"Sacred landscape offers thresholds to sensual secrets,
deep yearnings, and spiraled awakenings that ritual
herbalist Tonja Reichley explores as she moves
through the turas, the holy journey, through ancient
places of Ireland."
Usually, things are spiraring out of control around here. But I'm unclear as to what spiraled awakenings are. Is that when you wake up mummified in your bedsheets? Is it when you've slept on a corkscrew and it hurts like a motherfuck?? Someone help me...
I was discussing this and other abstruse matters relating to the turas when Reggie came over with his mop.
"What are these sexy secrets?" Reggie panted.
"Sensual secrets. And don't forget the deep yearnings."
Right then Carol came over and asked me to draw something on the whiteboard to advertise the program. On seeing Carol, Reggie vigorously moved his mop about, but when she left again, he came back over, eyes narrowed.
"I see how it is," Reggie said. "I'm the real artist around here, but she gives that job to you."
"Well, it is called a whiteboard, after all."
"Come on, I'll help you draw it. You need my help."
"Do I?"
"Just let me know if Carol comes back around..."
We got out the dry-erase markers and I gallantly stepped out of the way as Reggie THE TRUE ARTIST went to work.
"See, you have to make it pop, see how I'm putting down the line here? This is called line quality. And you need to watch how you make your composition, too..."
"Why is your line so shaky? Have you been drinking the Parkinson's juice again?"
"It's called free drawing, man. Don't you know anything?"
Carol popped over, superfrowny.
"What's this? What are you doing, Reggie?"
Reggie thrust the markers at me. "He drew it! I was just giving him advice! Now I'm going outside to pull dem weeds. Anything else, Miss Cahline?"
"But what is this?"
"It looks like Tony Orlando. Holding a microphone. At least I think that's a mic he's holding."
One of the younger staff asked, "Who's Tony Orlando?"
"He sang that Ghost Busters song to cripples," I said. "And if that doesn't give you a spiraled awakening, nothin' will! The end."
"Did you just whisper 'The End'?"
"Shh."
Next Week: Reggie and I make the front page of the papers.
"I see how it is," Reggie said. "I'm the real artist around here, but she gives that job to you."
"Well, it is called a whiteboard, after all."
"Come on, I'll help you draw it. You need my help."
"Do I?"
"Just let me know if Carol comes back around..."
We got out the dry-erase markers and I gallantly stepped out of the way as Reggie THE TRUE ARTIST went to work.
"See, you have to make it pop, see how I'm putting down the line here? This is called line quality. And you need to watch how you make your composition, too..."
"Why is your line so shaky? Have you been drinking the Parkinson's juice again?"
"It's called free drawing, man. Don't you know anything?"
Carol popped over, superfrowny.
(Constructed from memory, having been burned into my brain unwillingly)
Reggie thrust the markers at me. "He drew it! I was just giving him advice! Now I'm going outside to pull dem weeds. Anything else, Miss Cahline?"
"But what is this?"
"It looks like Tony Orlando. Holding a microphone. At least I think that's a mic he's holding."
One of the younger staff asked, "Who's Tony Orlando?"
"He sang that Ghost Busters song to cripples," I said. "And if that doesn't give you a spiraled awakening, nothin' will! The end."
"Did you just whisper 'The End'?"
"Shh."
Next Week: Reggie and I make the front page of the papers.
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