Ceramic Cuties

This is Cat's Plate and is named after my great-niece, Cathryn. I love calicoes, so I started making these little plates with a bit more color. Each one is food safe- 2-leggers or 4-leggers will be styling when using them.

Got Business? Well then, you need a business card holder.

And if you know your cat breeds?... Scottish Fold here.

White 'kittehs' have a genetic problem if both of their eyes are blue- most likely they are deaf. So I made sure this little fella will be at your beck-and-call. Meow baby!

And kittehs with black spots about their noses are nicknamed "Kittlers" for obvious reasons.

It was a great sale. Please excuse the lack of text entry, I is so tired... It's time to put this little 'ol potter to bed. I guess if I post tiny bits, we may be done with this story by Christmas...2008.

I 'Runneded' Out of Day

Whew! My "To Do" list- it has me. I had planned to catch up the blog today. A short note, though, to let visitors know 'she lives' is all I have time for. It has been a time of wonders since I last posted. His Wonders. I have so much to tell. Umm, this time that's not a tease. I sold something on Etsy and last weekend's sale was monetarily fabulous.

And speaking of fabulous, having a Mac is just that. I loves my "Tavish". (as in MacTavish...sorry) The ease of operation amazes me. You must realize, however, that I was not a real techie with a PC. I had no formal training, except at the University of Whoops. So it isn't difficult to get used to another operating system when you really don't have anything to forget. (lol)

Tomorrow. I promise. And with pictures.

BVD Post

As in 'brief'. Just wanted to check in, as I know there are several sweet people who do read this blog and care enough to wonder where Shaungrl is. All family and friends (4-legs or 2-legs) are fine and healthy. I am trying to get ready for a large pottery sale come September. The maid, gardener, and cook have all refused to come to work. Therefore, it falls to me to attend to these common, far beneath me, domestic chores. One simply cannot find reliable help these days... ;)

I have, ahem, purchased a Mac-mini. It is still in its very little box. Apparently the CD burner on my old PC has never worked, and I can't save my pics or docs to a CD. Leave it to this wonder kid to, yet again, purchase a product (Plextor) that has bad reviews by other consumers. It has a flaw that makes it NOT recognize a blank CD ready for burning. And since the warranty has long expired and I am about to switch to a Mac- no way am I going to buy another burner.

Having said that- the good news is that Apple stores will transfer data from PC tower to Mac-mini in their store. ( and there was much rejoicing) I am taking tower and list of items in need of transfer to the Southlake store today.

Oh. I also have a "whooping" good secret to share...later. To all who stop by by: blessings from the Father. Take good care in the heat and stay hydrated. Texas finally got to Summer with +100º. I know other places have been there for months. Be careful. Talk with you on the other side of the computer change-out. I hope I will be happy to say I'm a 'switcher'. TTFN

Feet Of Clay

I usually use 'I'm in the Studio' as the excuse for not blogging. And while that is the favorite in the race, my computer has decided to run for the roses, too. Apparently, this computer is old, tired and full. Hmmm...I resemble that remark.

My backdoor neighbor came over to check it out. He gave me the bad news: to fix it would mean as much money as a brand new set-up. I can't not justify buying a PC. that will just do. When I told him what I did on the computer- photo editing, blog, surfing clay sites, original art tweaking/printing and not much else. I don't do gaming or video. He suggested a Mac and I'm seriously thinking about it. This thought will have to hold for quite a while. I priced them and $1000-$2000 is what the package would be. That's fine, I'll wait. But whilst I wait, every site I visit loads like s-l-o-w-d-i-a-l-u-p, I have mid-speed DSL. And I can type faster than the words appear on the screen. Uh.. I type about 45 WPM, with lots of errors- that is slow. It takes several seconds for the window to even try to go to the site. ARRRGH.

Now, on to the pics. The first is a test leg where I used pottery clay as if it were polymer clay. I found the most clever artist. Her name is Christi Friesen and she works exclusively in polymer. She has several small, but full color books. It's The CF Sculpture Series: #1 Dragons, #2 In the Jungle, #3 Under the Sea, #4 (just out) Cats: Big and Small. She allows people to make similar projects if you make your pieces with three obvious changes- to get around copyrights. Christi wants to teach about polymer clay but doesn't want exact copies of her work being sold for profit. Fair. Actually, that's more than fair and extremely generous of her.

I will be making my variations of dragons, frogs, cats, and jungle leaves but in Stoneware clay fired to full temperature. I won't be coloring the clay before forming, but actually painting it-and not glazing-with a technique called "dry-brush". The sculpture will be painted with acrylic black paint and then colors will be stencil-brushed on. Each color built up slowly, giving the piece true depth. I am so excited about this new chapter in the big book of artistic me.

The next pic is version two of a leg for Wall Hangers- the froggie years. I made three prototypes, then realized that they were too intensely textured. Oops. Changes even as I'm creating.

I will be posting the new line as I finish and approve the results of each piece. I hope you will enjoy the new potted me...er, the new pottery.

Bowling For Dollars

Click on any of the pics to see a close-up.

On Friday and Saturday, July 6th and 7th, the Texas Pottery and Sculpture Guild held its annual Christmas In July Sale. On Friday evening we offer a lovely spread of fruit, cheeses, crackers and the most important ingredient in a 'meet the artist' evening- wine. So, it seems- to me, at least- that the more freely the wine flows, the more freely the sales flow. It was a very nice sale and very nice weather- no rain. I haven't tallied my sales sheet, yet. But from what I remember seeing go out the door, I think it went very nicely for moi as well.

I had already posted the whimsical side of my claying and those peices were handbuilt. Above are some wheelthrown bowls that I did for the sale. I sold the third one and the others will be listed on Etsy. The frog bowl is food safe, even with all the details and sells for $73. The sunflower bowl has a tiny surprise hidden beneath the rim- a cute colorful ladybug and this bowl sells for $31.

Help! My Whimsy Has Escaped

Click on the pics to view close-up.

Just who doesn't love a kitty? (you are excused from this post if you raised your hand) I decided that since I have two kittles of my own, and I'm also a potter that...Hmmm, maybe, just maybe, I could combine these two l♥ves? And then, since I have a dearie of a niece who collects frogs- why not green critters. Oh. Let's throw a puppers onto the whimsy pile, too. (Sheep collectors, stay tuned.)

This weekend is the "Christmas in July" pottery sale with the TPSG. I will be, along with 29 other clay artists, at the Ft. Worth Community Arts Center. The sale is Friday and Saturday. A "Meet and Greet" reception, complete with wine and cheese, will be held Friday evening. Anyone in the D/FW area is invited, and there is no charge to park or enter the event.

I will have the usual selection of bowls, serving plates and vases that are well received. But these pics show the fork in the clay path I have just taken. The Cat Box still needs curly wire whiskers to be threaded through on the top. And the interior is glazed and food safe so,-as are the plates- it will hold kitty nom-noms. I am doing the dance of happy around the kiln. And, yes (ahem), they are "For Sale". I have no shame...but I does have bills. ;)

Kiln Kissed

The "Smoochie" has been through the refiners fire. I am pleased with the results. He/she will be packaged in the gable box with holes punched at the top. I'm trying for the just-home-from-the-pet-store look.

I have a thing about the packaging presentation of a product. Sometimes my ideas work and sometimes the word "flop-a-rama" describes my attempts. These boxes are extremely inexpensive when purchased in 100 lots. A major plus is that they come folded. I am running out of room to stuff pottery, bubble wrap, mailer boxes, tote boxes to carry to sales, outside sale shelving, and the general wrapping supplies. Whew!

So, I'm off to clay some more. I will post pics sometime next weekend after the sale. I just unloaded a wonderful kiln firing. The Dance of Happy is now going on...ouch.

Just Claying Around

Clay. That's what the menu selection has been for a couple of weeks now. I thought I would enter a few lines to let you know that all is well. I have a show/sale the 2nd weekend in July here in Ft. Worth. There will be about 35 artists and just as many styles of work. We have some very talented people in the Texas Pottery and Sculpture Guild (TPSG).

I would like for you to meet a new little critter called a "Smoochie". He will be stained green, 'cause he's a froggie. But his lips will be bright red: ready to give you a smooch. And doesn't he have the cutest little bum? I just couldn't resist a silly backside to match his front. (giggle)

Have a wonderful blessed day. I am going to clay to the sound of rain and view of grey, cloudy sky...One of my most fave kind of days. What was that? Yes, I know how strange I am. Thank you, for the compliment. ttfn (ta ta for now)

Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On

This morning started with the sky doing a sensuous veil-dance with the layered clouds- teasing me with the promise of sunshine. I got up around 6:30- sleeping in with three hungry 'alarm clocks' is almost impossible-to greet the day. Hey, it was 2 hours later than M-F rising time, though. I got the puppers fed and let them out to do what pups need to do in the morning.

After letting the Furkiddos back in, I headed for the shower with Hannah trying to climb in my skin because, just then, a new round of thunderstorms started rolling in. Hannah Ruth (Rotti-X) hates storms. She quivers like a fur-covered earthquake and pants like gigantic bellows which Paul Bunyan, himself, could use to stoke a farrier's fire. And she clings to me as if made of Velcro. I try to be sympathetic, but too much will send an animal into displaying this behavior even more frequently. So it's a fine line of "poor baby- it's alright" and "go away, you're fine".

