tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23215747085378127052024-03-20T01:22:07.585-07:00Thursday's ChildAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.comBlogger108125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-54877714768414191272013-12-09T08:17:00.001-08:002013-12-09T08:17:32.531-08:00European Skull Mounts<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUj_MkHah5ktSVyvbNqvb02DG5vGDoQMEkC8-po6vz68fD6FmAaO5_IRPWgbOscukVO39I-H0Z2pTyXS4VHRxRDIT4KylS5FaHmP4WiR0bTfpHPpiNUIMZSJa0PRTSCHaYF5UJucUXdWFa/s1600/golden-buck.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUj_MkHah5ktSVyvbNqvb02DG5vGDoQMEkC8-po6vz68fD6FmAaO5_IRPWgbOscukVO39I-H0Z2pTyXS4VHRxRDIT4KylS5FaHmP4WiR0bTfpHPpiNUIMZSJa0PRTSCHaYF5UJucUXdWFa/s320/golden-buck.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvU8IpzSdv5zN261Lu6pH89oUyd37ClQHMvyA0JVj2YMhnxJmUZsD0rINbiL0BdL3CIVyNb1FqWFCL8h_RkKaur9zx6V5ocJItXsZcdl01FCcTFpDirM5ONbPw6GVQMv2gMgUzGHRR06F7/s1600/golden-buck-closeup.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvU8IpzSdv5zN261Lu6pH89oUyd37ClQHMvyA0JVj2YMhnxJmUZsD0rINbiL0BdL3CIVyNb1FqWFCL8h_RkKaur9zx6V5ocJItXsZcdl01FCcTFpDirM5ONbPw6GVQMv2gMgUzGHRR06F7/s320/golden-buck-closeup.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicXEeHC-QBR_Lv9oj8jFlW270kMYjqC8f5RNQQJz5Q0JvL1iyL4jXg-lSEvqXCIUkpd8FfJWzUo7X3v6S3n6Vud3MKXv6VGtuY4Jzv697giuZ8hhrvJ7hluJpLzbc3c1MEU3DKeiHcv79V/s1600/silver-buck.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicXEeHC-QBR_Lv9oj8jFlW270kMYjqC8f5RNQQJz5Q0JvL1iyL4jXg-lSEvqXCIUkpd8FfJWzUo7X3v6S3n6Vud3MKXv6VGtuY4Jzv697giuZ8hhrvJ7hluJpLzbc3c1MEU3DKeiHcv79V/s320/silver-buck.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHcHHj1T4hwzMpJUFsyyMI0ceEIhyphenhyphenW2Gb1lOZeny9t7ru0RWgPxEPLVatMkBUF1Y1C4jdjAN-eNI2D8aEcjAikMx8PUnmBMUT0F8Z6P0SB_fP37Jhftl-ehunIw1NFKs0wpnBdaYLjcf3D/s1600/silver-buck-close-up.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHcHHj1T4hwzMpJUFsyyMI0ceEIhyphenhyphenW2Gb1lOZeny9t7ru0RWgPxEPLVatMkBUF1Y1C4jdjAN-eNI2D8aEcjAikMx8PUnmBMUT0F8Z6P0SB_fP37Jhftl-ehunIw1NFKs0wpnBdaYLjcf3D/s320/silver-buck-close-up.jpg" /></a>Here's my latest project, one that I wanted to do for years but couldn't come by a European mounted deer skull. I live in a family of hunters, so you'd think this wouldn't be such a big deal, but the process to get the clean skull is an arduous one, and you won't find skulls or antlers lying around in the woods because varmints will eat them completely in a year's time. Then my son mentioned that he had one lying in a shed (one that he had boiled and stripped himself) that I could have! Long story short, my husband almost immediately came up with a second one, an embarrassment of riches for sure.<br />
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I could have taken photos of my progress over a couple of months (yes, it's labor intensive), but sticking mosaics and crystals onto a surface is pretty straight forward stuff. The hard part is narrowing down the bazillion choices of what materials to use and then having the patience to stick with it. A little tip that I happened on by trial and error for handling the crystals, is to take a small piece of beeswax and use it as a tool to pick them up and set onto the glued surface. It works perfectly, unlike the "tools" you can buy for the same job. I tackled the first skull (from my husband) and gold leafed the antlers, then began gluing shiny shell fragments I already had to it and then grouted it with white grout. Those antlers look spectacular and shine even better since I brushed a sealant onto them. <br />
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The second one, I silver leafed the antlers and then started with what I imagined to be a goodly amount of genuine Swarovski crystals. They're nice crystals, a tad pricey, and shine like no other, but lemme tell you, they don't go very far, even the larger ones. I reordered a ton of crystals in multiple sizes, three times! So needless to say, this skull is an expensive wall decoration, but I was committed and wasn't about to go cheap and use any other crystals. The silver antlers have been sealed, too, and look as if they're made of sterling silver.<br />
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I didn't want a lot of embellishments on them. I put a big dragonfly broach and a few pieces of turquoise on the golden buck; a sparkly, vintage choker necklace I picked up years ago at a yard sale made a nice addition to the silver buck. I'm really happy with the results; they're both more beautiful than the pictures show. The shell mosaiced one has tribal look to it, and the crystal skull is nothing short of fantastic, but it's the hardest one to photograph. <br />
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I plan to hang them over the mantle, and I ordered 2 hooks made just for mounting deer skulls. Hubby had a board of aged barn wood that he cut into two pieces, and I faux aged them a little more with streaks of acrylic paint that I mixed (antique white + black). Finishing a project is always a little sad, like finishing a good book, but I'll find my next art victims soon. This icy winter weather is perfect for sitting indoors and creating. Thanks for stopping by. Regards, Cat Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-36429907945681573542013-01-09T03:06:00.001-08:002013-01-09T03:06:31.235-08:00One Month on 1,2, 3 Diet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It has been one month since I began David Buchholz' migraine diet. It hasn't been as hard as I'd thought, even though I began right smack dab in the middle of the Holidays. The most amazing discovery I've made is that I can eat white chocolate! As much as I want without triggering anything besides a shift in the numbers on my bathroom scales.<br />
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Even though this is the most hopeful I've been in many, many years, I didn't expect to become migraine-free instantly, and yes, I've had one migraine, but not a killer, and it was sort of an ah-ha! moment in this experimental journey. Jim and I always eat New Year's Eve dinner at Red Lobster. It just happened that way because on the day we got married, this was the only restaurant open in the evening, so it's "our place" by default. I played it safe and had boiled crab legs. They're legal. I pushed the envelope a bit by having a Cesar salad, knowing that the dressing most likely had MSG in it, otherwise I was a good girl.....I thought. You know those darn <i>Cheddar Bay</i> biscuits they're famous for? Jim and I both love them, and I had not one but two. Only later at home, when the migraine aura began to creep over me, did I think OMG! <i>Cheddar!</i> That's one of the big no-no's, not to mention the ton of MSG they probably sneak into the "natural butter flavorings". Anyway, I braced for the big one, knowing I was off the Triptans, at least through the 4 month trial, and took an Aleve. Amazingly, it calmed the approaching migraine storm enough for me to sleep. I still had a heavy "shadow" all the next day, Christmas Day, but I took an Advil and made it fine. On the day after, the migraine was gone. Whew! That was close.<br />
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There are no restaurants, at least around here, that are safe for migraineurs watching their diet, but you pick and choose and do the best you can, and we don't ordinarily eat out more than 3 or 4 times a month, anyway. Last week, we ate at our favorite Mexican restaurant, a little hole-in-the wall called Coco's that always has great Tex-Mex and who know us so well that when we walk in, our waiter, Aba (pronounced Ah-bee), brings two frozen margaritas to our table and orders two fajita plates for us. In the name of science (of course), I decided to go ahead and have the margarita, even though vodka is the only approved liquor, but I did forgo the guacamole.....who would have believed I'd ever have to give up avocados? And I didn't eat the Pico de Gallo because of the fresh onions in it. I made it just fine, no repercussions. According to Dr. Buccholz, there's a threshold for each of us that involves the stresses we put on our bodies, other than and including food. When we reach that threshold, the migraine is triggered, so it's possible that once I get the hang of this, I could splurge occasionally and not spend days or weeks in bed with migraine. Wouldn't that be something?<br />
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Another thing to watch for is <i>nitrates</i> in foods like deli meat, sausage, bacon and Canadian bacon. I don't miss the deli meat, but the breakfast meats are a big loss. I love breakfast. So, I tried making my first batch of homemade sausage. It turned out pretty well, but I've got some tweaking to do on the recipe. It's time consuming but not hard. I soaked a pork tenderloin in water to get out some of the added nitrates that they stick in all the meat we eat. In my parents' and grandparents' day, a butchered animal went straight to the table, the freezer, or to be canned or cured with salt and sugar. Today it hangs in lockers for days or even weeks, then has to remain bright and fresh looking for several more days in the display counters, and that's why all the added nitrates. Anyway, I cut the tenderloin into strips, and we ground it in the electric grinder, then added olive oil and spices like sage, red pepper flakes, black pepper and salt. It doesn't taste like store bought sausage, but that's because there's no added sugars, colorings, chemicals or MSG. I like it, but Jim doesn't. He doesn't eat breakfast often, but when he does, I don't mind cooking 2 kinds of sausage. There also aren't any organic farms around here. That would be nirvana, to have a supplier of free range pork, beef, and chicken. We do the best we can.<br />
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If migraines were only <i>headaches</i>, none of this dieting would be worth it, but a migraine is excruciating and debilitating. In the US someone goes to the emergency room every 10 seconds with a migraine. I've been to the emergency room a few times, but even there they couldn't stop the pain, so I've stayed home and dealt with it. I wish I'd found this book, <i>Heal Your Headache</i> earlier, but there's a zen saying that when the student is ready the teacher will come. Maybe I'm just now ready.<br />
Wishing you pain-free days and healing, restful nights,<br />
Cat<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-67720865919350115612012-12-23T07:30:00.000-08:002012-12-23T07:30:25.560-08:00Day Sixteen<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1thLbGNYEBxUh3QkE_VqOpzffZJ2j8ud0Zr2qtp80AC_M66ZCEjPQvNVLDGuWOG4Y0QNm-hUhv-rDHOedHaK7c5zQp2OKOq3G2lW3meM3LoPxfdiHsL6ts-ouvtkyw6NDLkuO3tIA1QQu/s1600/Day-16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1thLbGNYEBxUh3QkE_VqOpzffZJ2j8ud0Zr2qtp80AC_M66ZCEjPQvNVLDGuWOG4Y0QNm-hUhv-rDHOedHaK7c5zQp2OKOq3G2lW3meM3LoPxfdiHsL6ts-ouvtkyw6NDLkuO3tIA1QQu/s400/Day-16.jpg" width="400" /></a>(<i>Second post in my migraine journal</i>) Sixteen days without a migraine is nowhere a record for me, but I've been having a rough go of it lately, so it's notable. My poor Jim has gotten so he's skittish about my mentioning days without migraine because he thinks it might trigger one. He has been right there with me on this pain-filled journey.<br />
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I've given up migraine <i>trigger foods</i> before, for a few weeks, but I've never known nor given them all up at once, and the list is staggering at first. Actually, it lists nearly <i>all</i> of my favorite and daily foods. There are tons of trigger lists in books and online, and they all name many of the same foods, but there are significant differences, and I decided to follow this one for now. If it doesn't do the job, I'll subtract foods on other lists from my diet. But when I began reading in the Buchholz book, I thought "Well, goody. At least he says I can drink water."<br />
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The main foods I've put aside for at least 4 months are <b>caffeine </b>(I adore coffee but thought I was being so good drinking decaf coffee, green tea, or Teeccino....Nope! to all of these.), <b>cheese </b>(Except for un-aged American cheese; I hadn't considered how many of my favorite foods have cheddar or mozzarella, or Parmesan in them.), <b>chocolate</b> (except for white chocolate), <b>avocados</b>, (What's a salad without avocado?) <b>balsamic vinegar</b> and <b>apple cider vinegar</b> (For years, I've cooked with, drunk, and bathed in ACV), <b>MSG</b> (been trying to avoid that stuff for years), <b>processed meats</b> (like deli turkey, canned tuna and salmon), <b>nuts</b> (I couldn't believe nuts. They've been my healthy go-to food forever.), <b>alcohol</b> (I'm not much of a drinker, but I have enjoyed my frozen Margarita once a week or so at our favorite Mexican restaurant. Instead, I can have vodka. Woohoo.), <b>citrus fruits</b> (Fresh squeezed lemon juice is a staple for me, and when I get a cold, I want a bag of Clementine oranges.), <b>pineapples</b> (Who knew? There have been times when I bought one or two fresh pineapples a week, sliced them up and kept them in a ziplock bag in the fridge. What could be a healthier snack?), <b>sauerkraut</b> (I've even learned to make my own.), <b>onions</b> (Almost everything I cook has dehydrated or fresh onions in it.),<b> freshly baked</b> <b>bread</b> (I've been baking loaves of bread and pans of crescent rolls my whole adult life. Turns out, even store bought bread is less likely to trigger than fresh bread.), and there are others, but these are the ones having the biggest impact (apparently) on my life.<br />
