Y'all may refer to me as "Your Majesty" from here on out.

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Empress Andy the Prohibited of Lesser Wobbleton Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Just so you know. No more of this "young man" or "miss" crap, got it? This title is so good it makes me wish I had the talent to write a story about it. I have an inordinate fondness for weird British place names (I'm still thrilled that when I met Winter I was staying in a place called "Splott." No, really.)

And yes, that's how I'm celebrating Ostara (otherwise known as the spring Equinox). Wasting time with goofy memes, surfing the Endicottwebsite and pining after the complete works of Theodora Goss and the entire catalog of the Small Beer Press. An Empress should have a library worthy of her glory, preferably full of interstitial fiction, and comic books. It's a slightly odd equinox today; I feel like reading strange vaguely gothicpunk novels and listening to macabre folk music on Pandora Radio. It's tornado weather outside, or it would be if I were back home in the midwest. I've spent all day looking at the gathering clouds and realized I actually miss tornado weather. You can be cavalier about twisters when you grow up in Tornado Alley; we used to crack open a beer, sit on the front porch and watch them loom on the horizon, then go duck and cover if they got too close. It's like playing chicken, but with your house, I guess.

Anyway, I'm one of those boring, practical pagans, and my ritual for the holiday will mainly be cleaning my place with intention, getting all the crap and chaos out of my life, literally and figuratively.