Well, that's what I plan on doing! Lughnasadh (or Lammas, they're both fun names), is known at the first harvest festival, and one of the Pagan Sabbats! The other two harvest Sabbats are Mabon and Samhain (also known to mundanes as Halloween). You can celebrate by honoring gods of the harvest, or even by cooking a hearty meal!
Lore and I decided to go shopping.
Pushing the cart is all I am good for.
We hit the Tom Thumb across the street, and Lore, the resident Kitchen Witch, made a killing in savings. She saved $50 (currency USD) in groceries, bringing down our total into the $130s. After bagging it all up to take home... well. It was rather obvious that we wouldn't be able to carry this all home. We had walked, and since we're bus people, we didn't have a car to load it all in.
Another tally in the “Should I buy a car” debate.
So, we started back home with the cart, like we usually do. When we're done taking in the groceries, we take the cart back, like good, honest little witches. We started on our way down the parking lot, around the store to head to our apartment that was literally across the street.
It was then that we saw the moon. It was a thin crescent, and a deep crimson red that hung in the sky.
Lore and I are perfectly capable of describing the moon in a more romantic manner, such as what I had done above. Instead, this is the gold we come up with:
This comment would do nothing to help someone's view on witchcraft.
We started laughing about our amazing skills in language manipulation, but that's when an old man started calling after us. Parked right in between us, were what Lore so eloquently called--
--watching the whole conversation unfold.
“You can't take the cart,” The old man stated.
“...We've taken it before,” I stated, trying to sound cordial.
“Well, you can't take it now.” And he wrapped his hand on the other end of the cart. I felt a strange spike of uncomfortable... something... welling up within me. He had his hand on my stuff! And he wouldn't let go! Admitted it wasn't my cart, but!
“We don't have a car, and we can't carry all this stuff.” I started trying to negotiate with him.
“Sorry,” He replied. And yet, he wasn't offering a solution?
“Can we just leave our ID at the customer service desk or something?” I finally gritted out, staring him down.
“That's what I was saying--” Boy, no you were not! “--to do. Go ask someone if you can take it. I mean, I don't care, but...”
If you didn't care you wouldn't of stopped us, I thought, but I figured that he more meant, “I could care less if you take this cart but someone higher up on the chain might.” Except that we've already done this before! And no one saw us but him!
And those old ladies were still watching us!
We headed back to the store, and Lore headed off to go see if she and I could take the cart while the man waited with me outside.
Awkward silence ensued.
“...You know,” he finally began as we waited, “Maybe next time you should do this before you decide to take the cart.”
...Was he lecturing me?
“Sod off,” I uttered, tapping my nails impatiently against the plastic handle of the cart. With my manicure taken off, there was no satisfying tap to accompany them. The old man looked at me.
I know you heard me. I opened my mouth again to repeat myself, but by that time Lore came out, and the man's attention turned to her. He started walking away as Lore stated that we were able to take the cart, and I sat and fumed, hoping I could find it in myself to laugh it off before I drop-kicked the old fart. My patience was thin this week after some quarreling with my mother, so I was really, really, not in the mood.
But we made it back to our house safely... and with food! And Lore took the cart back.
The moral of the story is:
“In today's foolish world, patience is no longer a virtue, but a necessity.”