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Of course it's somewhat easier eating at home than it is in restaurants or other people's homes. My first Christmas party was an eye-opener. First, the spinach, almond, and strawberry salad with raspberry dressing, I put my slivered almonds on Jim's plate and didn't have any dressing. Dry, fresh spinach. Yum. The fresh dinner rolls looked and smelled amazing, but I passed the plate on around. The main course was okay, and then for dessert, we had a choice of cheesecake or chocolate cake. Usually, I would have gone for the chocolate, but the cheesecake was amazing. <br />
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As I mention foods and excerpts from my current program in David Buchholz's book, I hope you won't think you can find everything online and don't need to own the book. The program is easy to summarize, but there's so much wisdom in his book, insights I've never known in 40+ years of searching for answers. And I've done a lot of reading in these years, so if I slip up and mention a food that's not in his book, all the more reason to have his book to check the facts for yourself.<br />
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So that's where I am as of this moment. I was thrilled beyond words that giving up the caffeine didn't give me a rebound migraine as you might expect. And I've had some <i>head-achy</i> mornings and nights when I felt it could be the aura of a migraine creeping up on me, but I've taken one of the NSAIDs he recommends, and so far, so good. Leave me a message if anything I've said isn't clear. Have a wonderful Christmas!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-11567692714867834102012-12-11T04:43:00.000-08:002012-12-11T04:43:21.114-08:00Heal Your Headache, a Migraine Journey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I haven't talked much here about migraines. I don't talk much about them in my day-to-day life, either. When the neighbors notice that I haven't been around much, Jim knows to tell them I've got a cold or something....I don't want to be known as that poor lady who has those awful <i>headaches</i>. But I've been struggling with migraine my whole adult life. At one time or another, it has ruined Christmases, vacations, and keeps us from planning outings more than a couple of days ahead. I have the best husband in the world, and if I said I wanted to go to Venice with some friends, he'd make sure I had everything I needed. I don't go, though, because it's bad lying in a hotel room in some fun destination, staring into the black haze. At least now, I can go to bed and deal with it in the darkness of my bedroom. The real hell was teaching and counseling through the blinding pain. Yeah, those were the worst of times. <br />
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I've run the gamut of doctors and specialists, enough to make me extremely cynical toward the medical profession. I've gone to emergency rooms in the middle of the night, where they knocked me out with drugs, and I woke up with the migraine. I've studied migraines voraciously. I read books, scour the net, and try every remedy that friends, family and strangers mention, no matter how far fetched. Some said that when I went through menopause, the migraines would stop. Ah! Now there was a light at the end of my tunnel. Well, I've done menopause, and the migraines didn't change. I don't want to know how much money I've spent chasing this elusive dream of a migraine-free life. <br />
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On an average, I have a migraine every two weeks, and they usually last 1-3 days, but there was a time when my migraine journal showed me with migraine 70% of the time. It varies. Just after Thanksgiving, though, when I usually decorate with gay abandon, inside and out, for Christmas, I got a killer migraine. Yes, they come in varying degrees, too. This one lasted 14 days, and when it was over, Christmas had been sucked from me. I didn't want to decorate or shop. Then it took another 3 days to stop wobbling around like an old lady. Hush! I am not an old lady, but I'm getting older, and it takes longer to recover from the ordeal. Lately I've been taking <i>Axert</i>, one of the <i>Triptans</i>. They rarely end the migraine but take the edge off, sometimes. I'm afraid of Triptans. When I was giving myself <i>Sumatriptan</i> injections, I felt as if it would stop my heart. I would sit on the edge of the bed, inject it into my thigh, and fall backwards into near unconsciousness, first telling Jim to keep an eye on me to see if I were breathing.<br />
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I recently discovered <i>Pinterest</i>. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. It's like getting a stack of new magazines each day in 101 subjects, the number of Boards I currently have. My latest Board is titled <i>Migraine</i>. I'm coming out of the closet a bit. And that's how I stumbled onto Dr. David Buchholz's book and ordered it from Amazon.com. By the time it arrived, I had come to think this was more wasted dollars. The book has hundreds of glowing reviews, but it also has some loud detractors in reviews and blogs who have called him an arrogant jerk who looks down on his patients and readers. So, I opened its pages with much skepticism. When he said that I would have to get off my Triptans, completely, I wrote smart alecky comments in the margins. (I carry on a conversation with most of my books, in ink.) But then, I settled into it and grudgingly admitted he was making sense. And then I decided to follow the program, and that's why I'm blogging. I first dedicated myself to 4 months, but today I read a girl's blog who didn't see results for 8 months. Hey, if I get results, I'm in for the rest of my life. I plan to share this journey on my blog.<br />
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In between, I'll still blog about whatever catches my attention, but I hope blogging my experiences, whether the David Buchhuolz program works or not, will help some other <i>migraineurs</i> (still now sure if I like that word). It's not an easy program. The diet lists each an every one of my favorite foods, but I remind myself that no food is worth the agony of a migraine. Yes, he is a doctor, but he seems to have left the herd behind. And yes, he's making money off his book, but his program is geared toward getting migraine sufferers to the point of being self sufficient, not making lifelong dependents on meds and office calls. We'll see.<br />
Wishing you Blessings and pain-free Holidays,<br />
CatAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-55635682182813673042012-11-10T04:08:00.001-08:002012-11-10T04:08:51.777-08:00Drinking Marigolds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We've had a frost or two, and the nights are chilly enough that most of my flowers have gone to rest, but the Marigolds still glow in the afternoon and morning sun. I have an affinity for these flowers, love the smell of them, the moist coolness of the blooms. They're more than just a pretty flower, though. When made into a tea, cream, salve or tincture, they're called <i>Calendula</i> and have many health benefits. I picked some blooms Thursday and brought them in to dehydrate for tea.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4CcAo5bTHbmXhE1AojTZIWY43QxnfjTe66EBbYYgDCkcxwSWS7jA0IiYRJIEzODt0UL5VFgOGQR-43C0_48BNNuI-fNlkM0h2ge8f7rUkQSHOjmfdVD4fHRUrWRG3rvcCJgWwZa1KpJmb/s1600/Marigold-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4CcAo5bTHbmXhE1AojTZIWY43QxnfjTe66EBbYYgDCkcxwSWS7jA0IiYRJIEzODt0UL5VFgOGQR-43C0_48BNNuI-fNlkM0h2ge8f7rUkQSHOjmfdVD4fHRUrWRG3rvcCJgWwZa1KpJmb/s400/Marigold-3.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
I also picked some Stevia leaves to dry with them, which I've tried dehydrating and then grinding, but the powder tends to float in the tea, so this time I'm leaving the leaves whole, and maybe a trace of their sweetness will develop along with the Marigold tea.
I washed them in vinegar water, mostly to drown any tiny bugs living in the blooms, let them drain, and then spread them on a cookie sheet. We have some dehydrators, but when possible, I'd rather use my oven. I put these in for most of the day on 170 degrees, the lowest my oven will go.
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They're not 100% dehydrated, but I figure the longer they "cook" the more nutrients are lost, so I'm planning to keep them in the freezer. You can also shred them up, but they're so much prettier this way. You can't say many commercially prepared herbal teas are <i>pretty</i>.
Adding hot water to a couple of blooms and a Stevia leaf causes them the <i>blossom</i> all over again. They taste like sweet grasses.....but that's really what all herbal teas taste like to me. I could add coconut milk or lemon or agave nectar, but I usually don't.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgygCl4fG6r5swKZyuxa_ob4EgDQHcO8hyRj_6-3WVDt5G6Dg9BwQfCXdeMk3qLmoXqG9qWrVaFGotm1YlcGFVfLM21UsDT2nIevABT8wGrrF0uyz0caIx5ihiHPjIdJIxsCO8JAB2Z9CBJ/s1600/marigold-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgygCl4fG6r5swKZyuxa_ob4EgDQHcO8hyRj_6-3WVDt5G6Dg9BwQfCXdeMk3qLmoXqG9qWrVaFGotm1YlcGFVfLM21UsDT2nIevABT8wGrrF0uyz0caIx5ihiHPjIdJIxsCO8JAB2Z9CBJ/s400/marigold-4.jpg" width="336" /></a></div>
Drinking herbal teas isn't an instant cure-all. It's a quiet, patient process that builds on itself. Calendula is known for its ability to heal minor skin infections, cuts, and bruises, as well as a host of other benefits.
The component of the Calendula flower that gives it its bright orange color is beta-carotene. The flowers also contain essential oils and sugars that are known to stimulate the immune system, making it ideal to drink when you think you are on the verge of a cold, or to speed healing. As an anti-inflammatory and anti-bacterial agent, it can be quite helpful and is used for ear infections, eye infections, and to relieve sore throats. It's also helpful in treating digestive disorders. When used in skin care, it has been shown to increase the production of collagen in the body, leading to a more youthful appearance. So, I just thought I would share my pretty tea with you. I plan to dehydrate more blooms before the first hard freeze kills my glowing Marigolds.
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-64869040257826973142012-07-11T03:46:00.003-07:002012-07-11T04:15:06.166-07:00Promoting a Book<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvae2cr8xuqNguBmzh5NfJ041jbzQ3UKJiEH4m9rVID68mzRmzTLjv40H6ZW_rayR13T_BLrIoCIzRn0V6Xu2GOV_NGabIYq6E403FekIE62W0uDGw7iQvw0ZBrr3aF8SQMROz7svyADQ9/s1600/signing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvae2cr8xuqNguBmzh5NfJ041jbzQ3UKJiEH4m9rVID68mzRmzTLjv40H6ZW_rayR13T_BLrIoCIzRn0V6Xu2GOV_NGabIYq6E403FekIE62W0uDGw7iQvw0ZBrr3aF8SQMROz7svyADQ9/s400/signing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5763861678000485954" border="0" /></a><br />When I left the Cabot Library yesterday, I thought of the Steve Martin movie, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Jerk</span>, where he's running down the street waving a book and yelling, "The new phonebooks are here! The newphone books are here!" because his name was now in print. I had just asked the head librarian, a pretty, friendly lady with wild, black flowing hair, how I might go about getting my new novel, <span style="font-style: italic;">Going over Jordan</span>, on the list to be purchased by the library. She said just give her the title and author, and she would order it that same day. Wow! I'll be able to look my book up online in the card catalog. Who'd a thunk it?<br /><br />I'm finding that the writing is the fun part. The promoting, not so much. Putting myself and my book out <span style="font-style: italic;">there</span> is sort of excruciating for an introvert. But I'm getting great feedback from the people who have bought it. Maybe the ones who detest it are keeping mum. That's okay :) The book signing went awesomely, stupendously well, but of course I had images of me sitting there for 3 hours all by my lonesome. Some of us regularly expect the worst and then are often pleasantly surprised. My friend and former classmate, Linda Spurlock, took the above pic. Maybe she won't sue me for using it without permission. But then a lawsuit would be publicity......like they say in Hollywood, bad publicity is better than no publicity.<br /><br />My publisher, Rick Baber, said for me to just keep plugging on the promotion stuff, but he also said that he thinks it's going to be an important book someday. Gee, Rick, I hope you're right! I'll be running down the street, waving my book, screaming, "They like my book! They like my book!"Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-16642789105391240222012-05-24T03:41:00.003-07:002012-05-24T03:51:19.515-07:00My Book Went Live!This is a quickie post to say that my publisher, Rick Baber, pushed the button last night to make my book go live.<br /><br />https://www.createspace.com/3877477<br /><br />It will soon be on Rick's site as well and then Amazon.com<br /><br />This is seriously exciting. You write for months, wondering if it's any good, and then comes the day when you release it onto an unsuspecting world. When my proof arrived in the mail, I thought it was just some book I'd ordered. My heart skipped a beat when I tore open the package and actually held it in my hands.<br /><br />I hope you'll buy my book and give me feedback. There's already another one in the works.<br />Thanks for stopping by!<br />Luv,<br />CatAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-84077865378453403552012-05-14T04:12:00.005-07:002012-05-14T05:34:32.200-07:00Going over Jordan<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRu1evp9xBJSDsjS1uQy3fh2dMAkBzJUh89BhN6MpW3Q1n9Pp_kHP35QDoPdw4WjAL5V_8TmVt3PDZyZNJ9cT-yWgm6x7uWPT9dRgPC6SC_cLYhx-RGEcAf8gLL8I9ArvMDiEd0KqhAQdk/s1600/Going-over-Jordan-front.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRu1evp9xBJSDsjS1uQy3fh2dMAkBzJUh89BhN6MpW3Q1n9Pp_kHP35QDoPdw4WjAL5V_8TmVt3PDZyZNJ9cT-yWgm6x7uWPT9dRgPC6SC_cLYhx-RGEcAf8gLL8I9ArvMDiEd0KqhAQdk/s400/Going-over-Jordan-front.