The weather lady on T.V. started to announce a tornado just 15 miles away. OK...time to get dressed, get on 'real shoes', stuff the kitties in the carrier, put the cellphone in pocket, turn up the volume on the T.V. and get us into the closet or hall. When you live in a mobile home with no place to run or a ditch to jump into- this is the best that can be done. The house is a 2002, so newer tie-downs and wind resistance are built into it. But no house, 'real' or manufactured, will survive a direct hit. If the storm comes from the SW, then we get into the master closet. If, like today, the storm is coming in from the NW, then it's the hallway. The bathrooms have either glass shower-doors or is next to the large appliances. Exactly where you don't want to be in case of a roll-over.

The wind started howling and the trees we do have, were bending. I had opened all the shades to watch the sky for rotation through the sideways sheets of rain. I glanced out the kitchen window and saw a sight that just made me laugh. Neither torrential rain or gale force wind could keep a hummingbird male from trying to sip from the feeder. I say "try" because the feeder was a rockin' and the hummer was shooting past the holes with each attempted sip. He finally took refuge under the porch and landed on a garden-art stake. One shaped just like him and he landed on its 'beak' and remained there for about 25 minutes. That's him in the pic above. I took it through the window, as I didn't want to scare him back into the storm. Poor baby boy. He works hard for the 'honey'. (Actually, sugar, but honey fit better there. Honey is not to be used in feeders.).

All hands, paws and beaks are accounted for, Captain. All the pups are lounging on the bed, asleep. Not-so-little paws doing dream-weaving- maybe chasing big, bad storms away. Now it's just another Spring day in Texas. Sun's out and the birds and butterflies are doing their winged things. And I'm about to do my thing: clay. I need to make pots and platters for a sale in July. A blessed day to all who stop by.

Ch-Ch-Changes

Of course, this is not the same bugger from the pic below. But it does represent who is growing and changing on my little heaping, helping of country life. And how alive it is.

I have had soul soothing field trips almost everyday. My inner-child hasn't stayed buried, she has grabbed my hand and is delightedly pointing out the amazing micro-world going on around me in the prairie grasses. The neighbors have grown-or at least look the other direction-used to seeing the large, strange woman doing her best impression of an ostrich. Head down, peeking through tri-focals to examine the flora/fauna on the up-close-and-personal level. And since my knees are blown from arthritis, I bend over at the waist...uh, and that means the bum goes up. Sorry for that visual. Hey, it has gotten smaller, though. I've lost twenty more pounds since January 1st. This is the main reason for my discovering I have a Butterfly Factory in my yard (and attached to my house) this year: I feel better.

I saw the "J" shaped Monarch caterpillar change into a chrysalis in just 24 hours. Such a fast transition. It went from stripey-undulation to an ethereal (♥ this word), almost other-worldly shape. It really reminded me of a Fairy lantern, as it seemed to have a luminescent quality about it.

I brought the chrysalis in because I saw tiny flies on it, already trying to bore into it and lay their eggs. I figured it couldn't be in any more danger inside. I was careful, this time, not to touch it. I learned humans can transfer a bacteria that will kill the developing butterfly. So, with a little time, maybe I will have a Monarch to show you. I know I could fill this blog with Fritillary butterfly pictures, as there are, at last count, eight chrysalises hanging from the siding of my house. I told you, The Butterfly Factory is in peak production right now. I just hope we don't cause a monsoon down in Central America with all these new flutterings.

"Butterflies are self-propelled flowers." -R.H. Heinlen

I have a thing about bugs. The nice ones. The ones going to turn into butterflies. Now that I live in the country, I actually have my own personal 'Discovery Channel'. I found this little guy munching on milkweed. That makes him a Monarch in training. He's only ¼" long and cute, cute, cute. I'm hoping to find a Monarch chrysalis to keep herd on. I guess I'll add caterpillar wrangler to my resume. Rollin', Rollin' Rollin'...Head 'em up, move 'em out.

Operation: Make a Butterfly- Complete

These pictures bring to a happy ending, the emerging of Jay, a happy, healthy, bouncing fluttering baby boy (girl?). I introduced Jay in the first Operation entry. I did, so, want to see this emerging. I discovered the 102 way to use duct tape with this little guy/gal. And the pic above is just one day before Jay 'hatched' on Sunday the 22nd. His wing lines could be clearly seen through the chrysalis shell.

Just minutes old.

In full 'bloom'. Ain't I purdy?
Jay having his first two o'clock feeding.

"Ben" Here

Hallelujah! Yes, that will be the vein-vine- and branches of this post. So this is a reader alert: If you have a problem with God's name as praise and not a profanation, then this is not the post for you. However, should you want to hear an amazing tale of Abba Father's monetary blessings- please keep reading. I have changed the name of the gift-giver to "Ferdinand".

This morning started out like any other morning- early. I stopped by my Supervisor's shop to drop off flowers that I had pulled from the bed in the front yard. These very hardy Dianthus -they're usually annuals- had not only survived the Winter but had grown into clumps the size of footballs- lovely fuchsia ones.

One of my co-workers, Ferdinand, had requested them for his yard to please his daughter, whose boyfriend's name is "William", and these flowers are AKA "Sweet Williams". Everybody say "aww, how sweet".

I went to my work site after wishing everyone a "Have A Great Weekend" and was doing normal Shaungrl stuff in my shop. The door opened and in stepped Ferdinand. He started walking towards me saying, "You believe in doing what the Lord tells you to do. Right? To do what He lays on your heart to do?" I respond, "of course, always, dude", still thinking this was a lighthearted moment. Ferdinand walks up and hands me a rolled-up, money-colored piece of paper. "Well, the Lord told me to give this to you."

I can tell it has a one and a zero on it. I gasp, though, as I unroll it and there is another zero. "Ben" is sitting in my hand- $100 blessed dollars- no earthly strings attached. All I could do is stammer "thank you and God bless you, too." Ferdinand was already heading to the door. As men usually do a quick exit when women are about to cry uncontrollably, even if it is from joy.

I mentioned "no earthly strings attached". I thought I might need to define my relationship with this co-worker. We discuss things of God and blessings He has given. And also the heartbreaks and trials He didn't keep from us, but that He did shepherd us through. He tells me about his wife and how much she and his family bless him. I am his sister and he is my brother in the family of Jesus. Branches on the same Living Vine.

"Why me?" could be followed with "Why not me?". I don't know why I was the recipient of one-hundred dollars this day. Most employees at the City are in paycheck-to-paycheck status. I have no worse need than others and usually have all the bills covered. While we do talk about godly things, Ferdinand was not privy to an in depth study of my finances. He was just being the vessel through which God chose to pour out blessings. And although I am in a state of wonderment- I am not confused- for I trust God implicitly.

I am privileged to serve a good, loving God, who Is, Was, and Is To Come. Meaning He already knows of and provides for my needs. As to my wants...well. He takes care of me as if I were His only child- I am not compared to anyone else. What one child needs is different than what another needs. He cares more about the content of my character than the comfort of my body. I know I am deeply cherished by Abba Father, even if at times, my comfort level is a bit thorny.(We can complain that roses have thorns or rejoice that thorns have roses.-- Ziggy) And this day He chose to comfort my body even as He always comforts my spirit. Hallelujah! again.

Many Reasons For Not Mowing

The visual aids have developed and they lend support to the no-mow stance I am taking right now. Brilliant yellow dances about in the sun-warmed wind. These flowers and other varieties are blooming profusely in my front and back yards. I've also noticed the beginnings of milkweed- the preferred menu choice of Monarch caterpillars. Diner's open for business.

Jay is developing nicely. I don't know his time schedule, his assistant has yet to call me with the un-draping itinerary. I'm hoping for a Saturday or Sunday morning, as I will be at home those days. An early morning emergence is the norm, according to the websites. Open. Open. Open.

Finding My Wings

I l♥ve the Sound of Spring. Wait. Shouldn't that be Sounds of Spring? No, I think of Spring as a whole package, crafted of layers. Separate- yet, connected with 'audio molecules', at the same time. An ambiance melange. But if I could somehow separate the layers- bird music would always come to the top like cream. A yummy feast for the ears and the soul. And joy calories are the best kind, don't you think.

Hummingbirds twitter-chitter at each other, noisily arguing over feeder rights. Their wings beat incredibly fast and the sound of tiny helicopters comes to mind. The picture below was taken just outside the kitchen window. (The same window that was at the top of the must-have-list when I had my home built.) The sip-meisters waiting to see who blinks first and then...Whirrrrrrrrrrr.



House finches, to my ear, have a most delightful song. I call them my 'redheads'. They are only here for a short while in the Spring, as it must get too hot in this area for nesting and baby raising. I have them at my work yard, now, and when Autumn arrives, they'll be singing again.

A couple of years ago, there was a sweet couple who would visit me, inside my workshop. The little male would fly in the front door and sing, brightly, for his lady to join him. And in she would fly. The first time it happened, I thought they would panic and fly about in distress. No, not at all. They did it several times that Spring. It was their concert, conducted by the Great Maestro, just for me.

Operation: Make a Butterfly

Sweet Mother of Pearl. What is that? That's my happy solution in the trying-to-grow-a -butterfly saga. Last Saturday, snow was on the Texas weather menu and caterpillars don't do well in possible freezing temps. I couldn't bring it in and I was fresh out of teeny-tiny parkas. Duct tape and a faucet cover sufficed nicely. And the elevation in property value...priceless.

I discovered Jay or Jaynette on Friday, April 6th. The little orange and black striped 'cat' was rippling along the siding. I thought- aw, wouldn't it be neat if it were about to make a chrysalis. Bingo.

About an hour later I found it in the "J" position, hence the original name. Apparently, this is butterfly lingo in the Entomologist world. The best I can tell from fuzzy pics on butterfly sites, is that it is some type of Fritillary.

