So, it did snow, and the daffodils floundered in the cold.

But we were not daunted, and had a vaguely bizarre night of bowling with Sara and several of her friends. Either we are cool parents, or particularly dweeby ones.  It would have been a little more normal if the kids were 12 or 14, but with them being mostly 18 and capable of driving themselves around to their own amusements, it felt as if we'd slipped into some sort of time warp.  Of course, just being in a bowling alley may have been a contributing factor....

For those of you who couldn't find me at Medieval Fair this cold, blustery weekend, it's because I wasn't there.  Just didn't have the heart, way back in December, to send in the funds and application, let alone purchase a new canopy after the destruction of mine last year.  It's probably safe to say a certain era has come to an end, and I'm not mourning it.  Instead of slogging down to Norman for three days, I stayed closer to home, kept up with the massage clients, was able to answer the call to face paint for a last-minute birthday party, work a little on the first of three massive market umbrellas to be painted for a wedding. 

 It's like having a parachute spread on the table, and rather tedious work, what with having to allow each piece to dry before moving onto the next.  Oh, and that thing about cats wanting to walk/sleep/play on the table.

The other thing I was able to do, having put Med. Fair decidedly in my rear view mirror, was attend IAO's Biting the Apple, erotic art show and party.  I'd entered a piece, so was happy to mingle with the crowd, meet many friends, and see the assorted artistic offerings and entertainments.  Last year was our first time to attend, and I'd come away with the impression it was a rather lame affair.  This time, however, was quite a bit more festive.  Tony and I ended up going both nights. The second night had a theme of 'circus/fetish ball', and as the evening drew on, some odd costumes certainly showed up.  We left the wild looks to the (mostly) younger crowd, and wore tamer apparel.  I did have a woman ask me if I was Zelda, and another tell me I was Dorothy Parker.  

Some photos are safer to show than others.....

Everyone's gotten into the creative act in recent days; we volunteered to paint two of the canvas banners to be auctioned off at Classen's art festival - Tony and Sara tackled one, I had the other. It's been a good laugh to see how those two think when it comes to artistic expression. Final, finished product photos have yet to be taken, but as the banners are due to be turned in tomorrow, I reckon it'll happen soon.



Last Saturday, MJ stopped by during her whirlwind, going-out-of-town preparations, to bring me a gorgeous spring bouquet. No reason to let it waste away in her dark, lonely house, so I gladly accepted it. Even though I can't be around lilies without getting pollen on my nose..... Buster thinks they make a suitable background.

The past few days: heavenly hints of spring. The next few: supposedly a spring equinox blizzard. There's plenty of straw around the garden to cover up the tender sprouts, although any tree buds are on their own. Yesterday our northernly-exposed, slow-on-the-uptake daffodils finally bloomed. I'll stroll out again tomorrow evening to see if there's much difference in their situation.

Actually, more than for the plants, I'm concerned about our poor feral Stripey Nose II kitty, who comes around for food. A week or two ago I noticed mysterious blood drips on the path, as well as some splotches in an outdoor food bowl. It was a few more days before I saw the cat and the damage done to him, by a dog (or dogs, possibly, as a few days ago our own Inky Slinky Black Jack was blatantly attacked by two dogs, right outside my window! I rushed out and chased them away, but Jack disappeared under the neighbor's house for several hours, before finally limping inside to hide under the bed upstairs.)
So, Stripey is a real mess, can barely limp on two legs, but manages to bring himself up the path a couple times a day, asking for food. I give him a tin, with vitamin e and brewer's yeast mixed in. I'd dose him with amoxicillin if I could get my hands on some, but nothing's simple these days, it seems, with veterinary care. Any place I know to take him would require a round of 'routine' care (vaccinations, etc.) before even addressing his wounds. Today I discovered he's made a nest on an old couch in our garage. The door is stuck open since that time a few years ago when we disconnected the electricity that ran from the house, via two spliced, very un-code wires across the garden path. With the threat of cold cold winds and rain and blizzard snow, I've tried to make a bit of shelter around the couch, without changing it so much he'll not want to use it.
After his evening meal, he likes to relax (as much as a cat in pain can relax, I suppose) on a shabby mat by the back door, soaking up a bit of evening sun. I wish I could bring him inside for the storm, but suspect he'd freak out and do himself even more harm trying to escape. Poor brave fellow.

A hint of spring

It's been a long, gray, cold, wet, dreary winter. Typical for some places, but hardly acceptable conditions for the sunny plains. If the birds know what they're about (and I suspect they do, at least as much as the weathermen and most likely tons more), spring is about to properly descend upon us. There has been endless twittering and trilling and scolding and all manner of frisky avian activity in the trees. Beneath the sheltering straw, I've spotted seedlings of fennel and anise hyssop looking for the sun, and tulips are pushing through the soil.
Still, most days are more suited to, oh, a little reading perhaps? Good thing the annual library book sale just happened, and good thing I (as usual) gave in to that visceral reaction I have to books.
Take a look at my haul!








Of course, grrl does not live by books alone, so I have just treated myself to my very first steel-boned corset. If I don't break it (or myself) whilst learning how to properly wear and care for it, I look forward to a spring and fall of tailored fashions. Summer? Oh I don't think so. Far too hot for any extra layers at all.