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5742347597662306162" border="0" /></a><br />I've always thought I could write a novel. Well, it looks as if I have! A year ago, almost to the day, I began writing a story....actually I began taking dictation as the story told itself to me. When I really got into the process, I would wake up mornings excited, wanting to find out what would happen to <span style="font-style:italic;">Callie</span> today.<br /><br />The writing is the fun part, though. Then you may want to expose your wordy creation to the world. You want people to love your baby as much as you do, but you steel yourself to the reality that it may not be, and you press onward anyway, because writing is meant to be read.<br /><br />Jim was the first to read it, which surprised us both because he's more of a <span style="font-style:italic;">Louis L'amour</span> type of guy and only reads when he's at deer camp and wants to fall asleep. But once he got into it, he was excited about my story and urged me on when I grew weary and wanted to stick it in a file and go onto my next addiction. (The man has always been my biggest fan, whether I'm writing for a magazine, painting, or smearing grout on a mosaic guitar.) He also helped with editing and made lots of suggestions, most of which I agreed with because his logical, engineering mind saw gaps that my Pisces Dreaming mind skimmed over.<br /><br />The next step was to let a few friends read a couple of chapters. I told them, <span style="font-style: italic;">forget you know me. Read it as if you picked it up on a bookstore shelf. Make notes of errors and problems, also questions you have about the plot, etc. Be specific. </span>One said she really liked it. Period. Another, a lifelong friend, asked if it were "autobiographical" and said, "If it is, it's creeping me out." No, it's not about me or anybody I ever knew. My sister took it and then simply said, "You know I'm not much of a reader." Okaaay. Finally, I sent it to an online friend whom I've known for several years. She just got through self-publishing her own book, and when I skimmed over her chapters, I was guilty of saying that's very good and leaving it at that. Hey, I was more interested in writing my book. She, however, started her critique of mine off with, "Of course you've always been a good writer, but..." That's never a good sign. She then proceeded to lambast each and every detail of the two random chapters I'd sent her, going on for pages with numbered bullets about how she hated it and how unreadable it was. Gee, that was helpful.<br /><br />Bloody but unbowed, I finished up the gazillionth rewrite (based only on mine and Jim's critiques) and sent it to a local publisher who immediately said he loved it and would definitely publish it. Now we were getting somewhere. He gave it to his editor and said she was so excited about it and kept copying phrases from it to send to him. He said that's unusual. I said, "Thank you, Jesus."<br /><br />Now it looks as if my baby will be released this week or at least this month. Hey, if nobody reads it, or if they read it and don't like it, at least, I've published a book. I've got plenty more addictions that need tending.<br /><br />Here's what the blurb on the back of the book says (I did my own cover, by the way).<br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:splitpgbreakandparamark/> <w:dontvertaligncellwithsp/> <w:dontbreakconstrainedforcedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> <w:word11kerningpairs/> <w:cachedcolbalance/> </w:Compatibility> 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mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">"How do you walk away from the life and the only security you've known, with a few belongings and your best friend, who happens to be a teddy bear, and start over?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">In the summer of 1962, in a rural community nestled deep in the foothills of the Ozarks, Callie Jaggers finds out in the twinkling of an eye that the suspect truths she has built her young life upon are lies when she is brutally molested, left for dead and then thrown to the wolves. But in this spellbinding Southern Gothic tale, this might be the gateway to the life she was born to live. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Going over Jordan</i> is a journey that spans a lifetime and more, as Callie learns to face her own inner demons, as well as a very real nightmare that stalks her through the forest and just won't leave her alone. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Her own healing begins when Callie accepts her ability to heal others and learns that sometimes our true family is not the one we were born into. Her journey takes us to an extraordinary world of labyrinths, ancient crystal caverns, of moonstones with the power to restore the light that's been stolen, and the Wolf Clan who avenges its own. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And Happily Ever After? Well, that would be giving away the ending, wouldn't it?"<br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiduo2vjXanf4QSP4DDDO0-qJpgzdT62LEhcQ_Kl7YkCpSSKgs6Hd1mk5nz2rkZYkgKuXa_xV4ZjXeNq-FwuqhJ0zucl8eoVxBzOObrTKLWMaunwY9yij_CJDyfMEH-sxybLzJMwT-sjb62/s1600/Going-over-Jordan-back.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiduo2vjXanf4QSP4DDDO0-qJpgzdT62LEhcQ_Kl7YkCpSSKgs6Hd1mk5nz2rkZYkgKuXa_xV4ZjXeNq-FwuqhJ0zucl8eoVxBzOObrTKLWMaunwY9yij_CJDyfMEH-sxybLzJMwT-sjb62/s400/Going-over-Jordan-back.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5742347589977565794" border="0" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-36419829678397580322012-05-02T03:49:00.000-07:002012-05-02T03:49:09.005-07:00Straw Bale GardeningIt has been a busy spring. My first adventure with straw bale gardening has had its ups and downs, what with battalions of slugs chomping away at my plants. After I sort of got them under control, I replanted the beans, peas, okra and cucumbers. Chilly nights have kept things from really taking off, but I thought I'd post a few pics for those who have been wondering about and considering straw bale gardening or just a backyard/container garden.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4UglLidHvyZe9ymYux6RXkQM1rDgeQq13fO2xJWMctICObFIaW3s2l7YHxhhIbt9Kmb54vwilFd3I4Uwieojggbqsm3F840EoIYbKMKyBsNk3U6iacINLlcY-31l4c7VZiBQHFsSZLsl0/s1600/Tomatoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4UglLidHvyZe9ymYux6RXkQM1rDgeQq13fO2xJWMctICObFIaW3s2l7YHxhhIbt9Kmb54vwilFd3I4Uwieojggbqsm3F840EoIYbKMKyBsNk3U6iacINLlcY-31l4c7VZiBQHFsSZLsl0/s400/Tomatoes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
I have 3 tomato plants; a yellow pear, Brandywine, and Better Boy
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ESbDn9I6LpFiem57b477_gMAL8ZaCVl5qxnIvb5bUjC9sKPU2zrYmIkGahUhVsLdldey2GLKkr7M6XWVyze6iz2shRGSrD9dzEigCMBLsyO6B1KdDZQg4tbIiHbkT_9zwZGH-y8ERxTD/s1600/cantelopes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8ESbDn9I6LpFiem57b477_gMAL8ZaCVl5qxnIvb5bUjC9sKPU2zrYmIkGahUhVsLdldey2GLKkr7M6XWVyze6iz2shRGSrD9dzEigCMBLsyO6B1KdDZQg4tbIiHbkT_9zwZGH-y8ERxTD/s400/cantelopes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Cantaloupes and sweet peppers.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivAgdkp1WQ0zjE-PTIQz-4tO5C6ywUj6MVoMFSLBmBwzGxVDAbaAWFFJMFmouCAY1jHZ3mF1bH4YbsF7bRXNavYWX6N6Zo9THWECrZwrugEv9wuf0kTo2kvkqRciVSFBAtGMWlSLg5QW0-/s1600/Carrots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivAgdkp1WQ0zjE-PTIQz-4tO5C6ywUj6MVoMFSLBmBwzGxVDAbaAWFFJMFmouCAY1jHZ3mF1bH4YbsF7bRXNavYWX6N6Zo9THWECrZwrugEv9wuf0kTo2kvkqRciVSFBAtGMWlSLg5QW0-/s400/Carrots.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Carrots in a planter box.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9_f6__R1sjzfulj9Ac066WHPHrj2syRsH-1aWWjY8iRCtNCisrLzHIE0zpNXS3odl2CLbGeVE4_fu60QsByB9dBH66yEwqoKwLWirbokbHvQwhscmBIWKFooJmQa7v0cQf-W7ey_YMle/s1600/Cilantro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9_f6__R1sjzfulj9Ac066WHPHrj2syRsH-1aWWjY8iRCtNCisrLzHIE0zpNXS3odl2CLbGeVE4_fu60QsByB9dBH66yEwqoKwLWirbokbHvQwhscmBIWKFooJmQa7v0cQf-W7ey_YMle/s400/Cilantro.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Cilantro<br />
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General kitchen herbs
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Lemon Balm and Oxalis
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Mixed lettuce
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Parsley
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Pole Beans, the idea being that they'll climb the metal tower. C'mon guys, you can do it!
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Sweet peas. Jim built the trellises for me, of course.The marigolds scattered everywhere are supposed to protect the veggies, but in the worst of the slug attack, they were mowing down the marigolds, too!<br />
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Two pear trees and a new fig tree. Also, a peach tree, but the frost bit the blooms off, no peaches this year.
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A new grapevine.
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And I got a rain barrel. Now if it would just rain enough to fill it. That's it for now. As things grow, I'll post more pics. <br />
By the way, those slugs, I tried every remedy I read about, including sawdust, diatomaceous earth, coffee, sand, and saucers of beer. Of these, the beer worked best, but they still kept coming, even though I was out in the middle of the night, with my flashlight, salting drunken slugs. I finally ordered <i>Slug-go</i> from Amazon.com. That stuff works, but it's expensive, and you have to sprinkle it heavily and fairly often.<br />
So, with slug remedies, replanting, and everything else involved in planting and tending a garden, my little garden is fairly expensive, but I love going out in the mornings with my huge cup of coffee (not really coffee, but that's another post) in hand and walking around, looking at my garden. It's worth the trouble and cost. I'll post more pics as my garden grows.<br />
Thanks for stopping by,<br />
CatAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-69076580867641834192012-04-10T16:50:00.012-07:002012-04-11T04:25:51.430-07:00Mosaic Guitar<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfp_L9piJRQr2GtSTH7EseKiK4OZvxGKN7tkZpMMJjD_cd2f8_nDLAq9pZxHpxCBK88h66jzpYTse3bYzUfLDa7j53H2RQVFthFOkzLD3q9xjDliJtrgsIViIeE0uSQljO_2bmoOJnakKF/s1600/dulcimer.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfp_L9piJRQr2GtSTH7EseKiK4OZvxGKN7tkZpMMJjD_cd2f8_nDLAq9pZxHpxCBK88h66jzpYTse3bYzUfLDa7j53H2RQVFthFOkzLD3q9xjDliJtrgsIViIeE0uSQljO_2bmoOJnakKF/s400/dulcimer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729924304699396770" border="0" /></a><br />A couple of years ago, I blogged about the old dulcimer that I mosaiced (is that a word?), and I'm finally getting around to doing a guitar. Doing mosaics isn't hard. I don't make diagrams or elaborate tile plans, but I experiment with placement as I go. Also, you have to not mind cut, raw fingers and a dirty workspace. Here's the dulcimer:<br /><br />It's hard to get great pics of shiny objects. I tried taking them outside and shooting without a flash. It worked fairly well. I looked for an old guitar, but the ones I found were considered vintage or something and were expensive, so I bought a <span style="font-style:italic;">beginner</span> guitar on Amazon.com for fairly cheap. It had a beautiful finish, and I hated to sand it down, but anything in the name of art.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvMgq18NNCj0nqsPRxCqE6-Mh4PPv8KvFWiderKYzgViYtqriM1bwCWZbUNWwiaqKe5WCNWpLaJ6nn8dNIjHQc13Q9PA3oCGPtYrTYZ8b0XEALw3tFMblOHiUeO1V-9HY3m3_FJcct3yiZ/s1600/guitar-1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvMgq18NNCj0nqsPRxCqE6-Mh4PPv8KvFWiderKYzgViYtqriM1bwCWZbUNWwiaqKe5WCNWpLaJ6nn8dNIjHQc13Q9PA3oCGPtYrTYZ8b0XEALw3tFMblOHiUeO1V-9HY3m3_FJcct3yiZ/s400/guitar-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729925352196004130" border="0" /></a><br />So, I began gluing tiles using <span style="font-style:italic;">Weldbond</span> glue. It doesn't have a noxious odor (no migraine), it's workable for several minutes so I can change my mind, and when it dries, it's clear and extremely strong. You can see my pencil lines where I experimented with tile placement.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNxj8y9rlcDEBhpqkye_9Cxg0wyFJi6O8jhrSdmR9GfAvjXy6rPc_9iMb-Tk-Te1lDkZoL5ekH1fOBkwCSJBpHbjpeqOf-HPpq57PyFsAfzpCOo2deD_d2DFRlgVZcqakQIji9Oimyaqej/s1600/guitar-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNxj8y9rlcDEBhpqkye_9Cxg0wyFJi6O8jhrSdmR9GfAvjXy6rPc_9iMb-Tk-Te1lDkZoL5ekH1fOBkwCSJBpHbjpeqOf-HPpq57PyFsAfzpCOo2deD_d2DFRlgVZcqakQIji9Oimyaqej/s400/guitar-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729926246046532610" border="0" /></a><br />I glued clear, rounded stones inside because the hole in a guitar is so big. (I forgot to take pics of the back, and I'm too lazy to go do it now, but I covered it with irregular pink and teal stones that look like stones in the bottom of a river to me.)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNoFOSCH5x37GZqoI5QuYVbyAlLvA68iuc_817FLGw8pJOu6uZl70IdfplvhjdWYfPGdbE0NU7ab4UarOUIev7NnhxNRheYOkXQENpTOehpAQoAbiqPrAFvPjKXeB6s5GceVrmg_kmUJ3V/s1600/guitar-3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNoFOSCH5x37GZqoI5QuYVbyAlLvA68iuc_817FLGw8pJOu6uZl70IdfplvhjdWYfPGdbE0NU7ab4UarOUIev7NnhxNRheYOkXQENpTOehpAQoAbiqPrAFvPjKXeB6s5GceVrmg_kmUJ3V/s400/guitar-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729927109920378466" border="0" /></a><br />Here's the dirty part. I've learned to spend more time on grouting so that I don't have such a mess to clean up when it's dry. I hate chiseling my pretty stones out of the concrete. This grout job took about 5 hours, but it was worth it because there was almost no cleanup the next day.