My Cancer Moon would love nothing more than to feed the world. Every chance I have, I will find a way to entertain or immediately volunteer to bring assorted munchies. I take pride in my just knowing what ingredient works with a dish, and love to add that unforgettable twist to an already crowd favorite.
So now we have me, 20 some year old bride. (we new brides always seem to have something to prove in our kitchens…. a competence in our new role) I lived in some apartments that over looked the Bronco Stadium in Denver. I could see the East stands, that was about it, but you could here the roar of the crowds as the team delighted and the more often groans in those days, as the team once again gave it away. For those familiar with Denver, I was a Federal and Colfax… So, as soon as I unpacked the wedding gifts and found my new kitchen gadgets, I was open for business. First attempt, my family…. my mother, sister and her husband, brother and my niece.
The invitations were sent out for a football half time party. We would watch the TV and could hear the game coincide with the cheers outside. I was more concerned about the meal coming up. Homemade chili, bratwurst, and rootbeer floats. The floats a success with my 3 year old niece! Yay! And everyone got a bowl of the chili and then that was the focus of the halftime… I should be thrilled, right? The conservation started by asking just what it was…. my eyes still squint and an Elvis lip snarl cross my face now just remembering. I said, “why it is chili”…. um, no one agreed. They instead all said something to the effect of, this is great, but it is not chili.
Do I learn? Do I go for instructions? Nah, too many Cardinal signs in my chart… I am going to be the great Chili conquistador. I then subject all my beloved friends to what I believed chili should be…. I would dress it up with names like, Vegetable chili, or Aromatic smoked chili…. same responses, it was good….. but it is not chili. I didn’t give up. I tormented my children with volunteer chili suppers at school, to be told how good it was, but it wasn’t chili.
The Beans!!! that had to be the answer! I tried black beans, pinto beens, pink beans, heck lets throw in some garbanzos….. still that ain’t chili. Maybe the peppers were the problem… hablanos, jalapenos, verde… didn’t matter, I wasn’t getting any closer to chili. They were starting to make family jokes around me and my inability to make chili.
20 years of torturing those I love and I finally caved in and bought a pre-packaged chili mix… just add hamburger. I have been using that trick, and others now will say, the chili was good…nothing fantastic, but what it did allow for was the time to pursue my true love, pastry. So, I can admit, it is finally chili and then turn and fuss over the KeyLime tartlettes and the delicate crust of my fresh raspberry linzer cookies… and never hear, it is good, but it is not chili.
I thought of this true story to blog when recently there has been a push, in a place I have always considered to be family, to do away with traditional Horary. Instead, some members would rather read a chart as an event chart or as a transit chart. A few examples have been brilliant. But Horary is almost a game…. it is getting A and B together or apart using other planets and rules for bank shots (trans of light) or to prohibit by jumping between planets, a celestial pool game. All I know, the readings non traditionally being given are good, but they ain’t chili.