And the summer ain't over yet

This is another depressing post, though I know many of my blogfriends are going through problems of their own right now, bigger ones than mine. I'm still emo and touchy right now. You've had your warning.

For me, Labor Day, not Mabon (a/k/a the Autumn Equinox), is my end-of-summer celebration. Verily, I am an all-American Witch. But there wasn't a great deal of celebrating. I have said frequently that this has been one hungry summer, claiming lots of souls. It still goes on.

As long as I've been up here, friends of L'Ailee's have hosted a Labor Day party. They couldn't this year. Couldn't afford it. We definitely understood that. Lots of people can't afford lots of things. So we went to the Dreamland amusement park at Coney Island for its last day instead. I've really loved Coney Island. I spent my childhood around Daytona Beach (and spent lots of time there as a teenager), so if there's anything in the world that I understand, it's unabashed tackiness by the ocean.

This spring, Dreamland was opened where the late, lamented Astroland used to be. It was shut down two weeks ago for nonpayment of rent, but the landlords let them reopen for one last end-of-summer hurrah. I underestimated how depressing it would be. Maybe if I were in a better frame of mind, I'd have been okay with it all. But I wasn't. It was a funeral for an amusement park, and I'd already had that when Astroland closed down. Didn't need it. Just didn't need it. So we left, and I ended up spending the day in bed because I'm just that well-adjusted. L'Ailee and the cats joined me, at various times and in various capacities, and eventually I felt better.

Plus I learned yesterday that Marion Weinstein died this July. She was the author of my, and a lot of peoples', first Witchy book, Positive Magic. She was a very modern, urban Witch in New York City, blessed with a wonderfully common touch and a great sense of humor, and she publicized the reality of modern religious Witchcraft at a time when most people wouldn't touch it in a haz-mat suit. I remember how refreshingly manageable her advice was, how I felt like I'd finally found something for my life.

Thirteen years ago, at 22, I was spiritually adrift and at sea. I only knew what I wasn't...not a fundamentalist Christian, not a Jew, not an atheist. Marion Weinstein showed me something else. She adapted with the times, too. In the 1970s, she had a radio show about the Craft. In recent years, she posted videos on YouTube. She won't get the fanfare some others who died this summer did, but she definitely left a legacy behind. I post this because I am a small part of that legacy. She literally changed my life, and it sucks that I never got to tell her except in e-mail. There will be a memorial service for her at NYC Pagan Pride Day, September 26. I am so there.

Today I was going to watch Alex Ovechkin drive a Zamboni down Sixth Avenue. Seemed like it would be something to see, and since I won't be able to stalk Tony Stewart go to the NASCAR Sprint Cup Championship events this year because the idiots moved it all to Las Vegas, I'll take my sports spectacle where I can get it. However, I couldn't go because it was too far from my work and I was too busy to consider leaving.

Actually, I would rather have made out with Ovie for five full minutes, pausing only to tell him how hot his new Japanese tramp stamp is, than gone to work this week. (For those who don't follow Eastern Conference NHL hockey, this is not something a Pittsburgh Penguins fan, or anyone with taste, would usually say.) We figured that since our friend and co-worker Maia died and all, we'd have to accept that she would not be coming back from FMLA leave after all, and someone else would have to be hired for her former position. Guess who the lucky duck who gets to plow through the applications, call in applicants for interviews, check backgrounds, etc. is? Thaaaaaat's right. I've been telling myself to "cowgirl up" a lot. I remind myself that this isn't replacing *her*, it's filling a necessary *position*. And I'll be nice to the interviewees and not tell them stories or make any comparisons in my head....

The fact that it's 9/11 Week (the anniversary is this Friday) doesn't help my mood, either. But this does. L'Ailee laughed at what I typed just above. "Don't you redneck women love to make out with Russians?" she teased. "You have an expression for that."
"Get along like a house on fire?" I asked.
"Yes. Rednecks and Russians get along like a house on fire." In my family, they do, too. Not only am I married to L'Ailee, but her male cousin is married to my female one, and one of my male cousins is married to a Russian woman.
L'Ailee laughed throatily, then climbed in the computer chair with me and proceeded to prove the expression correct for a few minutes. I even told her how hot her little bat tattoos are. "Not as hot as your panda tramp stamp," she told me. We nearly broke the chair, but it was so worthwhile.

So we'll remember the good things. It's Fashion Week, and L'Ailee's enjoying it even though things are a bit scaled back. The participants in the Chase for the NASCAR Sprint Cup Championship will be decided on Saturday night in Richmond, and we sincerely hope Kyle Busch will be one of the 12 Chasers at the end of the race. The weather's cooling down. My great-aunt is doing better. Things change, they grow, they end, they get made new. I'll deal with it, even if occasionally I tear up in a goddamned amusement park and take to my bed on a holiday I normally love.

Current events, lists of links, etc. to return later.