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHbIu7sKSWEHQkNv1KcjPR_3GvW8e5PZfDPj_xiDg9bP31HoWsdRWHLxI1HWyghrJfSJdmVUfHXWb4r3H81M_a6ujDl1cH7HoZrbHmtL9s2yl9WNESj_ucFZUeAHNDFzj41Z9PZwh-fHeQ/s1600/guitar-4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 377px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHbIu7sKSWEHQkNv1KcjPR_3GvW8e5PZfDPj_xiDg9bP31HoWsdRWHLxI1HWyghrJfSJdmVUfHXWb4r3H81M_a6ujDl1cH7HoZrbHmtL9s2yl9WNESj_ucFZUeAHNDFzj41Z9PZwh-fHeQ/s400/guitar-4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729927663331866658" border="0" /></a><br />I like the way it turned out, but of course on any art project you can always think of how you might do it differently next time. Jim and I cut the tiles from sheets of stained glass and an old mirror.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2DosDk-6SqjvahqZI6wK35Pu-YIVMLAfOXQsYJDclMJ-j277C5ImpXlf8rK26CRd01612SJfLOCug05fnxiS8qeOHzQEU8bUyzwBtMSQtAuNSfJoo4tl9QDWfKeMP6_tTdVBG4SFNb3y/s1600/guitar-5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2DosDk-6SqjvahqZI6wK35Pu-YIVMLAfOXQsYJDclMJ-j277C5ImpXlf8rK26CRd01612SJfLOCug05fnxiS8qeOHzQEU8bUyzwBtMSQtAuNSfJoo4tl9QDWfKeMP6_tTdVBG4SFNb3y/s400/guitar-5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729928747744589938" border="0" /></a><br />Marley is usually so good while I paint, mosaic, or whatever, and he lies on my worktable, but in the making of this piece, he decided to eat glass tiles, so he lost his exulted position, poor li'l guy. I can't have him eating glass, though.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNtzegDBWnHVSOqyBkOw5Sra5doREKz0-_bPRx86C6KlJAOYL09hHzS5zFzqePFPj7A1SiI0MXUDS-Md0hYkioracAtKmyBKfMIJLs0fiSLyhp7Y0_j5M2prKs7mofQrW_2HqQHHk7oYm_/s1600/guitar-6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNtzegDBWnHVSOqyBkOw5Sra5doREKz0-_bPRx86C6KlJAOYL09hHzS5zFzqePFPj7A1SiI0MXUDS-Md0hYkioracAtKmyBKfMIJLs0fiSLyhp7Y0_j5M2prKs7mofQrW_2HqQHHk7oYm_/s400/guitar-6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729931413029512690" border="0" /></a><br />Jim made hangers for both pieces. We're a great team; I come up with the ideas, and he can make anything. Sorry ladies, he's taken. They're hung farther apart than I'd like, but they are so heavy that the hangers had to be screwed into studs.<br />Thanks for stopping by. I've been doing lots of other stuff, like writing a novel and planting a straw bale garden. More on those later.<br />Cat, Marley & JimAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-47926021182604923802012-03-17T10:30:00.007-07:002012-03-17T11:39:45.132-07:00Make a Mirror from an Old Window<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP1CJDwGWJ-iKU89rbthcLz-02djxlWF__ZjskPb7WIYrBE8AiPB7SvVWRYnmtVU3vRWw4b8hymqS9f8lXxtZuTbFB99fePnI94KaMQ53viLWemS6hm4WuXfInFNo36SZHTBnScNYNPQyV/s1600/Mirror-1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP1CJDwGWJ-iKU89rbthcLz-02djxlWF__ZjskPb7WIYrBE8AiPB7SvVWRYnmtVU3vRWw4b8hymqS9f8lXxtZuTbFB99fePnI94KaMQ53viLWemS6hm4WuXfInFNo36SZHTBnScNYNPQyV/s400/Mirror-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720924077044535746" border="0" /></a><br />Sometimes I buy stuff that I don't have an inspiration for at the moment, but I stick them back, and eventually it comes. When I saw that <span style="font-style: italic;">Krylon </span>had a mirror spray, I knew what I wanted to do with it. A couple of years ago, I'd bought this old window at a garage sale for $2 and was hoping I still had it, so I did a little happy dance with I found it behind some boards in the garage! The only hard part of this project was lifting and carrying the window because it weighs a ton.<br /><br />One side was shabbier than the other, so I decided to use that as the front. You spray the paint on the <span style="font-style: italic;">back </span>side of the glass. I took it outside and washed the whole thing down with the hose, then let it dry for an hour or so. This is my kind of project because I didn't want a perfect paint job; I was trying for an aged, peeling effect. I didn't even tape it off because the over-spray on the back won't show when it's hung on the wall or leaned against it.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-PGgogDk5RyrVvlXGLGXrCwqA7K2_1cKx5yOsf0EHP1Mm2RgDSoEx6XphRgDYBuMVT9cF-yocP298DCGLLs_1PbZt-mQSIYPLvAdq084z04JJpNACNzF2oAKgi4WhnyytGaAiy9tuKXVM/s1600/Mirror-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-PGgogDk5RyrVvlXGLGXrCwqA7K2_1cKx5yOsf0EHP1Mm2RgDSoEx6XphRgDYBuMVT9cF-yocP298DCGLLs_1PbZt-mQSIYPLvAdq084z04JJpNACNzF2oAKgi4WhnyytGaAiy9tuKXVM/s400/Mirror-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720925335859266706" border="0" /></a><br />I sprayed on one, fairly even coat. Note: The paint will take on a mat finish on the painted side, but the front is shiny. Next, in order to create the imperfections, I put water in a bowl, dipped my fingertips in it, and splattered it unevenly on the painted glass. You could use a spray bottle, but I really think that splattering it will give a less uniform water pattern. Also, leave some dry places, where the "aging" isn't so advanced. I sprayed on another coat of paint and let it set for a few minutes to dry, then tipped the window up in order to get runs. I loved the way that looked! This leaves little pouches of water under the paint, so I took a paper towel and carefully dabbed all the pouches to absorb the water. I gave this 30 minutes to dry, then sprayed on the final coat. There was exactly enough paint in the can for this project. If you're doing a larger area, buy accordingly. I paid $12 for the can, but you might find it cheaper.<br /><br />Another 30 minutes, and I decided to place it on the mantle. The wreath was already there, and I may raise it because it covers up quite a bit of my mirror. The mirror effect is somewhat transparent, and I considered covering the back with dark mat board but decided it wasn't necessary once it's against the wall.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6Yb8Ubb_kvTktcNJxgYtItquMRHINyoS4_ljlSXHlRaHStaW2_s3QWyG8wHfEaHDpWjNMd4po7jlit4TnzZbAz6XxP0DJm_dLK7FO5qScEM_Zbx6lXMBZsjVOuJa_M0CETqTPVdxqq2X/s1600/Mirror-3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6Yb8Ubb_kvTktcNJxgYtItquMRHINyoS4_ljlSXHlRaHStaW2_s3QWyG8wHfEaHDpWjNMd4po7jlit4TnzZbAz6XxP0DJm_dLK7FO5qScEM_Zbx6lXMBZsjVOuJa_M0CETqTPVdxqq2X/s400/Mirror-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5720928360026381314" border="0" /></a>I'm super happy with my "antique mirror". It looks like it belongs on my mantle. Thanks for stopping by!<br />CatAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-69585341034815999572012-03-05T07:13:00.007-08:002012-03-06T04:36:17.104-08:00Essential Oils on the Tissue Roll<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnJYFpy5kVEd0M6JEdYGHYbmO4hzzUfjGuW2XD_ehSwjsNAIxzAmtC5AEi6cXwcDcb7lobI_wEmHbCUHBGwiPh0eIVo3kwd9rbGGSmIXR4pjvDQMcQL2qoX9LIGvmEAdyMwcfM3Gmqbj-J/s1600/scented-tissue.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnJYFpy5kVEd0M6JEdYGHYbmO4hzzUfjGuW2XD_ehSwjsNAIxzAmtC5AEi6cXwcDcb7lobI_wEmHbCUHBGwiPh0eIVo3kwd9rbGGSmIXR4pjvDQMcQL2qoX9LIGvmEAdyMwcfM3Gmqbj-J/s400/scented-tissue.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716431512703695378" border="0" /></a><br />I love pretty aromas, but I can't handle the strong, commercial scents, like <span style="font-style: italic;">Febreze.</span> They make it hard to breathe, and if I hang around long enough, I'll get a migraine. I picked up this scenting tip over at <span style="font-style: italic;">Pinterest</span>, but I've taken it a step further. One of the photos I <span style="font-style:italic;">pinned</span> described how to shake a few drops of essential oil into the cardboard core of a toilet paper roll to scent the whole room. (I have more essential oils than a normal person should, but normal is waaaay overrated.)<br /><br />So, I tried it, and within 24 hours, each bathroom smelled like the particular oil I chose for it. One got <span style="font-style: italic;">Patchouli,</span> another <span style="font-style: italic;">Texas Cedarwood</span>, and the third <span style="font-style: italic;">Peppermint--</span><span>yeah, that may be an odd choice for a bathroom, but it does smell <span style="font-style: italic;">fresh!</span></span> The scents are light but noticeable when you walk into the room, and after a couple of days, even the paper has a faint scent of the oil. Each time you spin the roll, it releases even more scent--<span style="font-style: italic;">Glade</span> is going to make a million with this idea as soon as they hear about it, but theirs will smell like a perfume factory exploded in the bathroom.<br /><br />Less is more with essential oils, so don't drench the roll. You don't want oily, overpowering tissue. Shaking drops from one of those bottles is an inexact science, but I try for a couple of drops in each core.<br /><br />Then I realized that Jim often changes the rolls in the hall bath he uses most, and I don't expect him to take the time to drip oil each time. Also, I figured I'd skip it if I were in a hurry. So, I decided to scent all the rolls stored in each bathroom cabinet. It only takes a minute, they're ready to go, and the extra rolls are already getting saturated. I doubt visitors will rave about how great my bathroom smells, but I bet they'll notice it. I was thinking that I could change the scents with the seasons. How about <span style="font-style: italic;">Frankincense</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Myrrh</span> for Christmas? It takes so little to make me happy.<br />Thanks for stopping by,<br />CatAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-19523433676922900472012-03-01T04:13:00.006-08:002012-03-01T05:50:14.034-08:00Trashy StoriesOf course the trash we set out at the curb reveals a lot about us. It's everything we've used up, discarded, and don't want in our lives any longer. As I was walking through my neighborhood yesterday morning, though, I got to thinking that you can also invent stories about people's trash.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUrbG1F8YFpVqeZUcZ6XU3ANmD9OVfLUYcyOe9c07pEil3nzawmDcAp4-tLLlZt_GqUe9AVbCF2MzZs9eo-8lHbhfXGhf08uo8H3uJta9EqWBINb4RMEnpAHoZL1HHcvI9bLr7zS-8OSGc/s1600/Trash-6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUrbG1F8YFpVqeZUcZ6XU3ANmD9OVfLUYcyOe9c07pEil3nzawmDcAp4-tLLlZt_GqUe9AVbCF2MzZs9eo-8lHbhfXGhf08uo8H3uJta9EqWBINb4RMEnpAHoZL1HHcvI9bLr7zS-8OSGc/s400/Trash-6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714902313642778274" border="0" /></a><br />Take this one, for example. It contained five pizza boxes, but I didn't focus in on them. Instead, I kept thinking about the silver sun screen and that pink silk rose......<br /><br />After Max just vanished from Trisha's life, then sent a post card from the Florida Keys that said, "Having the time of my life, glad you're not here", life with their four boys had been hard. Really hard.<br /><br />Trish stopped taking care of herself, let her hair hang in her face and gained ten pounds, but she continued to be a top notch mom to her children. Each day was a grind, get up at 4 AM, make breakfast and lunches for everyone, drop the kids off at three different schools, and make it to work at McDonald's. She had come to hate people, wished they'd stop eating the greasy, chemical filled garbage she served with a pasted-on smile.<br /><br />Then one day, life got considerably brighter. She was working the window, as usual, when a black, shiny Mazda-RX8 pulled up. The driver was alone. He had a look about him, sort of like an apologetic puppy dog who's not used to being loved. But he was cute, like Bobby DeNiro cute in his younger days. He hadn't looked through her like everyone else did who rushed through to grab a sack lunch. When she opened the window, he sat studying her face. And then he smiled that playful, boyish smile she would come to know. He said, "What gourmet delicacy would you recommend today, beautiful lady?"<br />"I would recommend that your drive forward, turn right onto the street, and go on down to Vino's." He laughed and said, "I'm in a tearing hurry. Just give me a burger and a Coke." When she handed him his order, he said, "But I'm new in town, and Vino's sounds pretty good. How about you and I go there tonight?"<br />"Oh, I can't, I've got four boys, and I don't get out much."<br />"Four boys, huh? I have three girls. They're worth all the trouble, huh?"<br />"Yes. They are."<br /><br />And for three weeks, he had shown up at her window everyday for a Coke and a burger. They would talk while he waited, and she learned that his name actually was Robert, but he didn't like being called Bobby. He was divorced and had been transferred to the area to manage Dillard's. Trish took to looking longer in the mirror in the mornings, highlighted her hair and held it back with clips. She stopped eating the food where she worked.<br /><br />Then one day he asked again, "Do you think you might find time to go to Vino's for with me this weekend? I was thinking we might get a sitter and leave our kids at your house or mine, along with a bunch of pizza." She had hoped he'd ask again, but she hesitated so as not to seem too eager. "Yeah, I think I know people, and you seem like a nice guy."<br />"I am a nice guy, when someone gives me half a chance."<br /><br />They'd left the seven kids at Trisha's house the following Saturday, the smell of pizza filling the house, with her cousin as babysitter. She had decided lunch at Vino's was better, and then she could be back with her kids by dark. Robert opened doors for her, told her how pretty she was, and the day had started off wonderfully. After lunch, they'd gone for a drive in the country, and he opened the glove box and handed her a pink silk rose with a frilly pink ribbon around the stem and a note attached. Trish had mentioned once that pink was her favorite color. She smiled as they whisked down the tree-lined lane and opened the note. It said, "Trisha, this rose is a token of my love for you. I want you to marry me and be a mother to my children, and I'll be a father to yours. I will be a devoted husband, forever, and you will never have to work at that window again."