JOURNAL

The past two days have swirled like a tempest in my cauldron.

My dear husband is preparing to vanish on a week-long business quest, so I’ve been bustling like a kitchen witch on the sabbath—aligning all the mundane stars before his departure. Both our enchanted chariots have fallen under mechanical hexes, and while his vessel undergoes its healing rites in the shop, we’ve borrowed a neighbor's steed. I despise relying on borrowed magic—so he’s been my personal broom-driver these past few moons.

Finding a trustworthy mechanic in this realm? Nearly as rare as dragon’s breath on a spring morning.

Between spinning spells for my website, I conjured a fresh loaf of hearth-warmed bread, tucked new herbs into my garden’s soil with whispered blessings, and scribbled a scroll of to-dos that could rival any grimoire. He's off at the witching hour—4 AM sharp.

Today’s potion of errands was brewed with intention: three council meetings, a ritual visit to the bank, the post office, an adjustment by the bone-mender (chiropractor), and a quick foraging run through the grocers.

At last, I’ve reclaimed my spot at the altar of keys and screen—ready to let creativity rise with the moonlight.

Catch you next time my witchy friends.