainy days are housecleaning days. I found myself logging off the computer early, before I knew it the bedroom was tidy, the windows open, the laundry on, and the scrub bucket out and ready for some serious cleaning.

And my brain is moving in poetic directions, the creativity flowing, and I had to come back and write a blog post about how it feels like fall might just be here, or coming, and how the rains tell me it’s time to clean out, finally. I’ve been waiting for the mood to hit, since I never clean in the spring. It’s always the fall that I need to reset my life, that I need to clear out the old to make way for new things, to pare down what I have and what I need.

Okay, time to get back to it.

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Says Marilyn:

“”I get blamed for being bad but this kid is practicing witchcraft from a very early age which is totally unacceptable.

Go here for the complete article.

It made me laugh a lot.

The other quote from him I really enjoyed this morning was a more serious one:

“If people think an artist can destroy their faith, then their faith is fragile.”

Which was in a Budapest Times article (another standard article on how he’s a devil-worshipper and his concerts are orgies). Very well-put, Marilyn.

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My current playlist is woefully short, so I’m putting out an open call for recommendations of new artists. Who do you like? What are you listening to?

To narrow the field a bit — I’m big on women vocalists at the moment — Tori Amos and Sarah Harmer are high up on the list. I also like jazz, but I don’t really seek out Rock or Punk.

If you’ve got a recommendation, please leave the type of music you’re recommending in your comment so I know what I’m getting into.

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Which is better –

To throw out boxes of things you haven’t looked at in years, simply because you haven’t looked at them and therefore are getting along just fine without the contents…and potentially throwing out something you’d consider important…

Or to open the boxes, go through them, and deal with the potential guilt associated with not wanting the things they contain, or getting rid of it altogether?

I’m losing my nerve on this cleaning things. That last cupboard contained wedding gifts that I haven’t looked at since the wedding. Some of it is very nice table linens and things, which I’ll be keeping. And then there are things that…while beautiful…I may never use…

If I had a dining room and someplace to display them, they might be used…

…but I really don’t need the clutter….

…but it’s beautiful, and was a gift….

Argh.

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Just took Miho to the vet to get her stitches out. The vet is about a 10 minute walk away, which is ideal, as it means it’s not far to go with the cats in their carriers. It’s also a really nice office — the staff are all very friendly and call to check up on the cats after surgery and the like.

Today, I walked into the vet’s office with Miho in tow. She doesn’t like being in the box, but she’s less whiny than Tybalt who acts as if he’s being stabbed with pointy things while he’s in there. But when we got in to see the technician (about a minute after coming through the door) she didn’t want to get out of the box. The tech tipped it on its end and out crawled the cat, looking chagrined.

The technician had me hold Miho’s front paws up while she snipped out the stitches — which took about 30 seconds. Miho hardly even squirmed. Then I put Miho down and she crawled right back into the box, and I brought her home.

Total time? Even including the walk I was gone less than twenty minutes. And as soon as I opened the carrier at home, out crawled Miho, who then gave me a sob story about how she’d been locked up for DAYS and with NO ONE to love her, and you never FEED me.

Nice to know she’s fine.

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I have several blog entries floating around in my head and yet when I sit down to write them, the words skitter away. Everything I put down seems colourless, unimportant, not the thoughtful, possibly interesting thing I thought it might be. Here’s what I’m trying to say:

I bought beads yesterday for a craft project I’m doing with friends. I spent a lovely hour at the bead store hemming and hawing over various choices of colour and shape and size. I selected my beads and took them to the cash register. This is the difficult part of beading. I mean, you spend all this time looking at the beads and picking them out, and then they fire them into a tiny little plastic bag and hand them to you and you think “That’s it? That’s all? I spent my last hour on something that doesn’t fill a sandwich baggie?”

And then they tell you the price, and it makes it even worse. (And I wasn’t buying expensive beads, either!)

And now we actually have to schedule a time for our bead-stringing project quick, ’cause I’ve got the materials for a craft project I’m excited about in my house, and that means I want to do it RIGHT NOW!

…

So there. That’s what’s been wandering around in my brain. I just had to attack it and wrestle it into written form when the other part of my brain wasn’t looking.

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Cross-stitch patterns and some craft stuff for anyone that cross-stitches or is interested in starting.

Also lots of clothes, women’s size 12 mostly, some smaller, mostly stuff that still fits me but that I just don’t wear. There are some nice pairs of pants in there. Leave a comment or e-mail if you’d like to look through it.

I found my high school diploma. They spelled my name wrong. I’d forgotten that. Or maybe I just didn’t graduate at all. Also possible, though the university degrees on my wall indicate that it is unlikely.

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I remember someone out there saying they wouldn’t mind a nice set of mugs. Who was it? ‘Cause I’ve got a set here that’s all yours, nice big ones, plus one or two just assorted mugs. I have a cupboard full of all the mugs I’ll ever need.

Bookshelf highlights include:

Tad Williams, Otherland, paperback volumes 1-3 (Good books, but I have ‘em in hardcover)
Hardcover book club editions of the Elric books by Michael Moorcock.
Lavondyss by Robert Holdstock
Fall on Your Knees by Anne Marie MacDonald (read it, liked it, will never read it again.)
Les Miserables by Victor Hugo, Volumes 1-3 in french.

I can probably cull some more, but I’m experiencing guilt over all the fiction books I’ve been given over the years that I’ve never touched, that I feel I should read at some point.

And the tea cupboard has been mercilessly pruned. It pains me to see the boxes of tea I’ve bought over the years and never drank.

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This is the new goal. It can be a blog post, it can be a diary entry, it can be a story, whatever. But I will write something every day.

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