Sit, Stay, Art! was a successful event in support of Pets and People Human Society.  For a one-night show, the crowd was epic, and a great many pieces of art were sold.

Both my pieces sold, and I was more than happy to help the animals.  Looking forward to the next one.

There was also a quick jaunt to Kansas City with Jeri, to see the Parlotones and some snow.  There was bowling at Red Pin, a Thunder Game, and some planning for the summer time.

A lovely Saturday morning kayak outing on the river just before the cold gloomy weather returned, and some new necklaces to be offered at "A Jeweler's Art" on the Paseo, just in time for this Friday's gallery stroll.

Having heard of exotic, violet-flavored liqueurs that were once widely-available until they seemed to disappear, I found myself investigating, to see if they were really gone forever.  It seems a few are now being created again, though not always easily acquired.  At least not yet.  While waiting for the right moment to drop some $ for a special postal order, I figured it couldn't hurt to experiment a little here at home.  Due to my lenient groundskeeping technique (which means anything with a flower avoids being cut, no matter where it should be located), I've acquired a modest patch of violets in my north-facing back yard.  

Though I did feel a twinge of regret at harvesting those beautiful, happy blooms, it really is just a fair payback for those years of allowing the plants to grow and multiply. Right?

So I gathered what I could, gave them a quick rinse in cool water, packed them in a little jar and covered them in vodka.  French vodka, actually, though I doubt that really matters.

Stashed away in Tony's blue cupboard, the color quickly leached out of the flowers, leaving them pretty much white. 

Some new face painting supplies have got me excited to play around with fresh ideas.  A Chinese brush painting book is inspiring me.....

Stripey Nose II update:  I'd managed to procure a 10-day dose of amoxicillin, which I'd been putting in his wet food twice a day.  There was a little medicine leftover, so on day 11, I went out to dose him again, only he wasn't on his little cozy couch spot in the garage.  Despite my calling and searching I never spotted him again. 

Until this morning, exactly two weeks later.  It was rather a shock to see him sitting at the bottom of the back steps this morning, as if all those days hadn't elapsed.  Naturally, I immediately offered him a tin of food, which he immediately accepted. While his obviously broken back leg is still obviously broken, the other three limbs seemed much less injured and painful.  He lounged around most of the day, was still here for dinner, after which he sauntered (as much as a three-legged cat can) down the path to nestle in the shrubs by the garage.

Sadly, when I went out at dusk to check on him, he wasn't there.  Stripey Nose III (also known as Ring Tail) was lurking around, as was the big, strange, fighty ginger cat who's trying to horn in on our territory.  More disturbing than that, though, were the rather substantial blood spots and puddles that were scattered along the path and near the garage entrance.  Was it a fight?  Or a freshly-opened wound?  I don't know. I do know Stripey II is a toughy, and a survivor, but that doesn't make it any easier when worrying about him.  

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.

success?

I read somewhere that to be successful, a blog needs to be updated twice weekly, at the very least. well, at least I'm successful in some areas.......

Recent activities: mixed media painting/collage for IAO's upcoming Red Dot auction. I'm not too proud to admit I've become rather attached to this piece, and will set a reserve if given the option. (Click to enlarge, if you're interested in details.)

This painting is called "Miss Jeannie", after the homeless kitty who inspired it. By the night of Sit.Stay.ART event, all the animals except one had found real homes. Hooray. I just hope Miss Jeannie's new people look after her real good.

Next, a silhouette inspired by Annie and Bindlestiff Willie, for "Out of Sight", an IAO exhibit geared toward those with vision impairments. A challenge, to say the least, but an enjoyable one.


And lastly, a wee possum playing possum, after snacking on leftover cat food.

Lovely Rainy Day

When I don't have to work (Tuesdays, mostly) I get to play with my wardrobe. Today, after having spent time recently catching up on the vintage forum at Fedora Lounge, I decided to wear my new silk dress. And some pearls, because why not? After coffee at the Red Cup, I hated to go home, but didn't like to go shopping & risk spending money, so the best option was a damp stroll through the cemetery, camera in hand.

I wonder if faeries are buried beneath cemetery mushrooms?


Then there's the kitten Sara picked up in the street last week. She calls it Esther (all sounds pronounced; if you sound like Sylvester when you say it, you're doing it right.) I'm all about another name, at least one for me to use, but nothing has come to me yet, which is odd. It seems perfectly fine to call her kitten, little thing, wee thing, etc. I liked the idea of a literary name. Hopefully I'll discover it soon.

Even if you don't believe it, I really do have all sorts of works in the works around here, just nothing quite completed yet. So I took the camera and a fresh eye, & captured a few old pieces of art gathering dust around the house. There are more than this, but picnik has been freezing my computer during editing; I think my images are too big.
And before you give me grief, yes, I KNOW wings and hats are way, way overdone. Or at least they were last year. They are definitely de trop, and one can only hope maybe, finally, out of vogue. But my winged circus babe collage on cardboard was created in 2002, so maybe I'm forgiven.

Dai Whiskers

To think I'll never again jingle the keys & have him eagerly scamper to the car for a ride; I'll never leisurely sit in the coffee house or wander through Target for the weekly shopping, while he naps contentedly in the sundrenched backseat. I'll never pull away again under his baleful glare after I've told him "not this time, it's too hot, it's too far," etc. and he's left sitting miffed on the path. Once I put away the scattered plush toys he fetched for us, for reasons only he knew, they'll not come thumping down the stairs again, gripped in his mouth, serenaded by his caterwauling yowl, echoing through the landing. The big red Clifford (almost the size of Dai) under the table where he placed it; the little clip-on koala at the base of a lamp, the green Irish mascot hand puppet with a shock of neon orange hair, even Sara's fleecy winter boot with dangling pom-poms - they will finally rest in her room, never to be collected and dispersed around the house by our Dai Whiskers.

Farewell, Gimpy

Since September (when this photo was taken), he'd become much handsomer & happier, with a swing in his step, and an "I'm almost one of the family" air about him, poor little guy. We tried to coax him inside, but he'd only come sometimes, and only curl up in the cushy dog bed when he thought no one was watching.

I console myself with the thought he at least had a few happy months before his untimely end.

Yesterday he was discovered in the lane next to the house, mutilated & eviscerated, along with a nameless white and grey kitten (who had lost its head and front legs). I covered them both with fabric and waited for Tony to come home. He dug a grave out back, where we are sadly running out of room, and we buried them together. Gimpy was a very friendly fellow, headbutting every cat he met, so I guess it was fitting that he have a little resting mate in the grave.

Fortunately, all other cats have been accounted for, though they seemed to be lying low most of the morning - was it the especially cold weather, or the knowledge that something fierce and deadly stalks the neighborhood? Who knows.

I have spied a pair of large black dogs roaming free, and am now compelled to dust off the bb gun and have it at the ready in case they wander round these parts again.

RIP Gimpy and your little pal.