I know, I’ve been the worst. I’ve courted you and then left you to die. Generally as a blogger, this is where I’d be all, “baby, baby, I’ll change” and I will . . .eventually. Right now it’s the summer and I wish to go/ to the festival as well as Mexico. I will get back into the game sooner or later, once my head is less clogged with parties, lust and time to read an entire novel . As my boss once said, “Baby, just because I don’t call and I don’t write, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
But I will have stories.
For now, though I rarely try to appeal to you via my stupid motherfucking problems when it comes to purchasing my wares and instead try to excite you to be motivated to buy items that will make you faster, stronger and sexxxier, because let’s be real: better you die than I. That being said, I do offer new limited edition ritual oils. And, (perhaps) for one of my few times, a sad story.
You all remember when Jow and I got married, right? It was all Baz Lehrman up in here with an ex-pat Aussie and his beloved, a short silk gifted gown and a Masonic renegade priest determined to wed us, no matter what The Man (the Monsignor) wanted to deny (a story only few know because two can keep a secret/ if one of us is dead), a scene stealing nephew and a typical amount of Italian-American drama, though I wore sparkly Manolo Blahnik heels and borrowed jewels from Ms. K and my grandmother’s dressing gown to get ready.
It was beautiful, it was perfect. It was everything.
Howevah. Our honeymoon? Well . . .it’s hard to want to be super sexy when Deb has just lost her job and does not know when she’ll be employed again (hint: six nail-biting weeks), wedding money is generous but limited, there are plumbing problems in their newly purchased home (that MamaFran funded the repair of and would not hear of even having the amount known let alone a loan because she is a fierce bitch) and everything is darkness and dragons. Deb spent much of the honeymoon vomiting after she ate anything out of stress and fear (and that’s just as sexy as it sounds which is to say: horrible), Jow tried to put a good face on but was visibly fretting (which is so conductive to rabbit-like honeymoon behavior) and we cooked dinner in almost every night and watched CSI, locked in each other’s arms in a death like grip of fear of losing our newly acquired tiny home. We blew a tire on the way home and Deb cried every few days because: darkness, dragons.
Three years later, we are much better off. Deb is working in a small accounting company and has contracts with Llewellyn along with a thriving craft business, Jow goes to school for his nursing degree and massages the rich and weary regularly. We pay our mortgage on time, every time. The cats are useless and contribute nothing but we are on top of All of the Things. We managed to pay for a (proper) belated honeymoon in the Mayan Rivera where the food and booze are plentiful and included and the suite is sexy and all will be well.
Still, it would be nice to have just a little more money so that there are not plumbing fears and so we can enjoy ourselves.
So, selfishly, I present to you my late summer Limited Edition Ritual Fragrances which are (online) discontinued as soon as we leave for Mexico because . . .MamaDeb needs a new pair of (spa) shoes. Naturally, should you want to glance through the rest of the shop, feel free. Nothing will be restocked until September so once it’s gone, it’s gone!