<br /><br />She looked up at him, puzzled. "Robert, this is very sweet. I mean, is it a joke?"<br />"Why would it be a joke?" he replied, "I thought you felt the same way about me."<br />"No, well, I mean, I really like you, and I was hoping we could spend some time together and maybe, someday...."<br />"Maybe someday? What's wrong with today? I took you to lunch, treated you like a queen, opened my heart to you, and you ask if it's a joke?" He was driving much too fast, and she was getting more scared by the minute.<br /><br />"Robert, stop the car! You're behaving like a crazy man!"<br />"Crazy? Me? You sound just like my ex!" He did pull over, into a path that led to a pasture. Trish fumbled with the door handle and then jumped out but stood staring at him, wondering how this day had gone so wrong. He opened his door but not before he carefully arranged a folding sun screen in his window, taking care to position it just right. Then he sprang from the car, came around to her and put his arms on her shoulders. She thought he was going to apologize, but he shook her violently and said in a steely voice, "Now, let's forget all this coy behavior. You know it's right between us. You felt it the same as I did that first day. I've already got your ring, and I was going to give it to when we went to my house just up the road, while we made love."<br />"Robert, you've got this all wrong! People don't just go out once and then get married!"<br />He looked crushed. "That's what the others said. That's why they're dead."<br /><br />Panic flooded over her. Out of the corner of her eye she was watching the highway, praying for an oncoming car, but there was none. She jerked out of his grasp and began running toward the barbed wire fence. As she fought to climb it, the barbs tore her clothes and skin, but she made it over just as he caught up and grabbed the sleeve of her blouse. She pulled frantically, then jerked the front open, sending buttons flying, and left him standing on the other side of the fence, holding the lavender and lace blouse she'd bought just for this day. She took off running across the wide field, and he stood there, looking after her. He called, "I'm not running after you, Trisha. You'll have to go home sometime, and I'll be there with our kids, waiting for you............."<br /><br />So, that's a five minute start on a story that could get kind of interesting :)<br />Thanks for stopping by!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-58427577076984056312012-02-21T05:08:00.002-08:002012-03-02T04:27:37.812-08:00Chapter Fifty-Something: Look out! Cat's Got a Gun.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqmcvc50qvK-F-Wa75K4sn8QBRAYpVC2CstbeLIAqt6gZrEGDrnc2WqIIHFPFxJibWDQY3FqGtCKwdxZaYz8MPIt5d9kV-RxgzonszPZbSwafkdl9n9R7emuwZ9Py_S8k6v73wFBts3La/s1600/Qualified.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 325px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqmcvc50qvK-F-Wa75K4sn8QBRAYpVC2CstbeLIAqt6gZrEGDrnc2WqIIHFPFxJibWDQY3FqGtCKwdxZaYz8MPIt5d9kV-RxgzonszPZbSwafkdl9n9R7emuwZ9Py_S8k6v73wFBts3La/s400/Qualified.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711575407971770402" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I've never liked guns. Jim has rifles and shotguns for hunting, which he uses a <span style="font-style: italic;">lot</span>, but I don't touch them. A girl could get hurt that way. So, needless to say, I've never fired a gun.<br /><br />It seems to me, though, that the world is getting crazier by the second, and as February approached (my birthday month), I began thinking about what I'd really like to have, and I was ready when Jim asked. I wanted a <span style="font-style:italic;">handgun</span> and a <span style="font-style:italic;">Concealed Carry Weapon permit</span>. Muggers, rapists, and terrorists are constantly in the news, and the Survivalists are scaring me as well. Maybe being a little scared is a good thing, but I realized that if mayhem broke out, I wanted to feel as if I'd have at least a chance of fighting back.<br /><br />Well, my darling Jim was flummoxed. At first he simply said, "No, you'll get killed with it." It made me think of nine-year-old Ralphie Parker asking for a <span style="font-style: italic;">Red Rider BB gun</span>. At least he didn't say, "You'll shoot your eye out."<br /><br />But sometimes I have to remind him that I'm not his child and that I'm several years past 18. We didn't mention it again for a while, and when he brought it up again, he'd already made arrangements for us to take the CCW class <span style="font-style: italic;">together</span>, and we began visiting gun stores to learn about guns that are small enough, light enough, but powerful enough for someone of my stature to carry and hope she never gets the chance to use it, except on the firing range.<br /><br />He had told the gun store/firing range owner, where the classes are held, that he was afraid that I couldn't get 16 out of 20 shots on a sheet of typing paper at 21 feet, so they arranged for me to go a week early for private instruction and practice. I enjoyed the whole thing, and I surprised myself and the instructor by not flinching when I fired, and all my shots hit the paper! On the way home, Jim worried that he might not be able to do as well as I did, and we planned to go back for him to practice, but then he had a medical issue that took all our attention and energy, so we never got around to it.<br /><br />The class was fairly boring, as you'd expect, 4 hours of reading and discussing rules that anyone could just as easily read from a leaflet in 15 minutes, but the state has responsibilities, and if I go shooting someone's head off, they can say, "Hey, we did our part!" The class and applications for both of us cost $500. I think it's like $35 in Mississippi, but then we don't live in Mississippi.<br /><br />I posted my target sheet above, 20/20, not too shabby for the second time I've ever held a handgun, using a gun that's not mine, and with people standing behind me waiting their turns. We both passed, but the instructor did point out that Jim didn't have any direct hits (black square) on his :) My shots tend to be low, and he said that's because I haven't learned to time my breathing, which will come with <span style="font-style: italic;">practice</span>.<br /><br />I haven't settled on which gun I want, but I'll post back here when I get it and talk about why I chose it, so it might help other ladies decide.<br /><br />Marley's hasn't been a part of all this. He shivers against me in terror if he hears a gunshot on TV, or if it thunders. But I feel as if I might be better able to help protect all three of us.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />Edit, 3/2/12: I bought my gun, a Smith and Wesson .38 Special Air Weight. I went into this thinking I wanted a semi-automatic, but the more I handled them in the stores and shooting range, I realized that, at least for now, I want the simplicity of a revolver. I guess my hands have average strength for a woman, and just loading the bullets into the magazine, I cut my thumb. I was straining so hard to push off the safety, etc., just a lot of fiddly things to think about and do with a semi-automatic. With the revolver, you load and shoot.<br /><br />Also, semi-automatics can jam, which mine did on the firing range. The instructor said he was glad it did because it gave him a chance to explain what happened. My wrist, for some reason, is more limp shooting a semi-automatic, and any time I let the gun tilt back or down, it would jam. Clearing it is another process. For someone like me, who will practice a few times a year, and who prays I'll never get the chance to use my gun in a defense situation, a revolver is just best. It's beautiful, has some recoil but not enough to make me afraid of it. I think I would have been afraid of a semi-automatic, and that's not a good thing.<br /><br />Jim wants to put Crimson Trace hand grips on my gun. They're very cool looking, but the one I practiced with, I didn't care for much. It would take some practice to squeeze the button on the inside of the grip while concentrating on aiming and squeezing the trigger. Yeah, I'm pretty simple minded when it comes to guns, but that's okay, too. He can put the grips on if he wants, but I won't guarantee I'll use the laser light much.<br />End of Edit:</span><br />Thanks for stopping by.<br />Love, Cat & MarleyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-74670991919475835092011-12-14T08:55:00.000-08:002011-12-14T08:56:50.619-08:00Getting Through the Holidays<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Christmas intensifies our emotions. Good times are brighter. Sadness is heavier. This is Marley's second Christmas with us, and he grows dearer everyday. No home should be without a dog. He's so goofy and happy and spoiled and always glad to be hugged and played with. In case you can't make out the dark photo above, it's Marley sniffing at the Christmas tree. He's such a polite little gentleman, never tears anything up. If he gets interested in sniffing a book or something I've left lying around, I'll say, "Oh, no. That's Mommy's." And he looks so guilty, as if he'd done something terrible.<br />
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I woke up sad this morning, though, due to a mixture of our Christmas plans getting changed <i>for us</i>, family members who are seriously ill, and I've been going through an especially bad place with migraines, just a lot of <i>stuff</i>. You know what I mean. I'm struggling to find the sunshine that's been hiding behind the clouds for a couple of days now. But I'm a hopeful gal, if nothing else. I always expect things to get better, and they invariably do. There's a book I'd like to recommend. It's called <i>The Untethered Soul</i> by Michael Singer. It is life changing as it helps us look at life's challenges differently. I bought it on Kindle, then bought 2 hard copies, one for me and one for someone very special to me.<br />
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I'm writing, a lot. And I've joined a little group of ceramic artists. I look forward to getting together with them on Tuesday mornings. Jim has been gone stalking Bambi for a week in Texas. He's coming home today. I didn't even ask if he got a deer. I don't care. My cards are sent out, the house is decorated, and shopping is mostly done. Since I last posted, I've gone Gluten Free, which isn't as hard as I'd expected. I'll share more about this later, but honestly, food tastes better, and I'm seeing some encouraging results.<br />
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I have plans to be a lot more present on my blog next year, along with selling some merchandise with my art on it (on another site).<br />
I wish you Sunshine and Abundant Blessings this Christmas.<br />
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Hugz, and thanks for stopping by,<br />
Cat & Marley<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-8281891923750096002011-10-19T06:16:00.000-07:002011-10-19T06:33:25.193-07:00Growing Old Ain't For Sissies<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAc1snknBaMowX9LaPL-eTz_DkYrhd8KXUJ3GtYn0S0BrQRB31Soefy4KuTnCVERkKPhT0smAeuhG3F8FxLreEMXNZA2k23RFlzMnoC3UPKKH3pZ4a1gAVVy5A5nscOisbrVGqE0RrhuUh/s1600/five-min.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAc1snknBaMowX9LaPL-eTz_DkYrhd8KXUJ3GtYn0S0BrQRB31Soefy4KuTnCVERkKPhT0smAeuhG3F8FxLreEMXNZA2k23RFlzMnoC3UPKKH3pZ4a1gAVVy5A5nscOisbrVGqE0RrhuUh/s400/five-min.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665193318632720946" border="0" /></a><br />I feel young, mentally and spiritually. My body doesn't always agree, but mostly I make it just fine by taking care of myself. I eat so healthy my M.D. told me to splurge occasionally, and I have an on again, off again relationship with exercise and walking. But I always come back to them.<br /><br />I was active in my youth and adolescence, cheerleader, walked to school (really), roller skating, bike riding, etc., and I guess that's part of why it's not too hard to get back on the wagon after my lapses, and I figure intermittent activity is better than no activity at all.<br /><br />I mentioned my doctor, well actually, he's my former doctor. I rarely went to see him, anyway, skipped all of last year, but when I would go, for the flu that wouldn't go away, for my ribs when I fell and almost broke them while cleaning out the hot tub, stuff like that, I could tell that he was pretty much marking me off as another "old lady". I'm not even close to throwing in the towel, but whatever I asked him about he'd end by saying, "You know you're not that young anymore."<br /><br />I'm very health conscious, research meds before I even think of taking them, would rather go the herbal, natural route, and he ALWAYS wanted to put me on a ton of steroids, antibiotics, pain relievers, etc., that had scary side effects that were worse than the ailment, so we argued over that a lot.<br /><br />I truly felt that it was all a cop-out. Yes, I'm a senior citizen, but I'm not dead, and I'm just as important as his under 50 patients. So, we parted ways. I didn't make a show of it, and he doesn't know (or care). One of the challenges of aging (in addition to taking care of ourselves) is finding care givers who will treat us as worthy of their time and talents. There'll be another time when I need a medical physician, but I hope he's a better doctor for folks my age, and I'll try to be a better patient.<br /><br />Anyway, I said all that to say that I think a big part of <span style="font-style: italic;">staying young</span> is keeping interested in life and finding creative things to do. If I can stay active, I'd like to live to be a hundred or so, just to fit in all the arts I'm interested in doing. Here's a ceramic piece I painted yesterday.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPT4td75sMXC89eYhIzs6euv4VBXIvTtI7hKe5LoTd7VSCEt0lOsF1xLoFSVgnJ8futt6wZmWNBtWqV_0VUftXlfQZbCaBSqNyAmalekJfcA4nO23BniNzXUMrehMabAhjUL21Tq-a-In7/s1600/Pumpkin.