July 27th, 2010



For those of you who don't know, my Boston wife flatmate is a witch. Not the green warty variety, or the white robed, floating-above-the-lake-making-predictions variety, she's more of the pottering about in the kitchen, straight talking Granny Weatherwax variety. She has a cauldron and she makes potions in our kitchen and they make the house smell really nice.

One thing, though - she's an urban witch. In fact, the site that she uses to sell her potions and things is called Urban Witchery.

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While we were there, we also shifted the ram lambs (these were alive) by waving a bucket at them so they'd follow Polly up the road. I really wish I'd taken photos because it was so totally shifting sheep urban witch styles, and would provide +2 nature-based religion cred at the Magick Earth Festival. SRSLY.

In other news, I approached the landlord about whether or not they've considered selling the house I'm living in and they are amenable. I know you're supposed to play your cards close to your chest in real estate, but in my life secrecy's never done me any favours and I prefer to be up front about my intentions and expectations. So we're all clear on what's likely to happen, how long it's likely to be, and where we're at with it. So in a few months, it's possible I'll be negotiating to buy my very own house. Currently we're about $50,000 apart on price but if this one doesn't work out, there are others. The point is, gosh. Me. Own house. Um.

Repeat after me - no Tats, you don't have to paint the walls fluoro..