West of the moon.

Psyche in the air. Boreas never really minds when he winds.

Necessitas.

Another mess-terpiece. The goal was to bulk up my slender collection of recognizables, so I started with Zeus and ended with Ananke. Who the hell knows Ananke? Me and a handful of mythology professors the hell do. So, it's fated to unravel. Mwah. Inside joke. Also, I think my HB's were balking at what is essentially a glorified rape. "Stick to ruffles and rodentia," they say. And I spin them on their heads.

Morning routine.

mullberry rouge from Persia--2 gold pieces

Black Sea kohl (Medea's speciality)--one shorn ram

age defying appleseed oil from the Hesperides--5 rattlesnake tails

UV-blocking balm (Heal-ios Inc.)--one amber necklace

membership to Atlas Gym--12 wool blankets

hair brightener--courtesy of Midas

making your wishes count--priceless

Please'er with a tweezer.

Tithonus and the first stray gray.

Have cradle, will rock.

I've had infants on the mind, what with the arrival of the vandebaby, so more Zeus.

There's the familiar legend of Amalthea, the she-goat who nursed Zeus (holding off on all Last Unicorn references), but there were two lesser-known attendants--completing the naiad triad of maiden/mother/crone. I forget their names, of course. The mythology places them all in a cave, but a tree also figures prominently, and because branches are easier than caves, here you have it. Plus, I like the idea of the little Thunderer dangling over all--a "zeus" ex machina, if you will--it works better, artistically.

Anyway, I think it's been proven that a god hanging from a tree is the lasting image.

Ai!

The Curetes. Stationed under Zeus' crib (hung in the branches of a tree so Mad Pappy Cronus could find him neither in heaven nor on earth), they would clash their weapons and shout to mask the baby's cries, foiling the Search and Destroy. Thus the king-elect was weaned from his surrogate goatmam: amidst the clatter of acorns, spearpoints, and warcry lullabyes. Pretty badass.

Also the new (first?) ex libris for the Livingston household.

Pop!

(With the littlest vdv in mind.)

Zeus came to the lovely Alkmene in the guise of her husband and made the night last three days--thus Hercules was conceived. Unwilling to sit spectator to the grooming of yet another of the Thunderer's lordly by-blows, Hera did what she does best--vowed vengeance. When the human queen went into labor, Hera and her Lovely Arms bade Eiliethyia go to the palace of Alkmene. Once there, the goddess of childbirth sat at the doorstep with her hands wrapped about her knees, preventing delivery. Only the quick thinking of the queen's handmaid Galinthias saved the day. She rushed out crying the birth of a boy, causing the goddess to unclasp her hands in surprise and allow the birth. Accordingly, the angry Eiliethyia rewarded the girl's wits by turning her into a weasel.*

*a creature that was thought to give birth to its young through the mouth.

Athena of the Puffed Cheeks.

More Marsyas. And finally a link to the actual story.

There was some howling and pitching once I realized it was the Olympians that made fun. But after a furious scramble and a last minute costume change, the coterie of nymphs I'd arranged for her was tranformed into godlings. Smallish and scrawny, but I liked the idea of their younger selves sporting in the predawn. As in dawn of times. After the war with the Titans. When there was an abundance of abandoned...lumber.

Hera's the one in pink. Standing over the others with the makeshift birds on her dress. Peacocks, damn it.

Demeter's in the gardening sack. Dirty hands and feet.

Aphrodite's in back. I hadn't the temerity to try her face. No one should.

Artemis is the little one. Dark eyes, slavering chops.