Bangle bangle bangle bangle bangle bangle bangle bangle bangle bangle bangle bangle SISTRUM SISTRUM

(Ankh! Ankh! Oooooh, it's an ankh!)

Coincidence strikes, or else They're funning me again.

I put the final touches on a statue of Bast in a pose derived from some dancers' poses I researched, adjust Her position and get ready to fire the piece . . .

. . . and iTunes comes up with something that I always have to dance to.


Theeeeyyyyyyyy say that the women are worse than the men . . .

My fingers smell of vanilla and strawberries.

The vanilla bean had dried out since I acquired it a while back, and snapped as I pulled it out of the jar. I broke it into fifths and wrapped it in cheesecloth with nine rich-smelling cloves; I tied the cheesecloth closed and then tied the far end of it to the handle of the big pot.

teinedreugan cut up strawberries, a pint of them -- the first pint I found that didn't have something mashed and ruined at its bottom. One strawberry was only half-ripe; he asked me what to do with it. I ate the half that was ripe, and tossed the rest out into the yard for squirrels or birds or compost. A pint's not enough strawberry to brew with alone, but for flavor it should do rather nicely.

I tied the mesh bag full of strawberry bits to the other handle and made sure that the fruit was all below the surface of the grape juice. I'd already put in a Campden tablet to sterilise the must.

I'll turn off the heat before I go to bed and let it steep, and mash the fruit probably in the morning.

I need to give my carboys a scrub.


Now . . . with that little devotional to Hwt-Hrw prepared, let's see if I can get some work done today.

Addendum: Or I could mash the strawberries tonight so I don't have to think about it. That works too.