Cake, Butches and Death

I love food. Have I mentioned this recently? I also love food blogs. I just found one by accident. Here’s how my “accidents” happen. At work today, a co-worker brought in her infamous Sock-It-To-Me Cake for another co-worker’s birthday (HI Z. I know you are reading this!). So I wanted to see what goes in this cake.

To the GoogleMobile!

The first hit mentioned the Neelys. I haven’t seen their show (I know, bad Arwen), but I love the clips I’ve seen. So I grabbed the recipe even though it is nothing like the cake my co-worker makes. Let me pause for a moment to wax lyrical about her cake. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Sorry, my mouth was full of cake so you may not have gotten the full lyrical effect. Trust me. It was good and the cake was better.

Anyway, I digress. I’m on the recipe site and I see “Sloppy Bombay Joes”. Errr? My head turns to one side as I click the link. Oh Em Gee! It’s these marvelous sounding sloppy joes that use Indian spices and turkey. I may have to try those out. Then I look up to see who did them. It’s some chick named Aarti.

I will pause to confess that I don’t watch a lot of the “Next Star” shows. I was hooked on the “Next King Of The Jungle” because it had animals, but I really get sad when someone leaves. I may get a bit overly-emotionally involved. 😐

But this woman, Aarti Sequeria, has just won the Next Food Network Star show. Her show, Aarti’s Party, is on Sundays at 12pm EST. I’m setting my DVR for this one. I also ran over to read her blog which was very nice. She’s got a great voice with a very approachable style. I’d buy a cookbook from her for sure. Anyway, her blog made me think about this one.

I want to post more but lately I’ve been a bit sad. I have this thing about being a Joy Seeker, right? So can I post here when I’m not seeking joy? Does that take away from my joy seeking? Part of me thinks that it does but part of me knows that’s just the sadness speaking. Keeping me away from something that does bring me joy.

I just had the most amazing weekend in Little Rock. I hung out with about seventy other people who were all there for the same reason–to meet and greet and be with others of a like mind. What like mind? Butches and Femmes, baby. Queers. In case you missed the obviousness of it, I’m a queer femme. I adore butch/trans/queer energy as a partnership to my femme energy. I love getting together with my people. I hang out on a site for butches and femmes. We call it the Planet. If you id as butch or femme and aren’t on the Planet, come join us. If you don’t id that way, love you. Mean it. You have other places to go, I’m sure.

But coming home from there was hard. It’s like a mini-Utopia in a lot of ways. We are all in the same place. We all recognize one another. There was so much hugging, handshaking and kissing going on you would have thought it was the beginning of Woodstock and free love for all. But it was free love for all and I miss it when I get home. I’m really blessed where I live. Austin has an awesome BF community. We get together frequently. In fact, there will be a dinner out in another week or so. I can’t go due to work hours (pout pout pout) but that’s okay. I’ll catch them the next time around for sure.

Back to the sad though. When I came home, I already knew something bad. My beloved stepson had told me that my eldest cat (and familiar) was not doing well. She’d taken to sleeping behind the toilet and only getting up to void. He put her water and food there with her. So I come home knowing that my eighteen year old darling girl, Carmen, has started that journey to cross the Rainbow Bridge. I cried off and on the whole trip home from Little Rock. Oh yeah. I was a charming car companion. Thanks for not tossing me out on the side of the road, y’all.

So I’m just making her comfortable at this time. This morning she came out of the bathroom to MAROWWWW at me. Apparently I’d committed one of the 7 Deadly Cat Sins. Her bowl was empty. I snuggled with her a bit before being inclined to acquiesce to her insistence. When I left, she was sleeping in my laundry basket, so I was happy.

Don’t get me wrong. Carmen is dying. It’s clear in her weight loss, her eyes, her attitude. I am struggling with myself to let her go with grace rather than forcing the issue by going to the vet. I’ve never not gone to the vet. I will take her if she is in pain or distress. I can’t do that to her or myself. I am not that person.

Sometimes? Sometimes the Death card really is about death. And it is painful. It is an irrevocable change. It really does suck. Speaking of Death, a beloved friend passed away a few weeks ago. Her husband sent me some of her books and decks. I have been consulting with him about the other thirty or so Tarot decks and books. He’s got some real treasures (Papus,Oswald Wirth, The Wisdom of Solomon the King, Phoenix Cards) as well as some fairly common ones. I’m going to help him sell these. He will be donating the money to a cause close to he and his wife’s heart. She was an amazing priestess as well as crocheter–a crafter in all senses of the word.

So I’ve rambled in this blog from food to fears to butches to dying. What’s going on in your world? What is moving you to speak? To cry? To laugh? To love? Let me know.

By the way, if you are thinking about taking one of my two upcoming classes, the early bird prices are over after Monday. Don’t delay!

Kings, Queens & Card Sharps (online class) Sunday September 19, 2010 – Sunday October 20, 2010.

Learn The Tarot With Arwen (6 Wk Online Class) September 12 – October 23, 2010