Toughie. After the last rabbs tree frog, i.e. rare and touchy and potentially last of his species. Known for holding the thought of getting laid by his kind for 14 years of mating calls that went unheard. His blog name. If needed.

Today was not for thoughts about Toughie, though I do believe it worked to take my mind entirely off work and onto him rather feverishly yesterday as a way to prepare myself for today. It put me in the right vibrational register to work some magic. Today was for my new priest. We met ALONE finally, not mediated through Nebraska.

[Aside: I do wonder if my attempts to make his life as caresfree as I could only made Font feel cornered 🤔. If I were younger and more reckless, I might have tried to catch a frog on the down low over that feeling 🤔 No, hahaha, I would have punched it right in the face, just like I am doing right now, not snuck a frog. But that's a personality difference -  cornered is still a fucked up thing to have to feel, regardless.] [Sorry? 🤷🏻‍♀️]

The priest understands my position. He told me that since he began the medical humanities program as its first appointed chair, each time he has needed a specific kind of help, "Jesus lowers a basket with what I need in it. I needed exactly you, and then there you were." Not everyone would prefer to have a boss who does their performance reviews with Jesus. But I do. I know his mama from the block. 

devon cole - w.i.t.c.h  a work of art is a man's body to me, the space between the hip bones, fuzzy south of belly button territory, simmer simmersimmer - if I only landed today, nothing else ever happens between us, Toughie's torso was just what I needed to get in the magic mood to strike (just what I needed, and there it was 🙏)