Butterflies are treasures at my house. I love to watch them dance through my property bringing Spring on their wings. Last year, I had a Monarch hatch from my porch railing and I let the Milkweed re-seed itself.

I'll keep posting updated pics as he/she develops. Hopefully, I will be on hand for the unveiling.

This is just an hour after noticing it wandering about.

This was on Wednesday the 11th.

Platter Up!

My parents can not be blamed for this. The name they chose to be my middle name is not 'procrastination'. Ask my friends, and they will tell you my chant for the last year has been, "I'm going to start selling my pottery on the Internet".

TA-DA! *Clarion sounds* I am pleased to announce I have, finally, set up an account on Etsy. This site provides a venue for the crafter/artist to show their wares without overhead and very small fees per listing. I have opened the virtual doors to my store: bogshaunproductions. While the platter above is the only listing, so far, I have many more pieces to list. I am not so techie when it comes to uploading, counting pixels and fitting images- so it is a chore. Whoa Moma, my head hurts- but I did get to cross this off The-Weekend-To-Do-List... dodging roses (not veggies), drunk on the applause- she exits the stage.

A New Beginning and Happy Easter

As this is Easter, which is the paragon of all renewals, I thought it would be a fine time to introduce a new feature here. Jesus gave me my 'new' on July 16, 1983 and I have never been the same. I am blood blought, cleansed and forever adopted into the Kingdom of God. I know Whose I am and that makes me a Daughter of the Most High, adopted and never to be forsaken by the Father.

So I will be calling this new feature, "Daughter of The Most High Moments" or "DoTMHM". I hinted at these moments in my profile by calling them "Abba loves His daughter moments". This idea comes from Clare at Three Beautiful Things. She is kind enough to allow anyone to copy her idea: blogging three things, daily, which bring you pleasure. I don't know if I can do anything, everyday, on a blog. I shall attempt to convey the wonder I feel when I come across a thing, person, or event that causes me to pause. Prepared just for me, just for that moment and just so I would notice His "I-♥-You-Daughter" whisper. So I will do my best to give you accounts of these moments, as they bless me deeply, and I would love to share Him with you.

And I want to wish each and every visitor a Blessed Easter. May His life shine for you and through you. Thanks for stopping by. (And wishing you ch♥colate)

Feathers Were Flying: A Tale of Almost Tragedy

Oil and Vinegar. Shake them together and they combine to make a fab salad dressing. I can say, with surety, that you don't get the same results when shaking together a kitty and a hummingbird.

Yesterday dawned bright, albeit, very chilly. About mid-morning, while I was about my weekend chores, I bopped down the hall into the kitchen. Finch, my striped kitty, was hovering over something on the throw-rug (sometimes throwed-up on rug). This is usually where he and his sissie, Enoki, come to spit out their awesome buggy prey so that I might 'ooh and aah' repeatedly. I also murmur silly statements to them, alluding to the greatness of their hunting abilities.

I started to say- "Oh, Finchers, what a good kittles. Such a mighty hunter". Huh?! It's newly Spring. Nothing in the Bugworld has had a chance to grow that large...NOOOOOOOOO. Finch has a hummingbird. I begin to scream hysterically, as I am seeing one of my favorite things in the process of eating another one of my favorite things.

Of course, wrong. Wrong to scream. Finch streaks down the hall, with bird in mouth, and disappears under the bed like a rabbit down a hole. I hit the floor next to the bed, still doing my best impression of Linda Blair. He spits out, what I think is, the poor little carcass. I gather it gently in my hands, all the while weeping and wailing- "I'm sorry birdie, Oh, poor little girl"- over and over again. I'm, now, sobbing in meltdown mode.(don't ya love being pre-menopausal?)

I start to inspect the catspit soaked little body. Astonishingly, she flies out of my hand and begins to orbit, wildly, about the room. I get all the Furkids out of the bedroom, closed the door and shut off all light sources. She finally landed on the wall vent. I gingerly plucked her- oh, such a rapid tiny heartbeat. But it was beating. I held her for a few seconds, hoping to see if she was leaving any blood trailing on my fingers. Amazingly, there was none! I went outside and opened my hand. The little girl whirred, strongly, off into the sky. I thought I would never see her again, as she would probably go off and die. A casualty of 'kitties doing what kitties are wired to do'.

Well, I am happy- ecstatic- to show you a picture taken just three hours later. Daniella, named after the Biblical Daniel, was sitting fluffing in 'her' tree. I know it's her because of the white markings on her wings. Apparently, she had landed on the patio string-lights, near where Finch was napping. She didn't see him until it was too late. I found feathers and scratch marks where Finch got at her after knocking her off the wire. I also know that she doesn't come near the patio anymore, and Finch can't get to the tree. She's there, right now, trying to plump up against the 40º (Spring!!) temperature. But about the temperature- that's another story, entirely.

Daniella: "The Survivor"

Finch: "The Lion"

The Rain, The Park and Other Things

Brrr. Spring sprung, but who turned down the outside thermostat? All the grass (weeds) were drenched in dew, and the ethereal mist was rising from the meadow in the crisp 50º morning air.

I am happy to say that we had nearly 3" of rain on Friday. I am also happy-as are my neighbors-that I got to mow last Wednesday before it rained. Well... I 'kinda' mowed. I am of the opinion that the countryside needs wildflowers- even if said countryside is actually a lawn. If you mow before they bloom, you then miss out on the flowers' awesome petal power. And they won't re-seed. So I partially mowed my ¾ acre, leaving two large areas to bloom. You may call me "Dances With Butterflies", too, as newly arrived Monarchs swirled and twirled all around me while I mowed.

And speaking of arrivals...sound of announcement trumpets, please...The Hummingbird Channel began its broadcasting yesterday at 8:30 am. I think I may have the rare 'Capistrano' hummingbird, though. I looked on last year's calendar notation...March 31, 2006. Yep, same day last year. Must be very tiny watches, with date function, they be wearing.

I mentioned it was a bit chilly this morning, but I did not let that stop me from having a Fruit Smoothie for breakfast. My regular readers know that I am trying to get healthy (also, ahem, smaller). I have acquired a habit- a good one this time. Breakfast. I developed a recipe that I think is yummy. It can be adjusted to accommodate different fruits and flavors. Silken Tofu can be used instead of Firm. I use firm because I like the mouth-feel it gives the Smoothie and then I always have the right kind for cooking, as well. Nutrition facts says "serving size is five per container". It's just so much easier to divide it into four even servings. I keep a glass in the freezer, at all times, in which to pour the ambrosia.

Fruit Smoothie ala Shaungrl

• ¼ of 14 0z tub Tofu (firm)
• ¼ C. Water
• 3 TB Powdered Milk
• 1 Banana OR 1 serving of another fruit
• Sweetener to taste (I used 2 tsp Splenda)
• 8 or so Ice cubes

Blend all ingredients, except ice, at highest speed in a blender until smooth. Add ice, and again blend until smooth. Pour into chilled glass. If you like Peanut Butter and Chocolate together- 1 TB of both Peanut Butter and Cocoa Powder (unsweetened) can be added to the above.

That's my ♥fave♥: PB-Chocolate-Banana. This morning it was Chocolate-Banana-Sugar Free Hazelnut Syrup. But Pear-Vanilla Syrup-Cinnamon might just nudge into top billing, though. I had that Friday morning and was delighted by the combo. I use both the Da Vinci and Torani syrups- it only takes a splash. They have many wonderful flavors (sugar free, too) and can be found at World Market, Central Market Wal-Mart, Kroger, etc. and on-line. Watch out for on-line, though, shipping is quite expensive. Cow-a-bunga, dude (or dudette)...Slurp's Up!!

Easter @ The City- A Hoppin' Good Time

There are several elements to the Underwater Easter Hunt that I help with. The kids swim/wade in the teach pool to catch the floating eggs. The kids also get a chance to have their picture taken with E.B. It's made into a photo button while they wait. I designed the backdrop and basket where they sit for the pic. The chocolate bunny and 'peeps' are new this year. I love making things that babies will enjoy and squeal over. Makes me squeal, too. I love happy babies.

The Cabbage Patch is a photo op for the parents to take pictures. The 'dirt' is made from burlap bags. Real dirt in a pool filter does not make it happy, nor the Aquatics Supervisor. The cabbages are made from rags soaked in diluted paint and with shadowing added. I have to make all the props a wee bit water resistant, considering the event locale.

The flags across the pool are just the normal orange meet-flags with added yarn greenery and they make dandy 'carrots'.

Snacks are handed out and also carnival games set up, with small prizes given to all contestants. I thought that hungry bunnies might need a snack, too. The game is painted on a sheet of plywood, with holes cut for mouths and I made beanbag carrots out of orange washcloths. The kids toss the carrots through the mouths and the bunbuns are very hoppy.

We have to celebrate the secular version of Easter because of the government sponsorship. I know that Jesus is the Reason for this Season, too. And I am able to slip in art references that point straight to Him. No one, unless they're given the inside scoop, knows about them. I can still honor the One who gave me my talent and my salvation. Most Eggs-cellent, I'd say.

Easter Pics- Carrot Flags and Carrot Toss

Easter Pics- Cabbage Patch

Easter Pics- Photo Button Area

Easter Pics- Photo Button Area Close-up

Easter Sweets

In a previous post, I asked if you could guess what my project was to become as I prepared decorations, for the Underwater Easter Egg Hunt. I am pleased to post the "After" shots, as the finished sweets came out deliciously cute. The 'Peeps' are made of papier-mâchè and chair-cushion foam layered together on a ballon. The bunny is built up on a foam core board, with expandable house foam, chair-cushion foam and, then, sculpted with papier-mâchè. The chocolate is brown Silicone® caulk and the other colors are, as well. All in all, I'm very pleased with the results. Whoa Moma Cottontail! Oh, how I wish those were real chocolate bunny ears, and that I didn't have diabetes...sigh.

