Ball Mason jars line the walls and counter tops of my home, previously exciting enough without them, but now enhanced by further variety. Armed with the knowledge, jars, and other odd supplies gifted to me by an aunt and uncle I only learned existed in the last five-ish years, I simply cannot put it down. If you give me veggies, I will probably put them in a hot jar. They soak harmoniously, and I am learning from it.

They are colorful, stationary, complimentary, and filled with things loved and grown, packed neatly and encased in sparkling smooth glass. And for some reason, looking at them makes it impossible not to contemplate the things that bring me contentment in an often harsh and uncomfortable life. It’s not like anything is quite so wrong with my life. Dare I say those old words, “I think things are going really well,” are ones I might nearly agree with? I may not have everything at my fingertips, but I certainly am getting somewhere, even if it’s just by playing into some sort of phony-seeming little game, where a few dozen measly pickle jars are hardly detectable in the Jar Fairy’s collectible inventory.

*Duh-dun-nuh-nah! You found a Jar Fairy Jar!*

*You can now carry more jars. Jar Inventory space +20 items*

I mean, yeah, if this is a game, I’m learning how to play. It’s actually kind of fun, and it’s almost like the people around me see me as a well-rounded playable character worthy of strengthening.

“But who’s right for this job, Capp’n?”

“Hmm. Send in Randa.”

“Aye-aye.”

The Viking Witch Randa

Traits: Lunatic

Skills: Jars

I can’t really tell what’s holding my mind together these days.

Oh, that’s right… I am.

I fill the time with projects of peppers and pickles. I clean and shop when needed and asked. I write, and I write, and I write. Or if I’m not writing, I’m sitting at the computer thinking and fantasizing deeply about the stuff I want to write. I might as well be excavating a great treasure (or huge turd, but equally difficult to extract). The music that plays might make men angry; too rich with feminine and psychedelic energy for them to think it will do a lunatic any good. I swept the leaves off of the porch. I made dinners with my husband, using peppers I put in the dirt as pale seeds. I drew a picture. I tidied the things in the fridge. I move. I keep it together. That Other Side, that tries to get me to abuse myself when I feel a bit too ludicrous, is subdued—silently providing the energy for better things. Oh, those harmonious pickles and all of their wisdom. And soon, they’ll be ready for my family and friends.

(Is it rude to ask for the jars back? I really shouldn’t. I have like, 100 normal sized jars in this house right now, most of which are not busy containing pickled vegetables.)

The clouded sky mimics the way I feel most waking mornings, but it doesn’t look nearly as daunting as it did behind the drawn sleeping curtains while I made my observations dehydrated and in pajamas.

We Navigate carefully through that feeling, like the ship we should have navigated more carefully through those dark and shallow waters. Eh, live and learn. You’ll be more careful now.Yeah. That’s what I say, but what I mean is, I’ll try.

And that’s enough, because I have endless chances, and I won’t give up until I am the best me I have ever been.

The Jar-Wielding Lunatic Viking Witch Randa

Traits: Harmonious

Skills: Tries again

I am not finished. Isn’t that beautiful?

^{Friday, September 20th, 2024}

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