My copy of A Collection of Magical Secrets arrived yesterday, just before M. and I headed to a friend’s house. It inspired a couple of conversations, which provide a window into my strange life:
J.: I can’t believe the fluffy bunny Wicca stuff they’re turning out these days.
Me: What are you talking about? This book comes from 1796.
Me: And it includes a rite to turn yourself invisible by wearing a human rib.
J.: Oh. I guess that’s different, then.
Me: Felix the cat is safe. He’s not all black.
Me: Because this ritual involves killing a black cat and turning him into a spirit familiar.
M.: I know you’re kidding. And if you weren’t, I’d kill you and turn you into a spirit familiar.
Me: There’s a ritual in here for that, too.