So when I said I was raiding Christmas tree scraps -- I wasn't kidding. For reference, that's the pile of branches in the back of the Mini, and with a bundle of firewood. Go big or go home, I like to say. I might get more tomorow night, too.

It's not quite cutting mistletoe with a sickle at dawn while standing on one leg, but hey, I'm a modern pagan. And, there's no mistletoe growing within 25 miles of me -- yes, I've looked. But if you're local and you know of any, hip me to it, yes?





There has been so much bureaucracy to deal with this week that it beggars description. Frustrated, tired, and with a migraine starting this morning, I decided to make an offering to Quirinus, Roman god of bureaucracy.... Say what you will, it worked -- the bureaucracy cleared up, and the seas of red tape were parted.

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caravaggio study, take 4...

Or 5? I forget.

This study will be the death of me. Or of the man with two silver earrings; right now, I'm not sure which. I've had to start completely over on a new canvas, and wipe canvas #2 three times. Maybe four -- I've lost count.

Here's the canvas so far, with just the main large darks laid in:


Notice the vestiges of the other versions. A closeup:


And what the bastard thing should look like when I'm done:

Bacchino Malato (Caravaggio)

That's about how I feel after celebrating Beltane last night. Sick Bacchus, indeed. I woke up outside, the fire long since burned out, with a crick in my neck, and doumbek in hand. Then staggered upstairs to finish off the ritual properly.

Right. Back to it.

[EDIT] Here it is with the white laid in:

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my other minion is a pagan superhero

so i enlisted him as a second minion, because i'm always looking to expand my small-but-mighty empire: here sláine is on my desk, joining forces with the tick, and my gargoyle pen holder.... i hate sterile-looking environments; they make me feel like someone's about to do surgery on my back when i'm not paying attention, because they're so clinical-looking and cold.... like sláine, my fashion choices, if i could have my druthers, would involve furry boots, jewelry, and as much as i hate to admit it, some really unflattering but comfy pants.

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that wasn't what i'd expected at all; i thought i'd see some people i knew in the crowd, and maybe if we bumped into each other we'd politely say hello and move on. but instead, people stopped me and asked how i was doing; wanted to get together for dinner or lunch; and told me how much they missed me. when my professor saw me in the book signing line, he got up and gave me a huge hug and kiss on the cheek, and he started chattering until his dean came over and reminded him there were other people in line.... everywhere i went, i saw someone i had history with: the religion professor who spotted me as i went to go say hello to the photographer; one of my fellow alumni who was behind me in line; a dozen professors; staff i worked with; trustees.

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