The 3 Stages of Puppy Love

Stage 1. Brand-spanking new baby, tag still attached.
Stage 2. Baby shows a wee bit of wear- I mean love.
Stage 3. Oh baby. Loved to pieces- literally. And next:

Barucha, the culprit *lover* with her sweet baby-face. Pure contentment.

Almost 2½ Months Old

Morgan is just one big pile of smile. She kicks and squeals upon seeing big bro or sis. And they are most delighted with this show of recognition. They have been helping Mom with the baby chores with no prompting and this always makes for a wonderful arrangement. Sweet babies, all around. So says the besotted great-Auntie who emits a great big aww-sigh, punctuated with a silly crinkled-up nose.

Melange

I've been told that a writer must use the first sentence of an article or book as the 'dangling carrot' by which to capture a reader's interest. I started this post five times trying to pen that perfect sentence. As you can see (or not see because you stopped reading) this was the best to be had. You almost got: "This is the first sentence." (groan)

As the title implies, melange is what you will get today. I have so many topics because of the non-writing status I have been in. The first topic will be, in fact, that melange is one of my favorite words. The next puppers of undetermined origin just might get this moniker.

I put out the hummingbird feeders yesterday. It is a bit early here in North Central Texas by about 10-15 days, but I am impatient for The Hummingbird Channel to resume its broadcasting.

A couple of weeks ago, I received my 20 year pin at the Parks Department. Whoohoo!! I may complain, at times, about small unimportant situations and let them bother my head more than I should, but I know am blessed to have my job. I still shake my head in wonderment when I think about being the Park Sign Technician for a city of nearly 200,000 people. Since I was born and raised in Irving- it's kinda the-hometown-girl-makes-good scenario. There are certain times of the year, though, that I delight in going to work. Christmas and Easter are at the top of the list.

The pics are of Easter decorations that I am working on now. (I will post their finished state later, but can you guess what they will be?) They will be used as background decorations at the Underwater Easter Egg Hunt held at the North Lake College Natatorium. Is is sooo cute to watch the little kids splash and dash to get those floating eggs. It is held in the "teach pool" and the children are grouped by ages, so no big kids with the bitty ones. The Easter Bunny is also there and the kids get to sit in his lap for a photo button. I painted the backdrop and made an over-sized basket for them to sit in. It weally does make good pwops for the waskally wabbit pictures.

In February, my lack of control with proper food choices finally caught up with me. My doctor pronounced Type 2 Diabetes for me. Just medication by mouth, along with diet and exercise should put a halt to any further complications. What's that adage: If I knew I would live this long, I would have taken better care of myself when I was younger.

OK, Shaun, so you're, now, going to make your own meals and eat more healthy? Let's see...Cooking every morning/night...e-ewe. Or eat the same thing for 2-3 lunch/dinners in a row, by cooking every other day. Becomes boring, and hasn't worked in the past for any extended length of time. And freezing in regular bags allows freezer burn and the quality is poor. None of these choices were particularly 'appetizing', so I purchased the Food Saver V475 system to make healthy TV Dinners, and correctly portioned foods for the freezer.

It's been wonderful for the life change (diet) process I am trying to maintain. It is also good for fast breakfast choices- oatmeal with pear/currant compote tastes mighty fine. Beans and soups frozen into blocks first (in plastic dish), removed and then placed in the meal bags. Voila! Perfect measured portions and it can be boiled or microwaved. I have saved the sectioned plates from the store-bought frozen dinners and use them for my ala Shaungirl meals. The vacuuming process distorts the plates a wee bit, but they spring back and I don't send them through the microwave again. While the food is still frozen, I transfer it to a regular plate and then microwave that. And the special sealing bag can then be re-used for a smaller item.(Each time, the sealing takes another 4" of the bag) I made a large batch of mini-meatloaf portions in cupcake pans. Wowser. These were most excellent and will be a repeat menu item. I think even Rachael Ray would say "Yum-o!".

The Haul

I confessed in the entry "S-h-o-p-p-i-n-g" that I was a calendar junkie. I thought the 'after' pic might be helpful in showing my obsession. I went on an 8 hour shopping safari the day after Christmas. Whoa Moma! Barnes and Noble, Borders and Half Price Books were all whirled through.

I located calendars, books and a DVD. The movie is "Showtime" with Robert DeNiro and Eddie Murphy. It's a formula 'buddy cop' movie, but that is not what draws my interest. It's the hobby of DeNiro's character that got me hooked...pottery. Yep, big, burly cop man does wheelthrown pottery while, at times, watching a 'how-to' demo by British potter, Robin Hopper.

I managed to find all my favorite must-haves, except for Ziggy. It was available by order only. I wasn't going to pay full price and shipping. There are-ahem-some limits to my addiction. I actually school-girl-squealed over Erika Oller's page-a-day offering. I have a mug by her that I dearly love. I know, I know. What's a potter doin' buying mugs, instead of makin' 'em?

So, I'm flipping my way through 2007, and it's always real page-turner year thanks to my calendar obsession.

We, Now, Resume Our Normal Broadcast

Hello again. Wow. What a tumultuous month and a half it's been. You ask "What? What happened?". Nothing, actually. All this drama played itself out in the 'Center Ring' of my mind.

I feel silly typing this, hopefully short, explanation of my absence. I battle depression and take Zoloft® daily to help me continue 'the dance'. I also take, most importantly, my relationship with Father God very seriously. I know that I know, that I know, that I am a priceless, precious daughter of the Most High, through my faith in Jesus. But sometimes the brain chemicals wage a major conflict on that knowledge. It's all I can do to rise at 4:45 am, Monday thru Friday, and just do the simple tasks of my daily life.

I repeat, I know that I am blessed. I even have "Daughter of the Most High Moments" during these mind game bouts. This is where I know Abba Father has placed, at the same time, me and the perched hawk or the hummingbird or the sun on prairie grass...you see where this is headed, don't you? I don't believe in coincidence, unless it's "when God works a miracle and decides to remain anonymous". So I feel a bit embarrassed about the "it's all about ME syndrome" I sometimes can't shake. With all that's going on in this world, I'm sure there would be a myriad of applicants to take on my 'battle', because it would be Paradise for them, when compared to their reality.

So, with this information now typed out loud, I can continue a pastime that really does bring me great joy and a sense of accomplishment. And thanks to the dear ones who publicly asked where are you and when are you going to blog again. Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, on with the show...

Yes, I'm Biased

Morgan and Mom. Two beautiful ladies.

A Grand New Year To All

It's a five furkid pile-up. Wishing you a blessed New Year. And a quote I found last January, in a calendar (where else), that I really liked:

"We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives... not looking for flaws, but for potential."- Ellen Goodman

It's a SHE

Finally. Says Lisa who was 41 weeks pregnant. I, the proud great-Auntie, am ecstatic to introduce you to Morgan Campbell. Born December 29th at 9:22 am and weighed in at 8.11 lbs. Healthy and happy all around. Sweet, sweet baby girl. A red-haired beauty like her Mom. Those newly minted toes will look extra special in the booties this Auntie sent, although those toes will need to grow a wee bit, first. May Abba Father guard and grow this new one into a Daughter of the Most High. In Jesus precious name, Amen. (contented Auntie sigh)

S-H-O-P-P-I-N-G

Tomorrow. Tomorrow. I love you tomorrow... I always take the day after Christmas as a vacation day. I must go shopping. Will I buy shoes, clothing, Christmas decor and ribbon- all at those astonishingly-low prices? No. Those don't call my name. I have a confession to make.

I'm a page-a-day calendar junkie. I make an early-morning pilgrimage to Barnes & Noble or Borders the day after Christmas. Huh? you say. These bookstores have all their new calendars at half-price on the 26th of December. I love ripping those little pages away and seeing a new, daily dose of information or humor. The shelf above my workspace has hangers for 6 and desk space will accommodate 2-3 more. I do have a couple of perpetual ones that I have been flipping-over, for +6 years.

The Joy of Cooking, Get Fuzzy, A Little Joy- A Little Oy, Mary Engelbreit and Ziggy are must-haves. I also get a mini magnet one that resides on the fridge- Chocolate. I fill in with whatever subjects that catch my interest. I also get wall calendars for the various spaces in my life that need a little brightness or daydreams. Usually Pics of Ireland, Pics of France and this year- A dragon calendar. I saw it before Christmas and I hope it can still be found. It's like an Audubon' field journal on dragons and their habitats.

So if there are people on that Christmas List that weren't crossed off- try a little trip to your local B&N or Borders. Just make sure you breathe deeply upon entering the store. There's just something about the smell of books gathered together, ready to impart knowledge. Ahhhh.

I Wish You The Merriest

This is the pin I wear whilst I decorate City Hall. I thought it a nice blog pic for this day. A very
Merry Christmas to everyone who stops by The Antique Whisk. Please leave a comment if you
would care to. Blessings to all and to all a Good Night.

In Case You Wondered

In case you wondered who was on the other end of the keyboard. Well then. I figure what-the-hey, I'm me and no one does it better. Cheers, everyone. (disclaimer: no eggnog was harmed in the making of this pic.)

Merry Christmas Eve

There were many things I did not find the attitude to do this year. One being the hand-drawn card that features the Furkids and me, all grinning ear-to-ear. I sent these two pics, to all my 'wired' friends and family, with the subject line of "consider yourself carded for Christmas". That's my front porch and a view of the 'river' just about a ½-mile from my home. We had ice the last week of November, so I paused long enough to take a shot through a rolled-down car window.