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 337px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPT4td75sMXC89eYhIzs6euv4VBXIvTtI7hKe5LoTd7VSCEt0lOsF1xLoFSVgnJ8futt6wZmWNBtWqV_0VUftXlfQZbCaBSqNyAmalekJfcA4nO23BniNzXUMrehMabAhjUL21Tq-a-In7/s400/Pumpkin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665194665190946930" border="0" /></a><br />And I've come to realize you need a pet. No matter how my hair looks or if I'm feeling on top of the world or a little down in the dumps, Marley is here with me, happy with whatever attention he gets (which happens to be a lot). I don't know if that's a <span style="font-style: italic;">little old lady attitude</span> or not and don't care. We all need to find what works best for us.<br />Thanks for stopping by,<br />Love, Cat and MarleyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-80802366929082492732011-09-09T04:27:00.000-07:002011-09-09T05:16:23.021-07:00Save Our Bookstores!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrmxzM0tjs6kLjge4c1mLJEkasNROFCOUd7Sq6eDt2smtFla-tor6l6OzREa5kCtYppV3FzhLfwkgSGmHsQ2srfB4hKFMqj4cLbdqhjMQyq4LhFHKBhtzWl0vI-Nt7Fq1_t50aYJ1iIN6u/s1600/bam.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrmxzM0tjs6kLjge4c1mLJEkasNROFCOUd7Sq6eDt2smtFla-tor6l6OzREa5kCtYppV3FzhLfwkgSGmHsQ2srfB4hKFMqj4cLbdqhjMQyq4LhFHKBhtzWl0vI-Nt7Fq1_t50aYJ1iIN6u/s400/bam.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650320707878817586" border="0" /></a><br />Books have always been my best friends. They're how I learn, they entertain me as TV never could, and they don't get mad at something I've said or didn't say or should have said or maybe thought of saying, and pick up their marbles and go home. I would be miserable in a home without books, and one of my happiest little pleasures is to spend an hour, two hours, half a day (no, seriously, I have) in <span style="font-style: italic;">Books-a-Million</span>, browsing, reading, lounging on a big, soft chair and drinking coffee, maybe even splurging and having a giant cookie, for which I'll feel adequately guilty later.<br /><br />When <span style="font-style: italic;">Borders</span> went out of business, it shook me. We didn't even have a <span style="font-style: italic;">Borders</span><span> here</span>, but it was the end of an era in some ways, and if it can happen to them, why not <span style="font-style: italic;">Books-a-Million</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">Barnes and Noble</span>?<br /><br />I have to take responsibility, though....we all do. Remember when the first <span style="font-style: italic;">Wal-Mart </span>came to your town, and everyone said it would be bad for the local economy, and you shopped there anyway because it's so convenient and has great prices? Well it was/is bad for the economy. When <span style="font-style: italic;">Wal-Mart</span> came to Batesville, within a couple of years, centuries old stores like <span style="font-style: italic;">Barnett's Department Store</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Maxfields</span> closed their doors forever because they couldn't compete. They sold quality goods that Wal-Mart never heard of, but people gravitate to whatever costs less.<br /><br />Well, that's what we see happening now with the internet and fun places to shop like <span style="font-style: italic;">Amazon.com</span>. There's not a week goes by that I don't order something online, usually several somethings. And when I got my <span style="font-style: italic;">iPhone</span> and realized I can sit in my <span style="font-style: italic;">Books-a-Million</span> store and <span>scan</span> book barcodes through <span style="font-style: italic;">Amazon.com</span> and be told immediately that I can buy that $20-$30 book for as little as 1 penny plus shipping, I went a little crazy. Heck, you can place the order right then and there. My friends (the books) take a few days to get here, but I'm saving like a gazillion dollars (I never was good at math). Woo-Hoo!!<br /><br />But then <span style="font-style: italic;">Borders</span> closed, and it got me to thinking that I'm to blame! Oh, not me alone, but I'm one of the culprits, and so I turned over a new leaf, and yesterday, I found three books in <span style="font-style: italic;">BAM</span> that I couldn't live without, and I ordered two of them, but I bought the third one in the store and vowed never to buy books, compliments of their store's hospitality, from an online business without buying at least one at their checkout. I don't mean to preach, but you know you're guilty, and I hope you'll mend your careless ways, too, so we can save our bookstores.<br /><br />Oh, and Marley? He's not much into books. When he was still a puppy, he chewed the corner of one of my friends, but we had a serious talk, and he never has even noticed them lying scattered on the floor around my chair again.<br />He's such a good dog.<br /><br />Thanks for stopping by!<br />Love, Cat & MarleyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-9009347956344546292011-07-28T16:26:00.000-07:002011-07-29T06:49:05.096-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0BP-C7E_BZvree3ofDjJIk2Ypai1I6WDeS2KzJPlhU9VO5gspYORL9jztwyIr8Ths_N16sXq9XEp6D2d-9-tWkZ1RiZs5k6ecfc7jJxx-IkTglYitednZ67OXfIYWNcTDthZGptUEXbx9/s1600/Poke-Sallet.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0BP-C7E_BZvree3ofDjJIk2Ypai1I6WDeS2KzJPlhU9VO5gspYORL9jztwyIr8Ths_N16sXq9XEp6D2d-9-tWkZ1RiZs5k6ecfc7jJxx-IkTglYitednZ67OXfIYWNcTDthZGptUEXbx9/s400/Poke-Sallet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634548915899301282" border="0" /></a><br />Poke Sallet is the South's equivalent of spinach. My husband wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole, but I like the boiled tender leaves for 1 or 2 meals in the spring. After 17 years, he's still certain I'm going to poison myself with things I gather wild. Poke Sallet is sort of like my spring tonic. I have a few stalks that I allow to grow at the edge of my yard. It beats hunting it down in the woods when spring arrives. This one got caught in the sprinkler, and I thought it looked sort of cool. <br /><br />I know a few wild plants that are edible, but my maternal grandmother know many. I only had her in my life for 5 years, but I think of her everyday.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-13787638418610545652011-07-16T08:42:00.000-07:002011-07-16T09:52:39.963-07:00Playing Catch-up<div>The hurrier I go, the behinder I get. I've got a new project that's taking most of my attention lately. It's not pottery. I'll tell you about it eventually, but in the meantime, I've been attempting a Picture a Day album on Facebook, and hey, I'm almost at 2 months, which is a record for me. So I thought I'd borrow some of those pics and get caught up here.</div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfAQx_dyfVhGjigjyWA1MWRz9LCGuXNUs3IvlsId9ZS2_0sT3obqDlqCRkUC1tXvYmJOO3aKRB2Gf7UxFYzMIRi9vp_LFbIACHGuuVGU0aA5gp155fkGnTEgd963bFvmU9iXzZOvvu7HK/s1600/Growing-Babies.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629977541813593074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfAQx_dyfVhGjigjyWA1MWRz9LCGuXNUs3IvlsId9ZS2_0sT3obqDlqCRkUC1tXvYmJOO3aKRB2Gf7UxFYzMIRi9vp_LFbIACHGuuVGU0aA5gp155fkGnTEgd963bFvmU9iXzZOvvu7HK/s400/Growing-Babies.jpg" /></a><br />In May, we had our usual round of baby birds hatching everywhere. Jim fights the sparrows so the bluebirds, mockingbirds and thrushes will have a chance. We were happily watching these mockingbird babies, but one morning they had vanished. Darn cats!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3aLMtmPg_iQGKzJ0y5pO_2xDMHd48sRqdBeNsVPEI-iRgeXTtVhXQzaz3kbJ_mN28abLEmOtPpmibpbCYSh8tp8gqq-yri6UCIpULKIZ9CljEF3cFumoCV0rJGyQaKvt3-FtaIXGWYMjd/s1600/Bowl-Beginnings.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629977560821814658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3aLMtmPg_iQGKzJ0y5pO_2xDMHd48sRqdBeNsVPEI-iRgeXTtVhXQzaz3kbJ_mN28abLEmOtPpmibpbCYSh8tp8gqq-yri6UCIpULKIZ9CljEF3cFumoCV0rJGyQaKvt3-FtaIXGWYMjd/s400/Bowl-Beginnings.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG3URuSq2nQqQ9jFtWNMUMrwVshCIttsb2kqOnjSIEEoM1ffGIH4DBRBG2lsuRAB_6aud_Qkd6zjOWU3rK4_0o5hjXM7X3ThbJRDklJw77oS9wTct1RQtQlnUU18_qY8DlJwcePatdk9Eh/s1600/bowl-inside.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 398px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629977551300914434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG3URuSq2nQqQ9jFtWNMUMrwVshCIttsb2kqOnjSIEEoM1ffGIH4DBRBG2lsuRAB_6aud_Qkd6zjOWU3rK4_0o5hjXM7X3ThbJRDklJw77oS9wTct1RQtQlnUU18_qY8DlJwcePatdk9Eh/s400/bowl-inside.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTBoT4FjylXyasQCtIk73yBYxakBvVdtvpwYj4veHxJUhm0Ek_YwjDz8qs4HPYBcN1834EjGnNZY_4KIm6OWIXlhSg101xC99uw_euHDeJFaP4xp8N0ChYDaCg5AXKzQYci_wGf435yL-w/s1600/Back-in-Pottery-Class.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629977545074052866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTBoT4FjylXyasQCtIk73yBYxakBvVdtvpwYj4veHxJUhm0Ek_YwjDz8qs4HPYBcN1834EjGnNZY_4KIm6OWIXlhSg101xC99uw_euHDeJFaP4xp8N0ChYDaCg5AXKzQYci_wGf435yL-w/s400/Back-in-Pottery-Class.jpg" /></a><br />I signed up for summer pottery classes, was ecstatic because I finally got to play on the throwing wheel, had connected with a former pottery teacher who was going to make me a heckuva deal on her kiln, wheel, etc., and then I got such awful tendonitis (tennis elbow) in my left arm, that I've gone back to handbuilding and don't think I want to buy the equipment. This phase has lasted longer than some.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHF55K96sJgGcoyqp-CAHt2gB48Un6iv1eMwl0SKjwWvvwoOb7NpYEJUhZrm4g-ZeNLTvPZrpGSq3jLaIRgeHl6MfK0kbAgj2Nf0G3OpVHcp8HqUdy7_ustG66AbRgGXKgmuw3yg26NLGS/s1600/apps2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629979792256966210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHF55K96sJgGcoyqp-CAHt2gB48Un6iv1eMwl0SKjwWvvwoOb7NpYEJUhZrm4g-ZeNLTvPZrpGSq3jLaIRgeHl6MfK0kbAgj2Nf0G3OpVHcp8HqUdy7_ustG66AbRgGXKgmuw3yg26NLGS/s400/apps2.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCTl1DQR5IZkx7yBAmx5vCaqhkcBZ4dn_jijxyCy3KOWDKmhSrAj0dGpkkP5cr0DdmdBbc4pHQ3cBN-wtp95bz5HXj6IJeyyA-QBIyDCC8H9Qbkn92f6PBV4B1-OdsLY8Uj4obHFxNHVkY/s1600/Books.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 304px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629979786513023186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCTl1DQR5IZkx7yBAmx5vCaqhkcBZ4dn_jijxyCy3KOWDKmhSrAj0dGpkkP5cr0DdmdBbc4pHQ3cBN-wtp95bz5HXj6IJeyyA-QBIyDCC8H9Qbkn92f6PBV4B1-OdsLY8Uj4obHFxNHVkY/s400/Books.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnxUqRcpZkbZNl6QsKEogExAUL4FN-FK-Q8phqAyyYjtQ87LEB2v_c5DHJoEBUiqxrSnfzmJtV2Wf1nDASAZ8KnfJRGZOIp0v2AYO7-IMjLueJvLlE93KefzaGGhoMod_MVikFy3M5WJbe/s1600/Arkansas-Arts-Center.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 303px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629979782522150818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnxUqRcpZkbZNl6QsKEogExAUL4FN-FK-Q8phqAyyYjtQ87LEB2v_c5DHJoEBUiqxrSnfzmJtV2Wf1nDASAZ8KnfJRGZOIp0v2AYO7-IMjLueJvLlE93KefzaGGhoMod_MVikFy3M5WJbe/s400/Arkansas-Arts-Center.jpg" /></a><br />I'm having way too much fun with my iPhone, yes, me Cat Bounds, who used to detest cell phones. But this is an elegant little computer I take everywhere, and I use the camera and photo apps (examples above) more than I do my serious cameras. Literally, whatever I can think of, there's an app for that.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC91a0IBdD3u1Hp3WN7lL_3Ei4caCVmMKnk02l0CzrWnY40weW2-snWOtDoCpodMON_RBtEmiNNiRoblPPIG-sG_W204JUnPbAY1W-ytsbj05gYjvN7XP9N9_P3QtcLuLXQ7EifJri3sBo/s1600/Ian-Posterized.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629981348185811554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC91a0IBdD3u1Hp3WN7lL_3Ei4caCVmMKnk02l0CzrWnY40weW2-snWOtDoCpodMON_RBtEmiNNiRoblPPIG-sG_W204JUnPbAY1W-ytsbj05gYjvN7XP9N9_P3QtcLuLXQ7EifJri3sBo/s400/Ian-Posterized.jpg" /></a><br />My sister had multiple strokes; this is a photo of Ian in her hospital room. She lost all use of her right leg and arm, but she is making amazing progress since she went home and even drove to church last Sunday.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGTOixGZeKh1ggkF6TyUhnXuLFx31P-YgeFXwJYD0ohbzVnVmdqjNgZYCHN1i7NAnajMd3ZPk_sm5S3H7vdn2CX989fNgpLta343_5NaKVeIhya7hco3rLUoaVp-tdyT_DKBLSypz3jP3/s1600/Simple-Pleasures.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629983206901311154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGTOixGZeKh1ggkF6TyUhnXuLFx31P-YgeFXwJYD0ohbzVnVmdqjNgZYCHN1i7NAnajMd3ZPk_sm5S3H7vdn2CX989fNgpLta343_5NaKVeIhya7hco3rLUoaVp-tdyT_DKBLSypz3jP3/s400/Simple-Pleasures.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Y3dIjYvIVevEEVYCenxIyU4_7_zNqjsfimD3Fuqx09EWDkgkicZ7XvTwqtDdlpza-dxfbV_ErwmENTxIf6ryA2p2zUUGpIG81IQ_nfwSBd8xcGGtVXmQaimFzjK7fZTz4AemOhCo9Xsy/s1600/Lavender.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629982575008786258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Y3dIjYvIVevEEVYCenxIyU4_7_zNqjsfimD3Fuqx09EWDkgkicZ7XvTwqtDdlpza-dxfbV_ErwmENTxIf6ryA2p2zUUGpIG81IQ_nfwSBd8xcGGtVXmQaimFzjK7fZTz4AemOhCo9Xsy/s400/Lavender.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Xq0QY3_qsX3-2QT9oSaSvaWkbjHF1A90WQCkRM1b9v2ritrRma9ClXuC6aFyWVrsScv3XXlNYntCys_NnxysJYWAxi0xVsxXoOUlro8XyPd3IbPMpr5oMNNAjHDiBi6zdK50Bh8Cd56S/s1600/Borage.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 275px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629982567761300386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Xq0QY3_qsX3-2QT9oSaSvaWkbjHF1A90WQCkRM1b9v2ritrRma9ClXuC6aFyWVrsScv3XXlNYntCys_NnxysJYWAxi0xVsxXoOUlro8XyPd3IbPMpr5oMNNAjHDiBi6zdK50Bh8Cd56S/s400/Borage.jpg" /></a><br />My herbs have done pretty well, despite the searing heat and drought that began in June. I've dried a few, but mostly I like having them growing fresh so I can pinch off some stems to toss in whatever I'm cooking.