Don’t Drive Angry!

There seems to be a nasty trend with this little rodent. 

No, not Bill – Bill’s cool.  

I mean the furry fiend sitting in front of him behind the wheel.  This little dude is pissed.  And he has been driving angry for most of his career as the prognosticator of prognosticators.  I think maybe he needs some therapy, and someone should be looking into how he got a license to predict the weather in the first place!  I rather doubt he actually has a degree in meteorology.  Unless one was given to him as a “honorary weather dude”, which hardly seems right.

According to Phil has been angry for a long, long time:

“Of the 114 predictions on record so far, Punxsutawney Phil has predicted an early spring 14 times (12%). As to his accuracy, according to the StormFax Weather Almanac and records kept since 1887, Phil’s predictions have been correct just 39% of the time.”

So, not only does he seem to hate Spring – he’s also wrong a lot.  This begs the question:  Is Phil happy at his job?

Granted, this little furry dude is pampered for his whole life.  Phil lives in the Punxsutawney library with “his wife, Phyllis”, and is taken care of by his handlers, who are members of the “Inner Circle”.

And every summer, he gets a sip of a “magic elixir” which is purported to give him an extra 7 years of life.  This little dude’s been doing this for over a hundred years.  That’s a long time to hold 1 job.

And the retirement plan kinda sucks. 

Cause it doesn’t seem to exist.  Ever.

You know, looking back on the life of Phil, maybe he’s not so much angry, as he is simply tired.  I know I would be after doing the same job for that long. 

Maybe it’s time for a replacement?

How ’bout…….  Punxsutawney Pete, the Pussycat?

Ok, simmer down, and hear me out!

Cats already have 9 lives – so there wouldn’t be any need for a magic potion to keep him alive.  He’d be good for a looooong time.

Cats like – no scratch that – cats love to sleep.  They can hibernate for almost forever and not get bored. 

Cats often jump at shadows, so… there’s that.

And, instead of only speaking Groundhogese?  Cats speak a language that almost anyone can translate.

“Rrrow?”  – Did you hear me?  I’m talking to you!

“Meow.” – I’m hungry.

“Meeeoooow” – I need to go outside.

“Mrrroooowww” – Pet me.  Now.

“Rrrrrrrooooowwww — hissssssss!” – No.  Not only no, but  NO.

“Prrrrrrrrrrr” – Yeeeesssss.  You may worship me now.

I rest my case. 

Cut poor Phil a break, guys?  I’m sure that he’d love to be a retiree in some community down in Arizona or Florida, where he can rest and relax with Phyllis and his friends in the pinochle club.  After all these years, doesn’t he deserve a nice retirement package?

And I’m sure that there are a lot of other well-deserving critters out there that would jump at the chance to get their claws, paws and furry butts on the big stump!

Tuesday Theology-Imbolc

February 2nd is tomorrow.  I love February 2nd.  Even with the continuing cold, and the darkness, I find myself looking forward to it, waiting, impatient, urging the calendar to flip over and be there.  Because February 2nd was the beginning of something very special to me.

On February 2nd, 1999, I formally declared my intention to be Wiccan, after almost 2 years of studying it, practicing as much as I could on my own, and weighing whether this was the right path for me or not.

February 2nd is also known as Imbolc, which is a Celtic word that translates roughly to “In the belly of the mother”; or as it’s also known, Oimelc, which translates to “mother’s milk”. 

This holiday falls around the time when the ewes were giving birth to the lambs, when the earliest flowers would crack through the snow’s crust to bloom.  The lambs, snowdrops and crocuses were welcome signs that Mother Earth had not abandoned her children, but was promising Spring to come.

Most people now simply associate this day with Groundhog’s Day, waiting to hear what Punxsutawney Phil has to say about the remainder of time before they can go outside without longjohns and mittens.  In the past, it was a day for weather predictions as well, but the people watched the snakes and badgers for their weather news, instead of groundhogs.

“Imbolc is the day the Cailleach — the hag of Gaelic tradition — gathers her firewood for the rest of the winter. Legend has it that if she intends to make the winter last a good while longer, she will make sure the weather on Imbolc is bright and sunny, so she can gather plenty of firewood. Therefore, people are generally relieved if Imbolc is a day of foul weather, as it means the Cailleach is asleep and winter is almost over.” Wikipedia

For Wiccans, at least for me, it is a day of renewal.  It is the day that I restate my vows to my Goddess and God, and to myself, reaffirming that I am on the path that I am meant to follow.  It is also a day for new beginnings.  It is the day of hope, of promise, that the seeds that were planted, that lay fallow for the winter, hibernating, are ready to sprout and grow. 

One of the seeds that I planted is almost ready to sprout.  It is full of promise, full of hope, and ready to grow into a lovely garden.  This seed is the idea that I was now willing to teach a class — Wicca 101.  I planted the idea last fall, letting others know that I was contemplating it, and was willing to go ahead, if there were willing students.  And they were.  I am going to be watching this seed sprout this Sunday, as my students and I get together for the first lesson.

It is a time of great promise, for the sun is returning.  Bringing light, warmth, and life.  It may be still hiding right now, not obviously visible, but it’s there.  It’s creeping up on us, slowly, stealthily, ready to burst out and surprise us with its beauty.

Get ready – it’s coming!