Mar a bhitheas vyth go bragh

I think the hardest part of being an Aphrodisian isn't that I finally got over the urge to Love EVERYONE (whether they deserved my effort or not) but that I'm terrified of Hephaistos's forge.

For as long as I can remember, I've had dreams of volcanoes erupting in my living room or in my neighborhood, despite never being anywhere where I had to deal with anything of the earth. Hell, I went through my first earthquake a couple of years ago and that was due to fracking and not being on a fault line. I went to Yellowstone before the huge fire in 1988 but spent that entire trip miserable thanks to getting my braces tightened and altitude sickness.

The prevailing belief is that the phobia comes from being in Herculaneum in AD 79 (since, as you know, Pompeii got the ash and Herculaneum and Stabiae got the lava) but that's one door in my past life regressions that I refuse to open.

I hate that I have to constantly tell everyone to stop tagging me in volcano posts. I know it's an off the wall phobia with no verifiable basis in fact and while it's true that the nightmares have significantly lessened as I've aged, I hate that people feel the need to send me news stories and pictures of lava. It's gotten to the point where I have to seek out those stories so I know they're occurring so I don't get the gut check of seeing lava on my feed.

I have to feed my phobia to keep it in check. If this were anyone else or any other fear, no one would bat an eye but it's me and it's something off the wall so people need to poke me.

1. Friends list amended. I'm too old and too happy to deal with the stuff I tolerated years ago so I'm done.

2. Every so often, some random stranger decides that I need to be the responsitory for "forbidden knowledge." I made the mistake of smiling at an older gentlemen as I was walking around English Landing Park. He started to engage me in a conversation and, being the polite person I am, I took the bait. Oh my. Little did I know that I was in for a dicussion on Radionics. Among other things, this guy was Merlin in a past life (which makes for the third person I've met who's made that claim), he used the word "warlock" for a male witch (and looked affronted when I smiled and told him what that meant) and my IQ went up 30 points from talking to him. Of course, now that I know this, I'm a target for "The New World Order" people who have infiltrated every level of society.

3. Unless you've been abused or had something equally traumatic happen to you or you're under the age of 40, stop affecting cynicism. It isn't cool, it does not denote intelligence and you have no right to it. It isn't a virtue and you're just coming off as pretentious. Enough.

I got to see my parents this weekend! Mom decided that it had been too long since she'd seen Bruce and I (it had been since our October wedding) so her Mother's Day present was to drive out with Dad to spend the weekend with us. It was lovely.
On Saturday, we had went for a walk around downtown Parkville, had lunch at a local Italian place, ate Chinese and watched Zombieland. I didn't really pay attention to the movie because Woody Harrelson makes me feel squicky but it surprised me that Dad wanted to see it.
Sunday, Mom and Dad came over after going to Mass. I took them down my normal walking route around English Landing Park and we went home to eat fruit while Bruce cooked dinner. He made fresh pasta with white wine poached red snapper with garlic and onion infused cream sauce tossed with raw tomatoes for Mom and I while he and Dad had flat-iron seared steaks with baked potatoes. I have a seriously amazing husband.

After dinner, we watched the pilot episode of Firefly. I've only been trying to get Dad to watch it for three years now...

They left this morning, just in time for Bruce's birthday. Since he reads this on occasion, I don't want to post what I got him; suffice to say, it's coming from Europe so I don't know when it will get here. I will say that I'm really excited about it and I can't wait for him to get it. We went and saw Iron Man 2 on Friday as kind of a pre-birthday thing but we were rather disappointed in it so I think what I have planned for tonight will have to make up for it. Note to self: make sure you have cake pans for carrot cake...



My Dad and I at English Landing Park. You'd never know that I spent 20 minutes on my hair with a round brush that morning... stupid wind...



This pretty much sums up my Mom.



Mom, with her tongue in her mouth, and I.


This also sums up my Mom. You can kind of see Dad behind her.

One of the lovely things about having a job is being able to afford the things to help me make my dream of Goddess Tasia Jewelry a reality.
I spent $64 dollars on a WigJig (a transparent plastic pegboard), nylon jaw pliers and a SuperPeg so I could learn how to do clean wire-based jewelry.
I wish I had gotten the nylon jaw pliers ages ago. They're used to straighten kinks out of the wire so it can be salvaged. I heart my pliers.


So, I made two projects this weekend.


This is a necklace component made of sterling silver wire, aquamarine and pearls. I'm not quite happy with it; one of the loops is not proportional but I just learned this.



The jig comes with several small pegs. The SuperPeg allows me to make a larger diameter wrap. These are also sterling silver with a gold Swarovski crystal dangle.

I have many dear and wonderful, well-adjusted friends (or friends who can, at the very least, fake it). I also have dear and wonderful friends with issues. I can handle having friends with issues, as I also have issues, but what I can no longer abide is abject humility.

I get low self-esteem. I get humility. However, when you mix low self- esteem with someone trying to convince you of just how lowly they are, it just gets annoying. The whole Goddess persona started as a joke, folks, and any noble blood coursing through my veins (on both sides, thankyouverymuch) is so far back as to not really matter. As the saying goes, I only play a Queen on TV...

I know this is going to have the same effect as me screaming at a black hole, but I have to try: if your life sucks, it's because you don't think enough of yourself to make it better. The minute you see yourself as "worth it" is the minute everything starts to look up. Make a decision for yourself. Now, this doesn't mean belligerence. Being an ass just so you can feel like you've stood up for yourself just makes people avoid you more. Be assertive, not aggressive- there is a fine line but there is a boundary.