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiykRn4AIAIyP4X6wrCJvtcXCaApltYn3Ai1AdipBagSiJznHfK7D67DK9rJFqhAMdOSZMcOZ_94MYx8JhxICNfnYe8ZEx21DWrm1XcAtIquSzkNQsWzbxWMCpMrp7xp845MEfXiypIE_Zt/s1600/Southern-Fried-Bliss.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 306px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629983894340007682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiykRn4AIAIyP4X6wrCJvtcXCaApltYn3Ai1AdipBagSiJznHfK7D67DK9rJFqhAMdOSZMcOZ_94MYx8JhxICNfnYe8ZEx21DWrm1XcAtIquSzkNQsWzbxWMCpMrp7xp845MEfXiypIE_Zt/s400/Southern-Fried-Bliss.jpg" /></a><br />And of course I've been cooking summer veggies. Tonight we're having another veggie meal, this time including fried green tomatoes. Can you believe I've lived in the South all my life and haven't had them before?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gojd8SetFGBc-HFqieqCjs2-gcwB1Ocaw0Ad1VjWq9d6YB3xcKK-MvsquWc6ojUJwtt0VQSeE-vwUR48y4yCOm-y4kt_sSHnshxZMfowqNPouoVMnQMYd0WAwa-enuBL1PQe7gQlAdtE/s1600/Mickey-Lynne-and-me.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 205px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629984650274387666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7gojd8SetFGBc-HFqieqCjs2-gcwB1Ocaw0Ad1VjWq9d6YB3xcKK-MvsquWc6ojUJwtt0VQSeE-vwUR48y4yCOm-y4kt_sSHnshxZMfowqNPouoVMnQMYd0WAwa-enuBL1PQe7gQlAdtE/s400/Mickey-Lynne-and-me.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCRa1_3QYbhxc4jT0j-WbJVEuHIID_ot3FEjaFbHDSXJEl7k72izD2hEacGsbASxQQRNU18o9Ec32iKEoqnMcxmc4jajuWY1Jd5uWpXXtYZ3yz2ItMnL9lupI0bXS1lB-Tz0QahwnEyYT-/s1600/Lunch-with-Lynne-2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629984650569660066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCRa1_3QYbhxc4jT0j-WbJVEuHIID_ot3FEjaFbHDSXJEl7k72izD2hEacGsbASxQQRNU18o9Ec32iKEoqnMcxmc4jajuWY1Jd5uWpXXtYZ3yz2ItMnL9lupI0bXS1lB-Tz0QahwnEyYT-/s400/Lunch-with-Lynne-2.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8D8gqqQpPrVQRtb7e8eRDIfIjIA_aZSL89Dl1VsqnofwMO-NfcSwynUh1eUGxYXxjizAoEg0p4rjKYsTwqdDa7mpZxUQuIPr-m4hBh9LBn9zhC_KTQiQeTsUb_6djOgbZrOLDAqjvq2U/s1600/Perrier.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629985893334125618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8D8gqqQpPrVQRtb7e8eRDIfIjIA_aZSL89Dl1VsqnofwMO-NfcSwynUh1eUGxYXxjizAoEg0p4rjKYsTwqdDa7mpZxUQuIPr-m4hBh9LBn9zhC_KTQiQeTsUb_6djOgbZrOLDAqjvq2U/s400/Perrier.jpg" /></a><br />The best thing about Facebook is reconnecting with family and friends I wouldn't have contacted any other way. I got to chatting with Lynne, one of my former junior high English students (I only taught for 5 years), and she and I went to lunch, and then she brought Mickey (another one of my darlings) over for supper. Can't tell you how much I enjoyed seeing them again and catching up......and I have this <em>thing</em> for Perrier. That company will know when I die by the drop in sales. Anyway, Mickey brought me a gift of Perrier, which totally touched my heart. He said he remembered the bottle always sitting on my desk in front of the class.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7JtOjfAk5YXh1yCe1h8vk58-PfDjLcTX8pYAace05kIel8GU_4Wcpr_fnqwTOkqJiRLAiDQfMkbz2e3TTSre9jIyen-LaznztdlG0jUU7ZqNrMhitC2UzhasQxLe6ck3Mc4Qtu6GZ8qrU/s1600/New-Beginning.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 298px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629986666424777298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7JtOjfAk5YXh1yCe1h8vk58-PfDjLcTX8pYAace05kIel8GU_4Wcpr_fnqwTOkqJiRLAiDQfMkbz2e3TTSre9jIyen-LaznztdlG0jUU7ZqNrMhitC2UzhasQxLe6ck3Mc4Qtu6GZ8qrU/s400/New-Beginning.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgidmgSmCuPNvI9wWG5krcT3LHHjQN9_CJzguX1M69PtBe7LV0T2aYqcGmbuXQ_KT9lh5uGVY2lIhdZ_22ZXWXkkyUr3FhpRW44QPjUCzF8giXMWuiqSqD2MVK4RJ-hlKoUUFxewYrev1I_/s1600/Happy-Ending.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629986661560265154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgidmgSmCuPNvI9wWG5krcT3LHHjQN9_CJzguX1M69PtBe7LV0T2aYqcGmbuXQ_KT9lh5uGVY2lIhdZ_22ZXWXkkyUr3FhpRW44QPjUCzF8giXMWuiqSqD2MVK4RJ-hlKoUUFxewYrev1I_/s400/Happy-Ending.jpg" /></a><br />Marley thought we'd brought him home a live chew toy and was a little dejected when we gave it away the same day.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUNf33iRtsWvFOunBqrkoGBwvX8vQPmbY4p97J-awLv-D2yTsBo_qsSYlcvzJtLbMRyBmo0Xqn4NW_3b6eUoEe-AB6MN_qVDZKL2wV4lygzzSU8VRo6E0nlxNVPf0i51wTviWS0ewl99HV/s1600/Rescue-Kitty.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629986660335754498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUNf33iRtsWvFOunBqrkoGBwvX8vQPmbY4p97J-awLv-D2yTsBo_qsSYlcvzJtLbMRyBmo0Xqn4NW_3b6eUoEe-AB6MN_qVDZKL2wV4lygzzSU8VRo6E0nlxNVPf0i51wTviWS0ewl99HV/s400/Rescue-Kitty.jpg" /></a><br />Oh, and here's our kitty adventure. Jim and I were headed into Little Rock, and at the same moment we saw a kitten on the edge of the freeway raise its head. That little image was burned into my mind, and I said, "We need to see about it!" Which began a small argument about why we shouldn't. "It's probably dying," he said, hoping that would end the matter, but I thought that's the most awful place to die, alone and scared. At least it should die with people trying to save it. So, (long story short) he unhappily found an exit, and we backtracked along the service road till we spotted the cat again, now lying flat. I navigated the knee-high grasses and standing water, a towel in hand, and scooped it up, expecting to find it bloody and broken, but amazingly it seemed to be okay. We took him home and did the best we could to make him comfortable, but I've got cat allergies and was already stopping up. We knew this couldn't be our kitty, and he wouldn't eat or drink. I posted his photo on Facebook, and my nephew, Josh, texted me to say his brother-in-law might want the cat. Eureka! Things were looking up for this pitiful little guy. Josh and Trista came that evening, and Trista immediately had him eating and clinging to her. They took him home and found he was covered in fleas, so after a good bath he perked up a lot. Yesterday they took him to her brother, and I'm just thrilled that Kyo has a new name, a new home, and someone to love him. Anyone with a heart would have stopped just like I did; it's the heartless ones who discard animals the same way they litter the highways with their trash.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8owJ16HkZOD_NiiFD9ZeUDxtR4GXlLzQSvP3BWtb9bdJ4RQ615nWHRBfyLVddtNbtSANWmcDoK278Id9WR7zzmz7VQld-zLiE8cC8xKwi73-8B54Ys7L0IhGpTledHa2h6k-2uhNVWVHy/s1600/Nothing-Gold-Can-Stay.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 331px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629990416040973394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8owJ16HkZOD_NiiFD9ZeUDxtR4GXlLzQSvP3BWtb9bdJ4RQ615nWHRBfyLVddtNbtSANWmcDoK278Id9WR7zzmz7VQld-zLiE8cC8xKwi73-8B54Ys7L0IhGpTledHa2h6k-2uhNVWVHy/s400/Nothing-Gold-Can-Stay.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0awRa2cHzHNP28gAajOD2gt2rFt0_c1xvHGx-fzrtxIQxPhkO_PqgqJr6QuKNvcQJuJQPVxBCgP2mcK0zgMtsobb3FIWJl9J4rEGYAL89Ge0F3Q4P-cjqLUjvUe5ZJ9bVmQ95wVWh8aGk/s1600/Hydrangea.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 393px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629990418875419714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0awRa2cHzHNP28gAajOD2gt2rFt0_c1xvHGx-fzrtxIQxPhkO_PqgqJr6QuKNvcQJuJQPVxBCgP2mcK0zgMtsobb3FIWJl9J4rEGYAL89Ge0F3Q4P-cjqLUjvUe5ZJ9bVmQ95wVWh8aGk/s400/Hydrangea.jpg" /></a><br />And that's mostly it for now. Marley is hibernating indoors. We can hardly get him to go out to pee. I don't know how he holds it sometimes. I credit him with opening my heart to animals....... maybe Kyo owes his life to Marley.<br />Thanks for stopping by.<br />Love,<br />Cat & Marley<br /><br /></div></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-14696728308583693122011-05-19T12:54:00.000-07:002011-05-20T04:18:15.027-07:00A Visit with the Herbal Healer of Rose BudI've mentioned my migraines to you occasionally and that one of my quests is to find a remedy that actually works. Well, my sisters, Nan and Tressa, heard about Barry Joneshill in Rose Bud and paid him a visit recently. Turns out he's something of a legend as an herbal healer, and I, who grow herbs, study herbs and have tried everything I've ever read or heard about, am the last to know in the state of Arkansas. They came away saying I should visit him. The remedy he prescribed was for Tres; we had no idea how life-threatening her condition was at the time or that the window for herbal healing had closed........but that's a whole other story.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguC7jzii5HQ35jXjBE1Wcht0K12DaDLqeMhLVf-lr8zWWpibPShe3KOHSYGWc4f099GeN-e_wXtLsOVQmm1Ou5wc_gj0R6HAyiW_2bYLfB9LXefYSWU3a8X2aMtvv8UU6ys1GPLBehSoi5/s1600/Remedies.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 175px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608567402084796018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguC7jzii5HQ35jXjBE1Wcht0K12DaDLqeMhLVf-lr8zWWpibPShe3KOHSYGWc4f099GeN-e_wXtLsOVQmm1Ou5wc_gj0R6HAyiW_2bYLfB9LXefYSWU3a8X2aMtvv8UU6ys1GPLBehSoi5/s400/Remedies.jpg" /></a><br />So yesterday, I gassed up the Kia and drove 30 miles over verdant rolling hills dotted with goats, horses and cows. My kind of scenery. I passed the Rose Bud city limits sign, population 429, Sal-ute! Shortly afterwards my GPS proudly announced that my destination was on the left. I had arrived at <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Remedies</span>. It's a pretty building with lots of glass in the front and interesting little walkways with well kept plants along the way.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZw1EW4pAW379iwANfo4xy5rVjxlIruhLTU4I9f76AKbeyTTRDvBqMj_3HpQWoIsO6A3QmLlxn-Q73maAIhG3Gdti4fdsdZqihSriVX2iYwJiFVm7RudpBQFOdCVAdwAwZDkxUGoxMINQ/s1600/Remedies2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 318px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608567408117971378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZw1EW4pAW379iwANfo4xy5rVjxlIruhLTU4I9f76AKbeyTTRDvBqMj_3HpQWoIsO6A3QmLlxn-Q73maAIhG3Gdti4fdsdZqihSriVX2iYwJiFVm7RudpBQFOdCVAdwAwZDkxUGoxMINQ/s400/Remedies2.jpg" /></a><br />Inside, there was a homey atmosphere, murals on some of the walls and even on the floor, with a large room off to the side filled with mirrors, red velvet chairs, dark shiny wood and tasseled lamps, like a Victorian parlour; price tags hung on them and a sign overhead said, "Your husband called. He said you can buy anything you want". The main room was lined with shelves filled with supplements and herbs, not the ordinary variety you can buy at Wal-Mart. There were 2 very large women, a child and a teenaged boy perched on a long sofa with the man I assumed to be Barry in front of them at a small table, writing on white cards. A few feet beyond them were 2 rows of chairs where 3 more people were waiting. Ah, the waiting room. I dutifully parked myself there so as to get in line, but the room fascinated me and every now and then I'd be drawn over to this shelf or that to read labels on herbal and homeopathic boxes, bottles and tubes. There was also a book rack. I could spend all day in this place. The coolest shelves were built on either side of a group of French doors, very Shabby Chic.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPz4rDf8dfPzI03ZO2QGdzLeqEdjB2eo7_5VREhOTlJAXmrbDFQ_1ccWqow9FLEKv4b7XXkHZeNKa5eQpAJaQ4jQNB_AFJARfaiPsLPW4aVeQ2Dr1XXiUZo3JFNdrWXFOflCcUXU_2l0Dg/s1600/Remedies3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608567409245943330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPz4rDf8dfPzI03ZO2QGdzLeqEdjB2eo7_5VREhOTlJAXmrbDFQ_1ccWqow9FLEKv4b7XXkHZeNKa5eQpAJaQ4jQNB_AFJARfaiPsLPW4aVeQ2Dr1XXiUZo3JFNdrWXFOflCcUXU_2l0Dg/s400/Remedies3.jpg" /></a><br />There's no privacy, so I all the while I was listening to the conversation with the people on the sofa. It seemed they each had an ailment, and Barry found a connection between them, prescribed some potions, and stood up, indicating that their consultation was over, but they were relishing their position at the front of the line and remained seated, bringing up more supporting ailments. I was thinking, "Go on already. Your turn is over." Finally they did, and the next group was up, a mom, her adolescent son, and probably his aunt. They'd come for the boy's upset stomach, but again, they all had ailments, and all were diagnosed in a matter of 10 minutes, never having been touched by Barry. He just asked a few questions and wrote on his white cards. I <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Googled</span> one of the supplements he prescribed for them, just curious. The photos are also courtesy of my <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">iPhone</span>.<br /><br />Barry has the reputation of <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">knowing</span> things about you, things that amaze his patients. He's a good lookin' soft spoken gentleman with silver hair and appears to be in his late 40's, but it's said he may be closer to 80. For a fact, he's highly educated and has created his own line of remedies called <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Thaumaturge, </span><span style="font-size:0;">which means "Bringer of Miracles"</span>. We're all hoping for a miracle.<br /><br />When those 3 left, it was my turn. On the drive up, I'd mulled over what to tell him. Over a span of 40 years, I've poured out my heart about the migraines to a gaggle of doctors and specialists; how severe, how often, what I have and haven't tried, arguing with them when they want to put me on meds that leave me in a drugged stupor....... it's very much like flailing a dead horse. I needn't have worried. He only asked why I was there. Lifelong migraines. Writing on his cards. Did I have thinning hair? Some, but not so much. I said that most people in my family who had these migraines had stopped by the time they were my age. "How old are you? 36?" Laughter on my part, no, turn that around......and I thought, he said it jokingly, but had he known my exact age? Hmmmm.