I am not going anywhere for Christmas this year. Everyone I know is having company or being company today. And I am so not of the mood to sit through a triple-dose of my Daddy's second wife, Nell, and her daughters, Cheryl and Donna. Uncharitable? Yes. But I have struggled to keep my sanity during the past three weeks. Someone pass the Zoloft®, please.

I know there are many, many people who have no one and nothing at this time of the year (or anytime for that matter). I also know that I always have Someone, and I have everything through my faith in Jesus' life, death and Resurrection. I am never alone and never will I be forsaken. There are times, though, that I cry out to the Father for 'skin-on' encounters. A voice besides my own. Affirmation. And, oh, how I miss Christmas as it once was, but will never be again. Ever. But I know this is the way the journey road is traveled.

Mommie's been gone for 28 years now. Sometimes the pain clawing at my soul is that of a tiger, bringing down its prey. Gripping agony, strangling me. Mostly now, however, it's the soft, gentle tickle of a kitten's paw. And I giggle. Oh... for a stocking filled with: an apple, orange, banana, mixed nuts ( in shell), assorted mini-chocolate Hersey's® bars (removable paper sleeves, then), and a dollar bill. Actually it was no fancy 'stocking', but truly just a sock. A well satiated, 100%-cotton snake, with various-sized lumps bulging out from under its 'skin'. A sweet, sweet memory. (sigh)

I declare to the world (and to myself): I am blessed. I say, Merry Christmas, and The Lord's joy and comfort be upon you and yours. May you find laughter in remembering dear ones and for the ways they showed their love to you. And sometimes, just sometimes, comfort is found at the end of your own blog entry. And it was, really, there all the time, I just needed to let it in to nestle. That familiar 'soul-kitten' I mentioned before: is purring loudly, ecstatically now. And is that wonder-filled joy I detect shining in its eyes? Peace... Abba Father's peace be unto you all.

Occupied

The previous post shows the birdbath sans bird. Well, this shows it does, indeed, get patrons.

Recycling At Its Feathered Finest

Since moving to the country, I've never gotten around to purchasing a 'real' birdbath. When money got tight(er), I cancelled Dish Network, and now watch TV by rabbit ears. Hmm. What to do with the old dish? Well now, wotcha think? Doesn't it make the most divine birdbath, darling? Just enough water to wet little birdie beaks and splish-splash the plumage. But not enough for the mosquitoes to hatch in, as it needs to be refilled every other day. We like recycling. "Here, here, and jolly good", say the feathered ones. And besides, watching this dish network is vastly more fulfilling.

But just so's you know, there is no old commode sitting out beside it (or anywhere else) in the garden. However, I do have a red-neck gazing ball. Yep... it's a bowling ball. Ü Ahhh. The joys of country living- without Martha.

Christmas At The City With More Pics (and Pans)

This is another area I decorate- Water Customer Service Counter. I changed the color scheme for this year. And there has already been a query as to why they did not have 'traditional colored' garland this year. The Superintendent of Parks approached me with this very question. I said that there had been many complaints regarding last year's garland and decor. There is not enough counter over-hang to protect the decorations, and it was constantly getting caught on pagers, cellphones, belt buckles and so on. The poinsettias were already a 'non-traditional' hot magenta, so I went with shiny aluminum lime-green garland that would provide the "flash" without too many added-on decorations. I said they should be glad I didn't go with the aluminum hot-pink or orange choices. He just smiled, raised a Spock-like eyebrow, and said "should it be asked again, I will relay this info to the inquisitive person(s)".

There is a laughable inside story to this complaint. The Parks Department provides the funds to buy said decorations and the staff to install it (every year). And it seems the Water Department only needs to supply the complaints. Hope they get used to it, I only change-out counter decor after three years of use.

Thanksgiving and Then, Christmas At The City

Yes, I'm still alive. I have the aches, pains and pictures to prove it. I went to Austin for Thanksgiving. I left plenty of food for the kitties and bird, loaded the puppers into the car and left at 2:00 pm on Wednesday. At 4:00, we had 'zoomed' a vast 90 miles. We were zipping along at 10 mph for most of that time. We finally arrived in Austin (only 210 miles) at 7:15 that night. Whew! But, Thank you Lord, we were in better shape than the wreck-outs that were causing the traffic snarls.

I had a very blessed time seeing my friend of 35 years and her husband, of two years, Mike. (still kissy-faced, they are) They have 3 dogs, too. Zackary is Gunther's actual brother. It's kind of like red-neck families- they are brothers and cousins, at the same time. I consider Karol my sister, so, of course, our Furkids are cousins. So we had 2 dobermans, 3 Aussies and 1 Rotti-X to go with Turkey Day. And the Husband who is allergic to dogs...

Karol and I did something we have never done before and it was legal, too. We got up at 4:00 am on Friday and went to stand in line at the local Best Buy. They had monitors on deep sale. Were we successful? Well, sort of. The line was all around the building when we got there. People had begun to camp out on Thanksgiving evening. So we didn't get the 22" or 19", but I did get the last 17" LCD flat screen at $79.99. Since I still had a 15" behemoth from 2000, I am very happy with the purchase. I also bought the last all-in-one Canon copier-scanner-camera docking thingee for only $19.99. Did I need it? NO. But who could pass up, for twenty bucks, a back-up printer/scanner. (and my scanner is old too)

I had to leave Austin on Saturday afternoon, to make sure I was back in town with no problems. For Monday morning, Christmas At The City began. If you call in, you'd better be calling in DEAD. The week after Thanksgiving is always for decorating the whole first-floor of City Hall before the Holiday Extravaganza, a.k.a. Christmas Tree lighting. I do have much help, but I am considered the Decoration Diva for the week. The Go-To-Girl if there is a question, problem, or 'come look at this right now' moment. While there may be enough of me to make two people, I haven't yet learned how to clone myself. Whoa Moma!! It's intense for one week.

But an oh, so, soul soothing week- both artistically and spiritually. While the City's legal wimps may have suggested Irving take the PC route and call the event "A Holiday Extravaganza" but still light a 'Christmas Tree'. (BTW- how does that work , actually?) I get to say "Happy Birthday, Jesus!" in my heart, and with a silly grin on my face, I go merrily along, decorating all week. I actually wear a pin on my city-furnished uniform T-Shirt that has "Happy Birthday, Jesus" on it. I temper it, somewhat, with another pin which reads "HO3". You ask how does this work? Because we are allowed lapel pins, I cannot be kept from wearing one that has a 'religious' message. One of the things that President Clinton did right- passing The Freedom of (not from) Religion in the Workplace Act. It also works in my wood shop, I play Christian music without restraint. If radios are allowed, stations can't be censored or all radios must go. I must admit, though, I do work in the shop by myself. No one to offend, I'm not that much of a pushy twit. Yet. ;)

Christmas At The City With Pics

I also decorated the Meet and Greet room where the City Council and Park Board members gather for munchies, before the Tree Lighting.

This is the Information Counter. The roses and gold poinsettias are new this year, as last year's stems had gotten a bit tired looking.

The main inside Christmas Tree. It's just a 12 footer.

Christmas At The City with Pics, Continued

This is a new area I designed this year. One I am quite pleased about, if I may so myself. I made the cupcakes from lampshades and expandable insulating foam. The red and green candy are plastic plates hot-glued together. The boxed chocolates are Styrofoam spread with brown silicone house caulking. The chocolate cupcakes have the brown silicone on top of dried foam. The sprinkles are party confetti and small Christmas tree ornaments dusted on before the foam dried. That's not real gumdrops you see, I found a gumdrop garland that I cut apart. And, I think you guessed, the red 'cherries' are tree ornaments placed in the wet foam. The toy soldiers are getting a bit worn, I made them some years ago. They are on the 'do over' list for 2007.

Banisters by entry ways. More controlled chaos.

Parks Department Counter and large wall wreath. I designed this area to follow a more 'natural' decor, as we are, after all, the Parks Dept. The ribbon is just tucked to add movement in the garland. A sort of controlled chaos.

Council Chamber Christmas tree. They get their own. La-Ti-Da, don't you know. I did have to re-decorate this tree. It's a girl vs. guy thing. The guys had trussed the tree, not placed the ribbon on in a flowing garland effect. I wondered if they were going to hold it for ransom, as it been tied up- not dressed up. I wish I had thought to take a before and after pic. It was funny after I got over the disbelief of what I actually saw. I'm glad there's always time for do-overs.

These are large murals painted by me on butcher paper. Sometimes original artwork, sometimes copy-free clip art blown-up on an Art-O-Graph, new every year.

Full of Thanks

Just wanted to wish all my friends, family and readers a wonderful, blessed Thanksgiving. I pray your day is filled family, food and good times. May Abba Father give His blessing to all you do, and keep you and yours safe. Love in Jesus name, to all who stop by here. And of course, the Furkids say "Gobble".

Everyone Loves Fresh Sheets

Gosh, do ya think it's a hit with the locals? The fresh sheep sheet set (say that 3X's real fast) lies beneath a cover. It's so hard to wash a king-sized bedspread, every week, in a normal washer, that I keep an old sheet over the whole bed. With 12 puppy paws that come in slightly damp and sometimes leave prints, the sheet helps keep my washing down.

I switched to flannel sheets today. I do so love to put on a set of sheets that have been residing in the linen closet for a time. The scent is so comforting. I just feel well looked after for some reason- all snuggled safe. Somewhere from childhood, I suppose. (And I smile.)

