The Japanese Demon Profile Test

I've always wanted to know my Japanese Demon profile, especially now that we're playing Sorcerer, and my character just happens to be a Japanese woman who bound a demon so she could have a baby. Anyway, I'm (Parthenia) really glad I'm just the ultimate doer of mischief and not something really terrible. Given that I seem to be suffering an acute bout of angry intestinal disturbances this evening (feels like there's a demon in my colon!), I'll take mischief over death and destruction.

Kitsune You scored 16 in Malice and 27 in Chaos!

You are the Kitsune, or "Fox demon," the ultimate doer of mischief. Kitsune belong to a class of demons known as "Henge," or animal shape-shifters, along with the Tanuki, or badger-demon. They are uncanny creatures who are notorious as much for their malevolence as for their wild and unpredictable behavior; a fox demon may help a human, only to betray him in deepest consequence at a later date. Kitsune are known to frequently possess women or pose as humans, causing chaos and catastrophe where ever they go. They are mischievous creatures who take great pleasure in playing terrible tricks on unsuspecting mortals; however, this behavior indicates that they are more perversely playful and apathetic to human suffering than genuinely evil and desirous of harm.

Link: The Japanese Demon Profile Test written by Maharbal on OkCupid, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Speaking of Collecting...

I noticed today that the little basket where I keep all my hair toys is getting a little crowded. It's not usually so bad, but I'm only missing two. So I took a little inventory. Now before I expose myself as having an excessive number of hair accessories, please note, I probably wear at least one a day, often two to four. With classic length (past the butt) dreads, I don't generally wear my hair completely down before 5 pm on weekdays. Otherwise, I get tangled in stuff, I slam my hair in the car door, I sit on it, it falls in the toilet, gets in my face, other people's faces, entangles children, may get caught in machinery, you get the picture. So here are the fancy little objects that make my hair easier to deal with.
In picture 1:
Top left--Plastic octopus clip.
Top Center and down--Brass Floog, then four vintage kanzashi. The top one might be ivory. I have another one that is like the bottom one, but has rectangular ends of tortoise shell. It's currently MIA.
Bottom row--large bird of paradise fork, titanium fork, large Ficcare.

In picture 2: Left to right-- Green hairstick. I have a purple matching one, but it's MIA; wooden stick, aka "Vampire Slayer stake"; stainless steel sticks; radish sticks from China; blown glass size 11 knitting needles with dichroic twirls on the ends (yes, knitting needles! You never know when a skein of bulky yarn will fall out of the sky, and you'll be forced to knit a hat. Best to be prepared.); two pair of chopsticks given to me by Meg (thanks, Meg!); big sturdy zebrawood sticks made for me by the woodworking guy from the Greenfield Farmers Market.

In picture 3: Top left to right--wooden hair slide, made by the same woman who made the green (and MIA purple) stick; three hair screws custom made for dreads by A very nice lady; the token pony tail holder, much like the ones you find all over the house mostly by husband and kids (I have a great big one in my locker at the Y. I'm not really a ponytail wearer. I like half up-dos, front ends pulled back, loaf-like buns); cool leather hair wrap given to me by Meg (thanks, Meg!).
Sometimes, certain other parents in the household leave the scissors in the hair toy basket. I can think of better places to put the scissors, but one must keep a sense of humor about these things.

Yes, that is a very dirty chair.

How about "born okay the first time" dolls?

I love dolls, almost all types of dolls. I even like Barbie dolls (not so much the Bratz Dolls, but that's another blog entry for another day) I don't collect dolls per se. I'm big into the tactile experience of doll play, and keeping a doll in it's box until it might be worth some money is cool and all, but just won't work in a house with two girls who both share mama's thing for dolls (whether they share my thing about tattoos remains to be seen.)
My favorite dolls growing up were my three Sasha dolls. If I had kept them in the box and never enjoyed them, I'm sure they'd be worth a whole lotta money. Instead, they're worth a whole lotta memories, and Bea loves to play with them when we visit my parents.
My least favorite doll was a beautiful and elaborately clothed doll in traditional Chinese dress. I got her at a tag sale on my street. I don't know what it was about her, but I was afraid of her until I was about 14 and I packed her up and we moved to Memphis. Maybe she carried some baggage from her old house. Maybe she was mad because I never gave her a name.
When I last saw her, she was up on a high shelf in one of the closets at my folks house. I never displayed her when we moved to Memphis, but I did at least take her out of the box. Why didn't I pack her up sooner? Because she was part of my doll family. She was sort of like a scary Auntie Mame to the rest of the dolls. The fashion dolls wanted to dress like her, the baby dolls wanted to be baby sat by her, and only the rag dolls and stuffed animals sensed something was up with her. Next time I visit my folks, I'm going to look for her again, give her a name, and see if she scares my kids as well.
I was all interested in reborn dolls and thought about learning to make them until Meg made a reference to one in our game last night. And now I'm afraid of them, too.