Just about every guy I dated had this problem and when I found Bruce, I almost didn't know what to do with it. I found a man (!) who could tell me what he needed and what he wanted without whining. He knew the difference between the two. That's why he has the intelligent and hot chick. I couldn't steamroll over him! If I get annoyed, he doesn't immediately crumble under my withering glare and beg for forgiveness (yes, that has happened and it was as embarrassing as it sounds...), he calmly asks what's wrong!

To quote Heinlein, "If you don't like yourself, you can't like other people." To have friends, you have to be the friend you want. To have a lover, you have to be the lover you want. If the people you target aren't who you want, find other people. It's that easy. Figure out want you want, figure out what you need (figure out the difference between the two!) and go to it.

Anyone else want to come out of the woodwork and make my wedding about them? You have until midnight tomorrow to come forth. After that, the next person who says anything other than, "Stephanie, I had a lovely time! Thank you so much!" will get an earfull. I've had it.

(You know, I wish I were kidding but I'm not. It happened in OCTOBER, folks and it wasn't about you in the first place. Next time I throw a party, I'm not inviting anyone. Unless they come bearing guinea pigs.)

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When I worked for Sony, I ran into a couple of celebrities. I've never been one for screaming or losing my dignity just because someone's famous so I have no cause to look back, embarrassed. I've talked to Derek Jeter and Jorge Posada one of the many times the Yankees were in Kansas City. Now, I'll be honest: I don't follow sports. When they came in, wearing jeans and tee-shirts, I thought that they looked familiar but I didn't want to be that girl. You know, "Oh my god! *tee hee* You look like Derek Jeter!" Fortunately, the manager was in the store and announced it over the headset. They came in, looked around and were getting ready to leave when I looked up at them, "Guys, I don't mean to be uncouth but my (then) boyfriend is a huge Yankees fan. May I have your autograph?"
Jeter looked over my shoulder, "Only if we can have a free computer."
I smiled, "Sorry. I'm not that cool."
They laughed and gave me their autographs.

I offended Jimmy John Liautaud when he came in. He wanted several things and presented a black American Express. I had no idea who he was or what this fake looking thing he handed me was so I asked to see his driver's license. He looked at me oddly but showed it anyway. Despite that, I had the highest sale that day.

I didn't get to talk to him, but Lewis Black is very quiet in person.

And the one I'm most proud of is, of course, one of my favorite authors, Patricia Kennealy- Morrison. I fell in love with her books at Emporia State but didn't think of writing to her until I found one of her websites by accident. It listed a P.O Box so I wrote her a note expressing my admiration. Not long after that, I found her 'blog and petitioned to be added to her friend's list. I've always found my interactions with her exceedingly pleasant and polite... and the best part... she interacts with her fans! There's none of the standoffishness that one associates with writers like the late J.D. Salinger.

"Feminism is the radical notion that women are people." attributed to Cheris Kramarae and Paula Treichler

I wear make-up, short skirts, and high heels. I pay for microdermabrasion. I get my hair done. I expect men to open doors for me. I am a feminist.

I go to strip clubs, fetish balls, and sex shops. I drink, enjoy sex and swear. I am a feminist.

I am the intellectual equal of any man but I accept that he is probably stronger than I and so can do things that I cannot. I will ask for help if I need it. I chose Paganism not out of a sense of reparation but for spiritual reasons. I am a complement to man, not superior to him. I believe that whether or not I sit on the street corner in a burqa and hijab, or splayed out like Sheela-na- Gig, I am not looking to be raped. Men are as accountable for their actions as I am. I am neither property nor chattel. I am equal.

There is no one way to define a feminist. Men can be just as feminist as women. So the next time you find something strikingly not fair, think before you say, "I'm not a feminist, but..." Because guess what? You are.

The lyrics, en français, because I don't feel like translating them at the moment. So there. However, as I am not totally without mercy: The Babel Fish translator.

Dansons tu dis
Et moi, je suis
Mes pas sont gauches
Mes pieds tu fauches
Je crains les sots
Je cherche en vain les mots
Pour m'expliquer ta vie, alors
Tu ments, ma Soeur
Tu brises mon coeur
Je pense, tu sais
Erreurs, jamais
J'ecoute, tu parles
Je ne comprends pas bien
La belle dame sans regrets

Je pleure, tu ris
Je chante, tu cries
Tu semes les graines
D'un mauvais ch‚ne
Mon ble s'envole
Tu en a ras le bol
J'attends, toujours
Mes cris sont sourds
Tu ments, ma Soeur
Tu brises mon coeur
Je pense, tu sais
Erreurs, jamais
J'ecoute, tu parles
Je ne comprends pas bien
La belle dame sans regrets...

As I get my romance evenly spaced throughout the year (and I hate diamonds... EAT IT, DE BEERS!), I don't need to get all googly-eyed on a martyr's day that sprung up around Lupercalia. However, as I am an American girl, I do like to do something, if only for myself.

Last year, I drew myself a pendent on Shrink Art plastic using Stephen Reid's painting The Wooing of Etain as a guide.



As you can see, I made Etain a brunette and I lengthened Midir's helmet to cover up his long hair as Bruce has a long standing rant against fantasy art and men with long hair. He doesn't understand why ALL the men have long hair when several notable civilizations had short-haired men. *coughcough ROME coughcough* I also tweaked Midir's nose. I tried to give him Bruce's Celtic nose but it ended up far more pointed than I would have liked.

This year, as I compare my beloved's profile to Vercingetorix (as drawn by Colleen McCullough), I may have to make myself a Gallic warrior pendent. We'll see.

I know that I finally have an idea for a an eye-clean trillion cut pink tourmaline a friend of mine bought me from his trip to India. I think it's hard enough on the Mohs scale to fire with my torch along with my silver Art Clay... I'll keep you posted.