The green spread is Gunther's nest, which is occupied by Hannah at present. I keep the winter nighttime temperature at 63º and short-haired puppers doth protest. It's too confining to put their coats on at night for sleeping. So I cover Gunther and Hannah with the spread before getting into bed. And during the night, as I'm a very light sleeper, I re-cover them should they need it. Ahem...just who trained who?

Fluttered By

This bush was all aflutter this afternoon. It's the last wildflower left on my land. A very busy hub at Insect International Airport. Honeybees, wasps, several types of butterflies- all were landing and departing with great precision. The air traffic controller was doing a fine job on this sunny day.

Surprise In The Sky

Strange things are happin' here in the country. Large mushroom shapes rising, ethereally, out of the treeline in the early morning glory.

I just wanted a cup of motivating java. But it was jolt of "What the..." that got me moving, instead. Looking out the kitchen window was a bit different from the norm. I hadn't even put on my glasses, and I had no trouble spotting the "what's wrong with this picture?" scenario. I ran (yes, actually) to get my robe, glasses, Birkenstocks, and camera. Thankfully, all in one room. In just the seconds it took to get these items, the balloon had risen high in the crisp, clear Autumn sky. The heating system blasts could be heard going off, adding height at a breath-taking rate. I don't know if they had had trouble and needed to land, or if they launched from the parking lot ½-mile up the road. Either way, it was quite a sight to behold. And off they flew into the wild, bluest-of-blue yonder.

A Time To Remember

I thought this a serious enough topic, that it should be on both my blogs. November 9, 2006 is the 68th Anniversary of Kristallnacht (The Night of Broken Glass). Please see my blog entry from It's Wooly Me for the full post on this topic. Please pass on a hug to those you love. And pass on kindness and compassion to others- always.

I Forgot

I forgot to mention the change in the "comment" area. It now reads "L'Chaim! Notes". I thought I should tell people what that means, lest someone think it's some weird cult thingy. No, it just means "to life" in Hebrew. It's a declaration (a toast) of joy and blessing of the message you leave for me. I thought it appropriate for this blog because I whisk about in the "bowl of life". I also use it as a stamp on some of my pottery. L'Chaim, ya'll.

Say It With Pics- Worth 1000 Words Each

I have had domestic chores and haven't had a chance to post a wordy entry. I thought I could substitute a few pics that would show a glimpse into my furry world. I have come to love my digital camera. So easy to use. It's been cool here in Texas and short-haired puppers become 'chilidogs'. Instead of mustard or onions, I just add a second coat. Gunther is an 8 year old red Doberman (his ears are natural). Doing his best impression of 'Sherlock Bones'. He has had his forever home with me since he was 7 months old. His brother, Zackary, was rescued at the same time and lives in Austin with Karol, my friend of 35 years.
Hannah Ruth is stylin'. She is a 4 year old Rotti-cross rescued off the streets at 7 months old. Since it was a crazy Irish lady that adopted her, she has a very Irish birthday-March 17.
Dueling tummies, with Barucha and Hannah trying to 'out cute' each other. All my puppers know the phrase, "Show me the tummy!" or "Where's your tummy?". Yes, I'm the Mommie, but they still do have a high C.Q. (Cute Quotient).
Enoki and Finch enjoy Kitty TV. One day it was a riveting drama: a true claw-biter. It starred a free-spirited plastic grocery bag pirouetting about in the yard. Four stars and four-paws-up rating.
Fresh. Fresh. Fresh. I must have it fresh. Enoki mews and purrs in her personal attendant's face while they sleep. Upon stumbling from bed, said attendant turns on the faucet. Voila! Liquid purrfection.

That, and Five Dollars Will Buy You Ecstasy

How exciting- it's a... bowl. And not even clay. But wait, it's the search for the bowl that fills this story. A search that has lasted for almost 30 years. It's the fourth in a set of nesting bowls by Pyrex. Mommie made banana puddin' and mashed potato salad, in the largest bowl (no not together), which was yellow. In her set, there was salmon, red, green and yellow. Somewhere in the years after her death, all the bowls, with the exception of the yellow, were missing from my cabinets. A good friend filled in the red and green ones for me. I searched for the last one at rummage sales, antique malls, flea markets- all to no avail.

I was at yet another antique mall, this day, and I had scoured all the booths. Once again, disappointment was all that had caught my eye. I heaved the inevitable oh-well-sigh, and had begun to say the last rites for this search: "I guess I'll find it one day". Yes, it was a very Eeyore moment. But I had not even fully finished the last word...gasp. When, what to my wandering (sic) eyes should appear, but the very bowl I'd searched for, through many a long year. (my apologies to Clement Moore) There it was in blue. I almost did the dance-of-happy right there in the aisle. But seeing a large lady dancing about in pure ecstasy, over a bowl, (or really- over anything) might have cleared the mall of potential customers. I demurely settled for an shrill schoolgirl scream.

I gleefully strolled up to the counter to make my purchase. Actually, I looked more like Jimmy Stewart in It's A Wonderful Life, doing the 'moma and papa dollar' dance after the run on the bank. The price tag was marked- $10. How perfect. Through the years, I have found other sets that weren't complete or with the wrong pattern, and they had been over $60. I would have gladly paid $20 just for that one bowl. I was on a Pyrex-high when I reached the check-out. But wait, here's the extra serving in my bowl story. There, I was informed that all items in that booth were 50% off, and it would really be a mere- $5. Whoa Moma. Ooh. Ooh. Sweet! I finished making my purchase, giggling all the while. And when I left the store, the cashier was shaking her head and upon her lips- a story that is sure to become the stuff of legends... Giggle.

Last Of The Summer Reds

Autumn trys to convince me with her sensuous siren song that she is here to stay. But when these beauties provide plump, tangy explosions of delight- Summer's song wins out. I also have rosemary in aromatic, bushy profusion. I am looking forward to Thanksgiving, when I will slip several sprigs between the breast skin and into the turkey cavity before its baking. Yummy. All the rest of my small garden has stopped producing. No peppers, basil or sage. My Sweet Williams, though, have started to flourish since the grasshoppers stopped producing themselves.

Enoki (named after the mushroom because of two white toes) came "maa-ing" down the hall at me today. It did actually sound like a tiny lamb. She couldn't meow because she had her mouth full of grasshopper. She deposited it at my feet and looked most proud of herself. She and her brother, Finch, are very good wranglers of insects. Enoki catches and Finch feasts. E-eew. No kitty kisses, please.

Did You Say "Puppy Biscuit"?

Yes, the pupper girl is feeling much better, thank you very much. At about 10:00 pm last night, she decided food was needed. She had gone all day without anything except a horrid look about her. Today she's back to her more than normal self. Chasing brothers, sisters and barking buzzards from her airspace. All in a day's woof.

Waiting On Daylight

You know, alarm clock makers ought to make one with the sound of a dog- puking. 'Cause it'll get you moving and wide awake- instantly. And I was, at 4:00 this morning. My furkids have bed privileges. Or actually, with 3 dogs, 2 cats and me in a king-sized bed, I'm allowed the bed privilege.

Anyway, back to the story. Barucha (Aussie, almost 2 yrs old) was majoring in Puke 101 on the floor. Mommie scrambles out of bed, "come-on puppers, let's go outside" in an excited voice, but trying not to scare her. She's still young enough to think that emissions from the front end must be as wrong as those from the hind end. It's not- I know she can't help it. I just wanted to get the next puddle, should there be one, to happen on dirt, not carpet. After coming back inside, spot cleaning the carpet and poking a Pepto tab down a sick dog throat- we went back to bed. Hmmm. I don't remember hitting the snooze button on the Puke alarm. Yep. Repeat the steps from an hour ago.

We have a call into Dr. Paul, because the second Pepto tab didn't stay down and Barucha has "stinky butt". That's the term of endearment I have for diarrhea. I am, as I type, dressed for mowing the lawn, and I was just waiting on daylight. Oh look. There's a light now. Hey, there aren't any train tracks...

Subscribe to The Antique Whisk

While I'm still recovering from past Pottery sales and getting to new ones, I haven't had a chance (or made time) to post new articles. I added the FeedBlitz option to my blog page. If you're tired of visiting and finding nothing new, please subscribe- it's free and there is no spamming. Look at the bottom of the right-hand column for the entry space. An e-mail will be sent to the your mailbox, each time I post a new article. You can also un-subscribe, at any time, with no problems. Cheers, and have a grand week. Oh. Don't forget to feed Lida Rose down at the very bottom of this page...

Glazed Bakedgoods- With Calories

Happy Birthday to me, today...As you can see, I spared no expense when buying the cake. My pretty little mini-cake is chocolate and had purple and blue stripes of gooey, guilt-laced icing. Both scrumptious and inner-child pleasing.

Unfortunately, that one last stop on the To-Do list was almost responsible for its demise. It's still a bit warm here in Texas and the cake had a wicked-witch-of-the-West-moment. Melting, melting. All the sweetcream icing flowing down like lava, forming a puddle of blue-purple at the bottom. Wow, is that Richard Harris I hear singing in the background. I managed to swirl it back onto the cake and let it recover in the fridge.

I'm going to celebrate today in Technicolor. Meatloaf, loaded smashed potatoes, and green beans are on the pre-cake menu. It's just me and the Furkids today. Cards, calls and e-mails will abound, though. So, I am safe and secure in the knowledge of my friends and family's love for me. And that my Heavenly Father loves me- His daughter. Life doesn't get any better than that. My heart is full.