That's what I love about dolls. You can love them, hate them, and fear them. And now you know why I'm okay with my daughter's affinity for Living Dead Dolls. I hope she loves playing with them, and I hope she plays with them so well that they scare her. Because we all know how fun being scared can be.

Must Be the Season of the Living Dead Doll

Halloween preview!!
Let's get in touch with our darkness, shall we?
Here is my beautiful daughter Bea as Inferno.
And here's Ingrid as a duck. Ducks can be very dark, especially if you're 21 months old.
Round here, the ladies of the house take Halloween very seriously. I am possibly more excited about Bea's costume than she is.
I'm going to be a highwaywoman. (photo to come on Halloween)

Our Brush With Near-Fame

Check out the October 21 journal entry for Chip Taylor and Carrie Rodriuez. The "Bea" mentioned three times (who provided bread sticks) and mom Julia is none other than Parthenia and offspring of Parthenia!

As mentioned before, it was a fantastic show.

Getting a little less freaky

Ever notice when you really start thinking about a thing, that you realize that it's been with you all the time? No? Well, that's okay, too. This entry does contain the word "freaky" in it, so maybe I'm alone in this.

I never thought I had a thing about octopuses. I like cats, bears, dogs, wolves, sheep, chickens figure prominently in my life, dragons, etc. But not octopuses really. At least I didn't think so. And then I started pondering the whole freaky octopus sex tattoo. I've toned down the idea so that the woman isn't included in the image. I just want a Japanese style octopus tattoo. I've never thought to tattoo cats, cows, dogs, wolves, or sheep on my body, so why octopuses? Stylistically, they lend themselves well to a moving body. There are many Japanese style images of octopuses.
And here's a few places where they have been popping up in my life:
One of my favorite hair toys in a cheap-o clip I got from CVS, called an Octopus Clip
Tako is one of my favorite sushi. I like ika (squid), too. (For some reason, whenever I like something I want to eat it at least once. What better way to get to know something is to know what it tastes like?)
And there's the whole thing about giant octopuses, and the mythical, mysterious Giant squid and Colossal Octopus. Then again, things that are really big or really small are interesting.

There were others, but I can't remember them. I'm not about to start an octopus fan club, but I'm not adverse to becoming an advocate for an octopus positive world.

Two toasted sesame seeds in a bowl of white rice

Preface: it was a great end to a beautiful day, one of the best concerts I've seen in a while, and Carrie Rodriguez and Chip Taylor are wonderfully kind people.

Went on a date with the husband last night. Had a delicious platter of sushi and glass of sake. Forgot to order octopus (tee hee). Then we met some of the husband's co-workers at Packard's for their bocce league season wrap up party. I admitted to one of his co-workers that I still have Ingrid's placenta in my freezer (gotta do something about that...) I went home early, because we had a new babysitter. An awesome babysitter! Anyway, I stayed up late, and woke up late the next morning.
Went to the farmer's market 1/2 an hour late and set up my table. Had a great time, saw the usual suspects, lamented with many folks about how much we're going to miss going to or working the market. Beautiful weather, made $26, and met lots of nice folks. I even got to give a couple of herbal product schpiels. Later, a woman came up to me and asked one of the hair FAQs I get asked: Is that all your real hair? Yup. "Wow!" She said, "If I could grow hair like that, I'd throw a perm in it and make it nice and straight." Um, uh, yeah. I smiled and nodded. Not even worth it. I took it as some sort of compliment, and wrote what she said since it tickled me so much. Lord bless her and help her.

Went to the toy store with Bea to get birthday presents for her friends. We have 2 parties this weekend. Whew! We missed a harvest party at Meg's sister's farm in Plainfield, but for good reasons. I can't be two places at once, and I was to cook for the bands at our coffee house, gave up on the idea of crock pot curry (or anything else from scratch), and resorted to fine frozen lasagne's from BJ's, salad, breadsticks, and grapes. Went over just fine, and many praised my cooking, or rather my ability to pick out good frozen entrees, and not burn them when I cook them. The concert was great, I got my CD's autographed, heard a chillingly beautiful version of "Angel of the Morning" that took my breath away, adored Carrie Rodriguez's fiddle playing, her cool mandobird playing, and her awesome red boots.

And somewhere in all the fun I realized Bea and I were the only black folks in the entire crowd (at least 250 people). I really hate it when that happens, and it really bummed me out. Not enough to ruin the night, but enough to wish we lived somewhere like Atlanta for the rest of the evening. Alas.