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Aftermath and Myths

The holiday aftermath: the bags were a hit. Bryony hasn’t put hers down since Christmas day, although she has removed the drawstring and the gods only know where it is now. If I’d known it was going to vanish that quickly, I probably wouldn’t have spent the time making a crocheted cord for the thing, just slipped a plain old piece of yarn through the holes…or not made any holes at all!! Ah, well…they loved them, and that’s all that matters to me.

Bryony turned seven this week as well, and, unfortunately, their dad was just starting on bronchitis (yes, for once, it wasn’t me!). Unfortunately for him, she refused to be patient and wait for us to celebrate her birthday in January, and dragged us all to Chuck E. Cheese that evening. The PIP was less than thrilled, as he felt like utter crap and was forced to endure the noise and the tons of people when all he really wanted was to crawl into bed and be left alone. I honestly couldn’t blame him: I had bronchitis earlier this year, and if he feels anything like I did, she’s very lucky he felt obligated to go out with her on her birthday! For both of us, it started with a headache that was unbelievable in its intensity for not being a migraine. I swear that was almost worse than the nearly incessant coughing! But he went, which didn’t help matters later on…he’s been awake for the better part of two days now, due to the coughing that gets worse at night. Because he’s got sleep apnea anytime he catches anything that settles in his chest, we’re back to sharing the bed so I can poke him, which has the result of starting him breathing again. That being the case, I’ve also been up since he’s been sick, and catching a few winks here and there during the day.

Her birthday is really difficult to deal with, falling as it does in the middle of the holiday season. There’s no point in throwing a party for her anytime between Christmas and New Year’s, because A. no one will come, and B. no one who has children has any money left to buy birthday gifts for someone else’s kid at that time! So every year, we plan for doing something in January, and every year, she naysays us, insisting on doing everything on that day. It doesn’t feel right, she says, to do it later. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but because he wasn’t feeling well, it was this time, and even though we explained to her that dad was sick–he was feverish, coughing, the whole nine yards–she threw a temper tantrum. My response would have been to put her in her room and do nothing at all, but the PIP felt that he would rather give in and do it her way despite the tantrum this time. He’s gonna regret that next year, I’m sure.

As to the mythical portion of the post title, that came out of something that has always amused me: legendary, so-called monsters that in ancient times always inspired fear, such as dragons and gryphons, have become symbols of other things now. Honor, loyalty, strength, you name it, usually good things. How did they make the metamorphosis? For instance, my high school mascot was the dragon, and all of us who graduated from that school still refer to ourselves as Dragons. I often wonder how one balances a belief that dragons are honorable creatures with the belief in St. George, the ultimate dragonslayer. It’s never been a problem for me; I’ve always been on the dragon’s side!!! But how did a creature who once upon a time was known as a man-eating monster and destroyer of whole villages become a symbol of anything good? Of course, me being myself, I’ve also always wondered how much of their existence is fact or fancy? I’ve seen ancient depictions of dragons from different countries that looked the same, or so close as to make no difference, yet at the time there was no reason to believe that the peoples from those countries had crossed each other’s paths. So what does that mean for their existence? Was it actually a dragon, or a leftover dinosaur, maybe a pterodactyl or something like it? But the pictures in question look nothing like what I’ve been taught to see as a pterodactyl at all. Then again, no one has ever found a skeleton of a dragon, either, at least not provably so. So what does all this mean?

Well, I’m a romantic, I’m Wiccan, and I love fantasy, so I prefer to believe that all those fantastic creatures did exist, and that maybe they still do, just on a different plane than we do. Or maybe no skeletons have been found because dragons are truly immortal, and they’re in hibernation somewhere near the core of the earth where we can’t get to them. Sounds like a great story, right?

And maybe I’m crazy, but I feel that making the choice not to believe is to deliberately remove the magic from life. And where’s the fun in that? Fantasizing about the actual existence of dragons, unicorns, and gryphons (oh, my) is a lot more fun than some fantasies, and lets me hold onto a bit of childhood, which will keep me younger at heart than those who don’t! Just my opinion.

Speaking of dragons, I’ll be taking my little guys into the tent in a little while. Progress is being made, a tiny bit at a time, at least as far as the cage goes. Mnementh will actively approach the cage sides and climb them to meet me eye-to-eye and beg for treats that he will take from my hand. Canth and Ruth are starting to approach, but a good deal more slowly, and will snatch their treats and run for it. Last night, Ruth took his treat to the hammock, and I slowly reached in to pet him. He leaned away from my hand and headed for the hills after one stroke, but he didn’t crab and didn’t try to bite, so I’m going to take that as a step in the right direction. Slow and steady, and all that.

Well, I’m off to see how the PIP is doing and then set up the tent. Wish me luck!


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