I don’t even eat pig…well, the occasional bacon, but that’s it.
I spent all of yesterday working with my mother on sewing a black dress because I need one for a ritual we women are doing in church next Sunday.
Mom has cued in to the fact that I’m pagan. This fact does not make her happy, since she’s kind of nominally Presbyterian/Christian Science, but she’s being relatively tolerant of it. (Read: She hasn’t ripped my head off about it yet. I think she’s just happy that I’m not an atheist (sp?) like my sister…)
Anyway, I’m trying to explain the ritual (such as it is) to her, and all of a sudden out of the blue she pops off with, “have you killed a pig yet?”
SisterCoyote: “Uh…no? What?”
Mom: “You know, a pig or a chicken…”
SC: “EEW. No, Mom, we don’t do that…”
then spending the next few minutes trying to explain paganism/wicca to my mother (which probably would have gone much better if I hadn’t let drop that we were going to symbolically burn one of the women on Sunday :eek: ). Mom falls silent and continues pinning pieces of fabric to each other, then says,
“Do you suppose God approves of you guys?”
The only response I can come up with that won’t provoke an arguement? “I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”
AAAAARRRRRRRRRGH! I love my mother, but I wish she’d read a book. Or something - I know everything I try and tell her goes in one ear and out the other.
Sheesh.

