But I brought candy. Candy is one of those international languages. Gulab jamun with pistachio and rosewater--very good, and it's what he's used to.
And I said everything twice, the way you're supposed to when propitiating Hindu deities, so you have a chance to catch yourself and correct errors, in case you accidentally pray for the wrong thing.
I'm pretty sure I'm praying for the right thing.
I need to bring home more money. I assume that's going to necessitate either a conventional job of some kind or a lot more tutoring clients. Basketball season has cut my schedule down to a mere five students until the end of February. If I don't find more students really soon, I can't afford to stay in the tutoring business long enough for the basketball players to come back. This is a problem I was not expecting. It didn't happen last year.
I need a day job that does not suck and that won't get too much in the way of my writing. A job that doesn't try to own my soul, that I don't have to bring home with me unless I own it. (Those requirements rule out a return to academia rather decisively.) The day job I have would be fine, if there were more of it. Its equivalent or better--that's how the Wiccan spellwork legal boilerplate puts this kind of thing.
The lotus-footed and the great, he who holds the armies in his hand, he of the sweet tooth who did not look down his trunk at caramel that time when it was all I had for an offering, is invited to remove the obstacles.
If I knew Sanskrit, I'd have some more dignified way to tie it all off than, "Pretty please with pistachio on top."