Counting Chickens Before They Hatch- Ceramic Version

My Dance of Happy has slowed a wee bit. This is what happens when you try to rush the drying of pottery in a bisque firing and it says "No-I don't wanna", rather emphatically. Water becomes steam and it has to come out somewhere. What could have been in my checking account after being sold, is lying in shards upon the kiln shelf. But on a still-in-one-piece note, the second shelf is fine. Eggs. Chickens. Pottery. Ehh, it's all the same- only safe when sold or hatched.

Glazed Bakegoods- Without Calories

Drumroll please. Kiln opens... and I'm happy,happy,happy. Doing the Dance of Happy. No creative before-and-after pics this time, just posting results. I'm especially enamored with the platter. It is going on the Inventory List as "Barely Fits". That's because I made, before I measured. If one has a kiln a certain size, one should only make pottery which fits into said kiln. Almost had a platter-sized serving of "Whoops".

A Toad Interlude

Thought I would post what I have been doing while not posting. I am trying to prepare for two pottery sales. And though, Mommie and Daddy gave me the perfectly lovely, middle name of "Annette"- I have changed it to 'The Procrastinator'. So, I'm potting and glazing and firing right now, trying to make up for wasted time. All the time chanting to myself "don't do this again, don't do this again". This is a close-up of one of my stoneware functional froggie bowls. I'll post more pics to show the kiln opening, it's like Christmas to a potter, just without the wrapping and ribbon carnage.

And With No Repeats

With The Hummingbird Channel gone for the season, I'm glad The Sunset Channel is still on the air. And no technical difficulties, ever. Awesome...thank you, Abba.

That's All Folks...

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am most sad as I tell you- The Hummingbird Channel has left the airways(sic) for the season. (I apologize for my pic as I can't sneak very well, and must depend on the zoom.) This little guy will be the last of his kind at my house for the year. I watched him plump, like a Ballpark frank on the grill, in the gentle rainfall that came last week. He also seemed preoccupied with the tennis match he was attending. He sat there in the drizzle, almost motionless, for long moments at a time. Only his tiny head swinging, to and fro, as he watched the phantom game.

When The Hummingbird Channel airs its programs for the Spring ratings sweeps, it is at its best. Awesome surround-sound capabilities makes the 'twitter-chitter' and resonating wing thrum, must-hear experiences. And the dog-fight scenes have excellent aerial choreography. Such drama, such action and all in amazing jewel-tone colors. Sigh...I suppose I'll have to be content with my feathered memories until next Spring, since this channel doesn't syndicate its programs. But stay tuned, tomorrow I'll post the other channel available here. New episodes daily, with no repeats.

Of Furkids Past- Part Two

Harrigan was named for a song in the musical, Yankee Doodle Dandy. As a kitten, he was a very active, cheeky fluffball. He grew and grew(and grew) into a 13 lb chunk of DLH brown/white tabby- my "kittyboy". He did have a littermate sister, Hillary, who was let out by a roommate too soon after a move. She was gone, never to be seen again, within moments.

Harrigan was one of those kitties that, had he grown an opposable thumb, should never play poker. Everything he thought was immediately evident on his naughty whiskered face. He was declawed(before I knew better) and he loved to entice Cardigan into a lively chase about the apartment. "Monster Cat" would go to the back of a chair and proceed to 'scratch' the dickens out of it. "Tell the kitty- NO!" was Cardigan's favorite command because it meant a kitty head needed honking. You go to the kitty, grab his head and squeeze(gently) a couple of times. Honka. Honka. Just like a bicycle horn. GAME ON. It was just what a frustrated herding dog longs for- running feet just begging to be nipped. And the perfect excuse for 'Lewis and Clark Cat' to blaze new trails across the furniture and walls.

Harrigan was my lovable, purring "lap-lump". He made many a cold evening of book reading, a very cozy time. He didn't like 'people food' and would actually give a very melodramatic gag-action if you let him sniff it. Oh, but how he loved to hunt and he was adept without claws. Snakes, geckos, and water roaches were all brought to me in feline adoration. Snakes went into the 'Catch and Release Program', the roaches were screamed at and then stomped on, and a couple of geckos, unfortunately, weren't found until they had become lizard jerky. Small, desiccated, twig-like things that, when finally noticed, always made me cry. Poor critters.

In his later years, Harrigan developed arthritis in his declawed broken-down paws and his kibble bowl was up high, being kept away from doglips. A thick multi-layered pile of rugs made a soft, impact absorbing landing site, but better still: The Kitty Cafe. I took a medium-sized plastic totebox, turned it upside-down, cut out a "U" shaped door in one end and placed the box back onto its lid. Voila! Inside it an old kitty can satiate, while just outside, dogs salivate.

His health declined rapidly in 2003 and medication could no longer provide him a quality life. I held Harrigan while Dr. Paul made him pain-free. A life well pounced, purred and scampered through: April 6, 1988 to December 3, 2003. Good "Kiddles".

Pic of Yesterday's Blog Subject

This is my sweeters, Cardigan. She was with me from December 17, 1987 to June 3, 2003. And on the morning of June 3, I was there when Dr. Paul ended the pain caused by her failing body. It's my opinion that, if they accompany you in life, you need to be there with them in their last few minutes. I know that, through my Faith in Jesus' life, death and resurrection, I am assured of Heaven. I hope that Cardigan and my other babies will meet me there. I can't say for certain, but neither can anyone else this side of Heaven's Gate. So I think I'll consider I Cor 2:9, "Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.", until I get there. Pooh, you'll always be my rootin'-tootin'-snortin'-pig-dog. Good girl.

Of Furkids Past- Part One

I can't introduce the current Furfamily members without beginning with two who have been gone only a short time. The 'short time' is actually 3 years, but these sweet ones were with me for 15 years. My heart doesn't go by a calendar.

Cardigan(Pooh) was a blue merle Australian Shepherd cross. So named because of her resemblance, or so I thought, to a moth-eaten sweater. Pooh was small and dainty by Aussie breed standards. At only 31 lbs, she fit nicely into the apartment du jour. She had what I called the "apartment bark"- a light, barely audible percolating sound which she kindly taught to her brother Gunther. However, upon seeing a beloved human, she let out a screeching aahoo-ike-oooh, continuously until she thought that person well met. A very interesting sound, indeed, when in a underground parking garage.

She padded softly beside me through an In-patient stay for depression, a poorly chosen marriage(what was I thinking?) and The Divorce. In an attempt to salvage that marriage, I even offered to give Cardigan away, as my husband was not a dog person. And, though he declined the offer, giving away a family member will never be offered again- to anyone. I kept the dog and lost the husband, the best choice hands(or paws) down.

While I loved Cardigan dearly, she was the result of human ignorance. Born out of the belief that if you let a dog have one litter- she will be a better pet after being spayed. *Soapbox Alert* Nope, still have the same dog, plus a litter of mixed-breed puppies that may never find responsible homes. Added to that, the dog now has a higher chance of breast cancer because of not being spayed before her first heat. And should someone feel the need teach children the "miracle of birth" by allowing(making) the family dog or cat have a litter, be sure the curriculum also includes a fieldtrip. Strap those kiddos in the ol' SUV and head on down to the local Animal Shelter. Where on Euthanasia Day(just a tad different than Earth Day), they can learn what happens to all the leftover Life-ED Course 'materials'. Please find another way to teach the children. Fluffy thanks you, and so do Shelter workers around the world. *Soapbox now stowed away*

No Pets Allowed

I've been on this journey road for nearly forty-nine years, and most of it has been spent walking side-by-side, hand-in-paw with pets. These same pets found a way to pounce, romp and wriggle their way into the Mapsco of my heart, as well. Somewhere along that journey, though, they have managed to shed more than hair- they shed their noun. No longer are they pets: they are Furkids. Mommie's Furkids. I suppose as the years vaporized and no real children materialized, I made the fuzz-covered vocabulary change.

I know that some people have a difficult time with this particular definition of family. Activities after work have to be carefully planned, overtime possibly turned down and spontaneous travel doesn't happen because of the 3 dogs, 2 cats and 1 bird waiting for Mommie to return. I've been asked, "Is it really worth it, you're life's really limited?" The fact that the question was posed means you won't understand the answer given. Like I said, "It's a Furkid thing".

In coming posts, I plan to introduce you to my Furfamily. Well, anyway, I hope to do this and not wander into Soapbox Land. Ahem...that was not, however, a promise to reduce my soapbox to kindling. My apologies.

Next Year's Butterflies?

I was staring out the window above the kitchen sink, one of my most fave views, and noticed a fluffy, fluttering lump in the backyard. I assumed it was the remains of something's fast-food meal. So I went out expecting to find bunny parts, but was surprised to see it was an exploded milkweed pod.

This is the plant where Monarch butterflies lay eggs, and on which the caterpillars feed. An empty chrysalis, found on my porch railing earlier this year, meant I had just missed a birth. I am tickled pink (red, orange, black & yellow, too) to discover these plants on their journey to becoming next year's butterfly chow. My neighbors probably aren't- I don't mow very often in the Spring or well... ever for that matter. A major plus in moving here, was being able to see the countryside in all its glorious green imperfection, and not to live on a golfcourse. I'm thinking that one man's weeds, are this girlie's wildflowers.

Why Must We?

Yesterday, I visited a Blog-of-Interest and left a comment. The author was bemoaning the use of a certain dead celebrity's likeness, with added computer generated dance scene, to sell clothing. I whole-heartedly agreed with the author on this subject. I know the advertiser in question had to receive permission from the celebrity's estate, but I still disagree with using people who can no longer voice their objections.

