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My sister's wedding is a month and a half away. And what am I most worried about?

The tattoo thing. Well, not so worried but Trying to figure out what I'll tell people when they ask. And they will ask. Dress has a low-cut back, and my family arenot the sort of people to ignore stuff scrawled across a family member's flesh. My stepfather will comment. Loudly and frequently. He had (to take a phrase from my mom) ten French fits when he saw my first one...six months after I got it. And that's not much bigger than a silver dollar. Uncle Randy will make all kinds of comments about it being some sort of Satanic spell. Samantha will announce to the world that she wants one just like it (along with pink hair). Mumsie will demand to know what it means. And while the truth is easy, simple and makes perfect sense it will raise more questions than Ill feel like discussing that weekend. (Yeah Mom...it's a hymn to this god that i worship...)

Of course...I could always pretend I don't know what they're talking about and tell them they must be hallucinating. That could be entertaining. At least for a minute or two.

Tattoo? Tree? On my back? Isn't it a little early in the day to be hitting the bar so hard?

Oh hell, I thought of something worse. Receiving line. I have to stand in a freakin' receiving line. In a mauve dress.

I am so getting ballet flats. Chelle had better not have any grand plans to get me into dress heels. Cause...no. I will not endure physical pain. And I can't remember the last time I saw a pair of wedding-appropriate heels that I would be willing to wear. This is not a matter of aesthetics. I will only wear heeled shoes if the heels have a certain thickness. The sort of heels that I'm talking about tend not to occur on dressy shoes. (Damn. I wish I still had my red platform sandals. I wouldn't wear them for the wedding, I just really REALLY wish I still had them. Cause there's just nothing like a 6'2" Fuego.) While I have never injured myself while wearing high heels, I have a certain amount of paranoia concerning my ankles. I've sprained both of them too many times and I'd really prefer not to ever do that again. I'd rather have one run over by a car.

No, seriously. The Mustang running over my ankle hurt considerably less than any of the times I've ever sprained one.

And yesterday, I got a sketchpad and some drawing pencils (the all-graphite, no-wood, really heavy kind) and today whilst tethered to my desk, I started sketching a bit.

Methinks that butterfly wings with knives jutting out all over will be easier to draw than I previously thought. If only I could decide on the precise shape of the wings themselves. Well, I can decide...but I haven't really been able to draw them. They keep looking like crescent moons.

And last night, I found myself made the leader of the Interfaith Fairness Coalition's Gay Pride Week Interfaith Service Sub-Committee. (Yeah, you know what they say, the longer the title, the less important the job) Well, it sorta happened by default. One person has too many health problems, the other is on our little sub-committee in a specific, limited capacity.

Lucky for me, that specific, limited capacity involves him doing a large chunk of the work. And someone else has volunteered to do another large chunk of work. (It's not that I wouldn't be willing to do any of it, I just don't have the information necessary. Or free weekdays. So I get to um...think of a theme or something? I think it also involves some public speaking on my part the day of.

I've always wanted to be a figurehead. (Or not, really. I just felt like saying "figurehead".)

Looks like the weather is slowly starting to improve. All I gotta say is hell if I'm leading another ritual through gale-force winds a la Samhain or torrential downpours much like Midsummer.

I'm difficult like that.

Uhg. It's 10? I need to charge my ipod. I should go to sleep a bit earlier than I have the last 2 nights. Hopefully I'll sleep a full night.

Speaking of next week, I still have to write stuff. Invocations. Seasonal lore. Meditation. And the last couple of pieces of my blasted DP. I've got my dedicant's oath somewhat figured out. I keep forgetting that I have my book reviews mostly-written. I just have to get them off of the cd they're on.
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I wish that I could draw. That is to saw, draw as well as I'd like to be able to.

Because for some time now I've had this astounding image of Itzpopalotl, the Aztec Obsidian Butterfly goddess in my mind.

She scares me.

But I wish I could draw her.

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