Once again, I have a lot of little things to think and talk about, that built up over the past few days. Bear with me. :-)
L'Ailee and I love M.I.A. and her music. The US Department of Immigration, according to her blog, is not letting her in to record with an American artist. We're pissed. There is so, so, so much ignorance in the world, and in this country. We wish we could just look forward to her next CD. We wish we could "just" do a lot of things, though.
Beltaine...well, I don't know of any greetings beyond "Happy Beltaine" or "Blessed Beltaine" or just "Enjoy it!" Now, *that's* a holiday that involves making like bunnies! Pagans joke about it quite a bit. When I lived in Florida, my coven made a huge to-do about it. Last year, I barely acknowledged it, and felt all unbalanced. I do need to celebrate mental fertility after all, I believe. L'Ailee mentioned that in Russia, May Day is a workers' holiday, which is a communist legacy and also yet another indicator of how deeply the European Paleo-Pagans' calendar is engraved on their descendants' hearts. This one will be a little strange for us both, then. But not bad, never ever bad.
We made like bunnies on Easter Sunday. :-) Well, there wasn't a race! And then we celebrated Half-Price Chocolate Monday, too.
I am having a hard time with one of my friends right now. Well, she's having a hard time, and I don't think I helped. Her mother died of breast cancer a few months ago. Both her aunts have also had it; so has her grandmother. My friend wants to have a "prophylactic mastectomy"--cut 'em off, replace 'em with implants, before they develop cancer. She told me so this weekend. I thought her grief was talking. I thought she was letting fear rule her. My words were bland and non-judgemental; my face and voice were not. And the thing is, I don't actually care *what* she does, only about the whys. I don't think she can think about this enough, but I wasn't there, ain't gonna be there, and it's not my decision at all anyhow. I feel like all I can do is hurt or not-hurt, not actually help, and that's a lousy feeling. I apologized, but it doesn't seem like "enough". She said it was okay and we were, too, but she can't hide her feelings, either.
And L'Ailee and I bickered, too. We went shopping on Saturday. My little-skinny girl had a much easier time finding stuff than I did, even when you consider that she's *really* small (therefore those full skirts that don't even look good on models drowned her) and barely strays from her self-imposed black-gray-red palette. It's not her fault that I like ice cream too much and she works out for a living, but I was getting sore at finding *nothing*, and she was more available and easier to get bitchy at than the whole entire fashion industry.
We have a couple of running jokes when we shop, though. Once a saleswoman accused her of being in a rut with her colors. "Not a rut," L'Ailee replied crisply. "A trademark." When L'Ailee tried to gently hint that I could get away from the mer-woman palette I've embraced over the past couple years (all shades of turquoise and most shades of green, plus white), I threw that back at her, and we laughed like idiots. We also giggled as we fitted each other with "shopping blinders" (hands over her eyes or on the sides of her face, trying to keep her from seeing stuff.) A few people giggled at us, too, especially when I tickled L'Ailee's arms to get her to remove my "blinders". I think that in every relationship, every marriage, every couple, there is a "culture of two." It amazes me sometimes to see what ours is becoming.