How I Owed Three Beers and a Shot of Rum to a Goddess
Well, okay then. You may be wondering about the title on how I lost three beers and a shot of rum to a goddess. No, I didn’t lose a bet, but it sounds like I did. Actually, I won in the grand scheme of things, but the cost of three twelve ounce curls is sort of amusing.
Let me explain.
Hunting Season and Its Insanity

Well, this year we got tags for some of our favorite critters, including antelope or pronghorn. If you’ve ever hunted pronghorn, you know that prayers of desperation can accompany the hunt given how wily and fast those beasts are. Hence three beers and a shot of rum.
For those who have never hunted them, understand that pronghorn are the second fastest land animals on the planet–right behind the infamous cheetah. If you google their speed, you’ll see that American antelope can run up to 61 miles per hour. That’s fucking fast. And they have ways to make sure their off your dinner menu.
Skadi and Beer
So, many of you know that Skadi is my other main go-to god, or in her case, goddess. She’s not as easygoing as Tyr is — at least, not to me. We started our antelope hunt, and sure as shit, she told me she wanted beer if we wanted a successful hunt. Craft beer. Not something beyond ridiculous, but something cool.
Okay, I agreed. We got our first pronghorn. Yay!
Forgotten Promises

Now, I don’t make casual promises, but my memory isn’t always the best. Yeah, I forgot to buy the beer. Mea culpa. I don’t go into town often, and I don’t drink beer. So neither are simple to get where I live. Add that I have a spouse who generally doesn’t drink either. In other words, I do not have much alcohol to offer at home. Hey, I buy cheap, blended red wine for cooking, okay?
So, I come home from going into town to get groceries and I hear the goddess tapping her foot.
Skadi: “Where’s the beer?”
Me: “Uh…”
Skadi: “Seriously?”
A Disaster in the Making
So, our next hunts were a bit of a disaster. We got on antelope three more times and for various reasons, they spooked, the shot was off, or some other problem. It got bad. Really bad.
So, in desperation, I took out a shot of rum from the rum I use to make fruitcake and asked Skadi if she would accept the rum.
She agreed. So, I offered her the rum.
The Next Day…
The next day was the beginning of deer season. My spouse woke me up and told me a buck was on our property. I went out there, and after losing the buck for a bit, found him behind me. I shot and he landed in a place where we could get to him. My spouse, incidently, was late to work helping me dress out the buck.
Our deer hunting went stupidly fast and within three days, we had filled all our deer tags.
“Remember the beer,” Skadi said.
Three Beers and a Shot of Rum

Now, I ended up in the supermarket in the nearby town, looking over the craft beer in the beer section. Luckily craft beers are a thing around here. So, I looked at them, bewildered, until I saw a winter ale with an obvious reference to snow. The goddess said, “yeah, that one!”
It’s an IPA, which if I recall my brewing, makes it more bitter with hops than regular brews. Perfect.
So, Skadi got the shot of rum already and tomorrow she gets three beers. Yeah, I’m hoping for more successful hunts coming up.
…As long as I remember the beer.
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isn’t just a letter of the Greek alphabet. It’s also what I have.
I presume it’s Omicron because it’s “mild,” although I might argue that “mild” is relative to “in the hospital and intubated.” My spouse could barely get in to see our doctor–forget the county testing and other sites. They’re backed up. The doctor didn’t have enough appointments to see me too, so when the test came back positive, the doctor said I had it as well and treat it the same. Our instructions were explicit: 10 day quaratine and don’t go to the hospital unless you’re damn near dying.
In all fairness, I guessed my spouse had it even before he took the test. I also knew that I was exposed to it via him, so I was screwed. It proved to be Omicron in symptoms, which means I’ve had next to no energy to do much, let alone write.
As a semi-knowledgable herbalist, you’d think I’d grab whatever dried shit I concocted and douse myself with it. Nope. Nope. Nope. I’ve ignored the ancestors’ meds and went straight to Tylenol, Musinex, and whatever else makes sense. My brain fog is real, which means I can’t even ponder what might make me feel better in the herbal realm. Instead, I’ve relied on 21st Century medicine, because that’s how I roll.
Right now, I’m pretty angry at the morons who are antivaxxers. They are serving as cesspools in the world’s largest petri dish and you can pretty much bet that these variants use them to multiply and mutate. The fact we’re seeing COVID-19 change so rapidly is because of antivaxxers’ unwillingness to step up and get a vaccination. Sure, the disease mutates in animals and even in those who have breakthrough infections, but this wouldn’t spread so rapidly had there been fewer unvaccinated people.
Fucking freaky. Occasionally the Runes remind me I’m not just screwing around. Like the time when I asked them who was guiding me with the runes and they spelled out Thor’s name and gave me Tyr’s rune.

Although Tyr is my main god, sometimes other gods step into my life in a big way. It’s not uncommon for me to hear from Loki, Skadi, Thor, and Freyja, but lately Freyr has been making himself known. It’s not that Tyr isn’t important–it’s just that Freyr needs to assert himself in my life. If you’ve ever had one god step into your life
his father. Given that the Northern peoples relied heavily on the sea for trade and raiding, it’s little wonder an ocean god would also be considered a god of wealth.
One thing to keep in mind is to pay attention to what the new god or wight has to say, even if they simply show up on your doorstep unannounced. Maybe you don’t have a problem that needs their expertise–yet. Maybe they know something you don’t and are there to help you through something which will be going on in your life. Still, other gods simply show up uninvited because you’ve piqued their interest for some reason.
After another exhausting day of handling baby goats, I’ve decided that any Heathen who gets goats isn’t right in the head (including myself). For this reason, I submit the Five Reasons Why Heathens Should Not Own Goats. Ready? Let’s begin… [