Here it is-wait for it, wait for it... Why must topical comments always become fodder for someone to de-evolve into a political rant? Geeze, we were talking about dead people being exploited for monetary gain. Most comments suggested other famous dead people who could peddle products, and that it would most likely be against all they were about. Then Maytag-man (agitator) suggests that it could be worse- said celebrity could be dancing the mambo(actually, he wrote mamba) with President Bush. It was a wild slide downhill from there. Lobbyists, Iran, bi-partisan socialism and then the mentioning of living celebrities getting out of drunk driving charges. Whoa Moma! My head hurts.

Come on, let's post on the topic used by the author. If the comments have a pulse that is lighthearted; keep it that way so there will be no need to administer literary CPR. Supply your own wooden soapbox if you feel a rant coming on, climb on up and "may the slats be with you".

Oh Just Run Me Over, Already

'Hate' is usually such an ugly word. But when used to describe irritating commercials, the word becomes the Miss Universe of the dictionary. I am speaking of the new genre of automobile TV ads. The car, truck or SUV is shown leaping tall mountains, making maneuvers of super-mechanical strength, or whizzing bullet-speed through various terrains. (By now, I'm thinking I'm hearing a whiz of a different kind.) Then the small print flashes across the bottom of the screen- "Professional stunt driver on a closed course". Uh, I seem to have misplaced my driver's license with that option listed. And, Rhett, wherever shall I find the closed course that they speak of?

One new ad shows a queue-jumping scene at a playground line. Mom and kid load into a mini-van and drive straight to a dealership. Once there, she signs papers, straps the kid in and away they drive in a new Hummer. In the next scene, it's not hard to miss the I'll-show-you-smirk plastered on her face. Gosh, I've always wanted to be on the road with drivers who are toting attitude as cargo. Now, I don't actually need those closed courses to drive like a stunt driver. (lightbulb moment) Wow, those ads were accurate after all. Happy Trails, ya'll.

Up on the Rooftop- Drip, Drip, Drip

Oh my... is that rain?! My back deck has a metal roof and the sound now emanating from it, is ambrosial. Liquid manna from the Father's hand. My area of rural Denton county is down 34" of rain for the last 20 months. The "Goodnight-Loving Trail", a.k.a. my backyard, will become gooey toe-sucking mud. With three large dogs, one of them being an XL at 85 lbs., all of them have been taught the request- "show me your toes". Toes are then presented so I, The Mommie, can clean all the nooks and crannies of 12 pads and 48 toes. Old T-shirts and towels are always at the ready. With no grass in the dog area (a 365 ft. linear fence-line) because of the drought, it should be a toe-showing Autumn and Winter. But as I cerebally wander through my B.C. (before country) apartment life, I shudder and ecstatically proclaim "Let the MudFest begin!".

All Things Unimportant

I've come to a stop-the-presses-announcement moment. This blog, at least on one level, will be my catharsis. (The first dictionary definition- not the one connected to "purgation". Although, some readers may liken my writing to such.) While I will write about topics that have a serious side, I can still prattle-on about inane subjects, as well. This way I might be able to spare myself from actually hearing, again, the ominous martyr death sigh succinctly punctuated with the sound of a closing door. Um... Yes, this happened to me last week at work, whilst in mid-prattle. I had become the very person (moi?) I inwardly roll my eyes at and try to escape from. So when I post here, I will have no need of ears with skin-on. So there! (nya-nya) ;)

I made a most delightful discovery this morning. One of my most favored mugs, Erika Oller's "Happily Dying of Chocolate", fits under the spout of my new Senseo Coffee Machine. I am a potter with no pots, or mugs for that matter, that I have made for myself. The cobbler's kids have no shoes and this potter has no pots. So I buy mugs with snappy sayings and this one was right up my dark chocolate alley.

Have you ever watched an infomercial and been tempted to buy the product? Do yourself a favor and Google the product before you break out the plastic. Find a site that has customer feedback about the product, read both pros and cons and you might find yourself not buying the product. This happened to me this morning- I was highly tempted by the Magic Bullet food processor set. What I read online convinced me to step-away-from-credit-card. I wish I had used this tactic when I wanted to purchase the Black and Decker Home Cafe Coffee System. I bought three: work, home and as a gift for my niece. Both of mine went Super Nova or fell apart within one week of each other, after only 15 months of light use. I would have known to purchase the Senseo in the first place, had I followed my own aforementioned advice. So Google before you gamble.

Lions and Tigers and Goats, oh my.

It was a hot, quiet afternoon and I was holed-up inside having just come home from work. The quiet part was changed instantly by a knock on the door. The furkids (still need to introduce them) erupted into their "I'm going to eat you/pet my tummy" canine opera. Still haven't posted that "my dog eats every third salesman, the second one just left" sign on the front door, yet. The salesman stated he was selling great steaks at very reasonable prices. I don't buy meat from the back of trucks in August in Texas, I tell him. He nervously laughs and says "no, we take orders and bring it out to you". I wondered why he was fidgeting and as I followed the glance he made over his shoulder, the reason became apparent. Buddy the goat had followed him from the neighbor's house.

We now, ironically, have unpackaged meat on the hoof chasing a meat salesman. The rather burly manly-man says in a voice that was, by now squeaking, "I don't do goats, make him go away". Buddy, at that precise moment, happily clip-clops up the stairs and onto the porch. He wanted to play with the nice man, like he does with his human 'Daddy' at home. I have watched Buddy and his Dad play and charge each other with lowered heads, without ever once striking each other. However, cheap-steak man knows nothing of this ritual and sees himself about to become goat chow. I grabbed Buddy's horn and let the man make a hurried dash for his truck. I, evilly (who ME), let go of said goat horn. Did you know that a goat can outrun a salesman; even if the salesman is given a headstart?

The man would have made a promising football player (or ballerina)- the moves he made were executed with style and grace. Both arms stretched out fully in front, with fingers widely splayed trying to fend off the wildly bouncing demon goat. All the while, his cute butt (hey, it was) was stuck fully out the opposite way. To his credit, no girlie-scream was ever emitted while he did the goat dance- the only sound heard was me snorting the held back laughter. He dived into the passenger side of the truck, slammed the door and thereby, saved his own meat so to speak. I escorted Buddy safely home, all the while chuckling and murmuring thanks to him for the delightful respite he provided on a hot August day in Texas.

Pesto Recipe

This is a recipe that I modified to fit the ingredients I had on hand. I had never made it before and was very brave (or stupid) because I took it to Patsy's B-Day Party. I had a request for the recipe...uh, I didn't follow a recipe. Just a splash here and there. Amazingly, my brain had not yet deleted the file. It is a nice pesto but very pungent- so a little goes a long way.

SAGE PEPITO PESTO

• 1/3C. Fresh Sage Leaves (do not pack)
• 2C. Spring Greens (pack lightly)
• 1/8C. Pepitos (roasted/hulled pumpkin seeds)
• 1/4C. Blue Cheese Crumbles (a blue brie would work)
• 2-3 Garlic Cloves (3 if small)
• 1 TB Balsamic Vinegar
• 1 TB Red Wine (whatever you like)
• 1/8C. Olive Oil (to start, if too dry- add a bit more)

Add all, except the oil, through the food processor shoot and finely mince. I don't have a good one- just a blender attachment. I have used the blender but it becomes pablum, tasty, but too smooth. Lastly, add the olive oil through the shoot, process until blended. Serve with a crusty bread or roast a chicken with the pesto glazed under the skin.

Two for one Sunday Edition

Furkids 101 was to be the class today. But... Wonder of wonders, last night I actually found myself somewhere besides work, WalMart or a gas station. I had the priviledge of attending a party to celebrate the 70th birthday for Patsy- a dear, talented Art instructor. She has been my Pottery teacher at Northlake College on Saturday mornings for several years. Her Monday thru Friday gig is at Booker T. Washington where she teaches Sculpture.

I had never been to her house and was in reverent awe as I entered the door. A state that enveloped me for the entire evening- I thought I had been transported to public art gallery not listed in the points-of-interest-guide. Everywhere one looked there was art. Beautiful flowing fibers, glass/metal sculptures, signed editions of 2-D, pottery and even the walls of the bathroom were art. She had designed the wallpaper for one bath and made the sink for the other. She has traveled extensively and has brought home treasures besides the perfunctory photos. Gathered about her that evening were the products of her life's work- people. Those who were touched by her journey through the multi-medium canvas that her life has been. Well done, Patsy. It is an honor to know you and to have been your student.

Tomorrow I will post the yummy Sage Pepito Pesto recipe that I took to the gala.

Still trying to find my blog legs

While I'm still a newbie and considering my options regarding blogging, these missives will seem a bit fuddled. Do I write for myself or for an audience? If just for me, recipes, products and any minutiae details regarding lifewhisks would be already known to me, the author. Well then, I must consider penning for an audience and it's a given that I already write for "the Audience of One", to quote from author Randy Alcorn. Abba Father is always the first to read my heart's blog, even before pen is put to paper (or fingers to keyboard). So with that having been said: come with me or dismiss me. But with or without an entourage, I am going to continue to whisk my life into being.

First day--timid but stepping out.

to blog or not to blog. I purchased an old whisk with a flaking painted handle at an Antique Mall, planning to set it aside for viewing only. It whispered, "Use me. Let me show you that old and scarred is still capable." Needless to say, I found it to be the best I have ever used. So this site will be about whisking in the bowl of life. Cooking, furkids, pottery and faith on ¾ acre in a country setting - whatever topics that might need to be agitated for the perfect melange to take place. I can not promise Pulitzer posts, correct punctuation, nor proper grammar- but I will endeavor to make good observations as I whisk about in my life.