<br /><br />Well, here's what you need to do, and he came over and sat beside me and gave me the card with a diagram of what he determined was going on in my body, along with a <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">prescription</span> for apricot juice, tonic water, nutmeg and herbal tablets from his shelves. He said to follow it for 3 weeks, four times a year, and he indicated the calendar dates to begin each round. Will it stop the migraines? I pray it does. But either way, I enjoyed my little journey to <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Remedies</span>, and I'll probably go again.<br /><br />And Marley? He'll just be happy if his mommy has more happy days to play with him.<br />Much love to y'all and thanks for stopping by.<br />Cat & MarleyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-24505025434816819592011-05-14T11:17:00.000-07:002011-05-14T13:52:09.997-07:00Playing in the Mud......and Notes to Santa<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhScBXWvNUdAqkOg3aE3U4iCVRAFyPKM4kp8VJrbZgABEZNfCtpO_PUtzjBmrgK8mQ7CgfTY_9cmOjIPYIo8mq3O0XKglUl3PSyKpnA0wjVVJyr6qhMOp4xuz5NF9THe81hauk8o8_xl0Yf/s1600/Beginning-Pottery-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhScBXWvNUdAqkOg3aE3U4iCVRAFyPKM4kp8VJrbZgABEZNfCtpO_PUtzjBmrgK8mQ7CgfTY_9cmOjIPYIo8mq3O0XKglUl3PSyKpnA0wjVVJyr6qhMOp4xuz5NF9THe81hauk8o8_xl0Yf/s400/Beginning-Pottery-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606666403979379090" border="0" /></a><br />I'm not a quitter, not by a long-shot, but I <span style="font-style: italic;">almost</span> dropped out of my pottery classes for 2 reasons. One was the 9 AM time slot on Monday mornings, dealing with Little Rock traffic, and it has rained/stormed almost every Monday since I started, and then there were 2 weeks of flooding when I could have gotten to class by way of Dallas but opted to stay home with Marley who's terrified of storms. I'm a country girl, and while I can drive in crazy traffic, it's no fun for me, and these days, if it ain't fun, why bother? <br /><br />The second reason was that all we've made in class are boring little 3 inch <span style="font-style: italic;">pinch pots</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">slab boxes</span>, and <span style="font-style: italic;">coiled pots</span>, and they're just dynamically ugly! This is the hand-building class, and they won't let us touch the <span style="font-style: italic;">throwing wheel</span> till next semester. (I wonder why they call it throwing; seems to me it should be a spinning wheel. I guess the yarn makers already glommed onto that name.......but I digress.) Anyway this week, I brought home some of my clay and made a few pieces on my own. Duh! Of course this is why they teach us the techniques on ugly little pots, so we can transfer them to pieces we might actually want to claim.<br /><br />I fell totally in love with my clay this week, even though it's an absolute hassle that everything has to dry, in stages, but not too quickly, and then be wrapped and boxed and precariously carted back to the Arts Center for firing, glazing and firing again. Before the first firing, it's so fragile you could pick up a piece and push your thumb right through it. I really wish I had my own kiln! Are you listening, Santa?<br /><br />This little log with roses on it was my first pottery creation on my own. I've made tons of roses in cake frosting and in paper sculptures, but trust me, clay is easier. It has a lot of little sticking-out petals and leaves that I'll worry about in the firing process because we don't get to do that ourselves. Seriously, Santa, I <span style="font-style: italic;">need</span> that kiln!<br /><br />I made a bunch of these little herb plant markers. They're sorta messy but will be just fine hanging from wires in my herb beds; I need to buy some letters for stamping words in clay. When I die, the art and craft supply dealers are gonna miss me.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS16NidUF-gq5RZa4bpbL1iCqlx8bjpTPPsR2eclM6_B5AaIeOt5zxdm2iOsk-r5cE-Xzss_TSksIg03FL9TJfTMiZwBl2X3UlNAMCBQP4jDJVTDBkT1xI3__teo9Ha9ftEu-zicmWkjRk/s1600/Beginning-Pottery-5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS16NidUF-gq5RZa4bpbL1iCqlx8bjpTPPsR2eclM6_B5AaIeOt5zxdm2iOsk-r5cE-Xzss_TSksIg03FL9TJfTMiZwBl2X3UlNAMCBQP4jDJVTDBkT1xI3__teo9Ha9ftEu-zicmWkjRk/s400/Beginning-Pottery-5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606666412500134066" border="0" /></a><br />I'm not sure what this is........but it's not horrible. When it's dry, it will all be pale gray. The dark middle is where it's not quite dry yet. I just rolled it out and stamped the image of an old plastic Christmas place mat into it and then draped it over wadded up newspapers in a free-form fashion. It'll be interesting to see how well it glazes....or not. Oh, and I also need a slab roller, but for now, a rolling pin on a canvas covered board works fine.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgrX0hw4KuUJI9laJ8f5NpM_UlCfeyL_aXvci8Kkvmr6fu7_J6o7iFHmT6LrklfGYmFwe_rRtu13nFt2plKfqYB5Ic6ryaPw69xUCJvRCZcpWx_zQJ6a6mU4qldIDlnK7uiZGo9Btyn3Q/s1600/Beginning-Pottery-6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgrX0hw4KuUJI9laJ8f5NpM_UlCfeyL_aXvci8Kkvmr6fu7_J6o7iFHmT6LrklfGYmFwe_rRtu13nFt2plKfqYB5Ic6ryaPw69xUCJvRCZcpWx_zQJ6a6mU4qldIDlnK7uiZGo9Btyn3Q/s400/Beginning-Pottery-6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606666516463559218" border="0" /></a><br />This is a vase, about 10 inches high, that I made by wrapping a slab around a pretzel jar, and then I stamped leaf patterns all over it, played with the edges and added little strips to look like toggle buttons, and when it was stiff enough but not completely dry, I slipped it off the jar and added a bottom.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn5cfIQQ1dBree3dxAI8nzFCn8K1AZHFK1XuAGRn461pTfUr70ntrOpBZVi_AKlKinLGvHR_bXmQDp2xLGtCu7ebMHJlXxHHmo2MNUhUQkRx923fZ-Qg3WUGVvVGElxBJ31e9yjpPYF6Dg/s1600/Beginning-Pottery-4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn5cfIQQ1dBree3dxAI8nzFCn8K1AZHFK1XuAGRn461pTfUr70ntrOpBZVi_AKlKinLGvHR_bXmQDp2xLGtCu7ebMHJlXxHHmo2MNUhUQkRx923fZ-Qg3WUGVvVGElxBJ31e9yjpPYF6Dg/s400/Beginning-Pottery-4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606666410048157346" border="0" /></a><br />If you've ever made a lattice top on an apple pie, you know this technique. I'm liking this bowl; it's about 4 inches deep and 8 inches wide at the top. I cut strips from a slab, using a fettling knife, but it would be really cool to have an extruder. Uh, Santa.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbdpl31pt2qu7v9ka8Z_398ARZFPw1oZJ7UvxuQmuI1Osx7GPJGHDx2FLm26HQer41ANxIbdjnBGLAf-J_yPYHfPcfNyivH8k4uOn3hEo-fDj_Kt3DrmusjU6s2YUsPtg1aqwLg6qXUB8r/s1600/Beginning-Pottery.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 375px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbdpl31pt2qu7v9ka8Z_398ARZFPw1oZJ7UvxuQmuI1Osx7GPJGHDx2FLm26HQer41ANxIbdjnBGLAf-J_yPYHfPcfNyivH8k4uOn3hEo-fDj_Kt3DrmusjU6s2YUsPtg1aqwLg6qXUB8r/s400/Beginning-Pottery.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606666400361380594" border="0" /></a><br />And here is what I was working my way up to, and had no idea if I could do it, but she turned out not half bad. Anyway, she's a beginning, and I'm sure Jane will point out areas where I could have used better techniques. I predict more figurines in my future. I would have loved to have a banding wheel, so I could turn the piece as I worked on it, but I managed with just a small plastic board....still, it would be nice to have that banding wheel.....if a certain someone is listening.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyfvzjmXqmC-nOgCcv70MUcUoqWBxj8PM9ofXIdt6N2c7DeKHpH0xJBFj_jYCBmHqg5KpobBLGl-fQ799sazzlM8icBwzCUQFK8VubjUduggvTcM2tiCqEylFSmf4Tss-uFdoWJ984vjho/s1600/Beginning-Pottery-3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 269px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyfvzjmXqmC-nOgCcv70MUcUoqWBxj8PM9ofXIdt6N2c7DeKHpH0xJBFj_jYCBmHqg5KpobBLGl-fQ799sazzlM8icBwzCUQFK8VubjUduggvTcM2tiCqEylFSmf4Tss-uFdoWJ984vjho/s400/Beginning-Pottery-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606666408940887890" border="0" /></a><br />My week went whizzing by, and I'd wake up each morning thinking of what I could make in clay. Marley hates it when I play with clay because he doesn't do loud noises, and I'm always pounding or slamming the slabs of clay around, and he takes off for his bed in the kitchen. But the storms had a positive outcome for him. He now sleeps in the bed with us full time. He gets so overcome with happiness and gratitude at bedtime we haven't had the heart to tell him not tonight, and anyway, he's a very good boy, and if he gets shoved by a foot during the night, he just scooches over and goes back to his soft little snoring....and besides I have cold feet. Shih Tzus are very warm.<br /><br />I'll share more of my work as I progress, and I'll show you how these look after firing and glazing. My first attempt at glazing ugly pots was pretty awful. I guess it's true; you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Wish me luck with these, and I'd welcome any suggestions as to colors.<br />Marley and I are so glad you stopped by!<br />Love,<br />Cat & Marley<br /><br />P.S. I looked up the term, and here's what I found. I still think it should be a spinning wheel.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">The Old English word thrawan from which to throw comes, means to twist or turn. Going back even farther, the Indo-European root *ter- means to rub, rub by twisting, twist, turn. The German word drehen, a direct relative of to throw, means turn and is used in German for throwing. Because the activity of forming pots on the wheel has not changed since Old English times, the word throw has retained its original meaning in the language of pottery but has developed a completely different meaning in everyday usage.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-44756151865757159712011-04-28T08:13:00.000-07:002011-04-29T04:00:31.769-07:00Morning Walk: Practicing Love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggUrPsQ2phjez6CEK9Fvfjl4z7igNooqaVGxM89XtNhk_pN8KA4Pxe2bkh55n0e12fzoYOpTQgN4bTWSLqUaz6XxcNUUUQIwv-zKzdMdYkcRg_DL4D6_Bd7rjuPth_UDeOUBELsOjK9srm/s1600/Morning-Walk.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600671917893505394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggUrPsQ2phjez6CEK9Fvfjl4z7igNooqaVGxM89XtNhk_pN8KA4Pxe2bkh55n0e12fzoYOpTQgN4bTWSLqUaz6XxcNUUUQIwv-zKzdMdYkcRg_DL4D6_Bd7rjuPth_UDeOUBELsOjK9srm/s400/Morning-Walk.jpg" /></a><br />Sometimes I'll catch myself expending more energy on negative thoughts than on positive ones. Negative thoughts suck the energy from us and from the Universe while positive ones make us all richer. This morning on my walk around the neighborhood, I reprimanded my brain good and proper and focused on things that I love, like, or appreciate instead of fuming that the trash guys never pick up bottles or paper that spill out of the cans.<br /><br />As I lock the front door, I'm grateful that the tornadic winds didn't tip over my tall clay pots this time and didn't even damage the fragile irises blooming by the fence or the baby oxalis in a lower pot. Strange how those lethal winds seem to pick and choose their victims. I can hear Marley behind me, trying to scratch his way through the window, and I love how he loves me.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMbbcshAHep1J3ztgYjayO3K_-vqDehTlpx73oCyyS8bJ8cSHWgxS3CvIv-Gl8YzBQekzz6SbyccLmW_Afx51q0ZgxOmTRcMr0A6dd8kbG6Mqxl99EkQQeJGic_Hp7BUr0MjcT4B5x_RHu/s1600/Morning-Walk-2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 340px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600671915117405442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMbbcshAHep1J3ztgYjayO3K_-vqDehTlpx73oCyyS8bJ8cSHWgxS3CvIv-Gl8YzBQekzz6SbyccLmW_Afx51q0ZgxOmTRcMr0A6dd8kbG6Mqxl99EkQQeJGic_Hp7BUr0MjcT4B5x_RHu/s400/Morning-Walk-2.jpg" /></a><br />And now the storms have passed at last, and I love how deeply, richly blue the sky is and how the breeze feels washed and crisp and clean. I like how the sunlight glows on that little bunch of yellow pansies by a neighbor's mailbox. I enjoy how my muscles begin to stretch and relax as I get into my stride. Sometimes I listen to music when I walk, but mostly I think better if I walk acapella. In my jeans pocket, my iPhone jingles to tell me I've got a Words play; I won't stop to play now, but I like knowing it's there, waiting for me.<br /><br />Oh, and I really like that patch of hundreds of pink primroses nodding in the wind, and there's an iron chair in the middle of them. Good idea. Maybe Jim would like to dig me a primrose bed. I love that when I meet neighbors walking they nod or say Good Morning; I meet 3 together, walking slowly, heads bent to the center, talking intently. Part of me wishes they'd ask me to walk with them, but I'd have to walk slower, and we'd talk about someone's sick child or grandchild or what the dog tore up or last night's corn casserole recipe, all good and worthy topics, but I'm busy practicing here.<br /><br />In a long stretch of perfectly coiffed lawns, I wonder why this one has gone raggedy and weedy. Someone might be sick, or there may be a divorce. Nope, we're thinking positive! I'll bet they're in London, camped along the street to watch the Royal Wedding procession. He didn't much want to go, but she said this will be her birthday gift, and besides, he never wants to do anything fun, so he made the reservations and even wore the ridiculous hat she bought him with a red, white and blue silk band. I love that they're having such a great time.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMDfI05M6m9xXnoX2kcCTVqiKkr2nl6nKjEFaaB7tYcFKhPGw2Ol8aK31zOIB5yIlTtaNEvspTCh3D3arj5amLRmhToFi325Wdmeh7eJHeXm1bYkbXbXxn3SXtPvI5CAE0U3swMwrp6hf5/s1600/Morning-Walk-3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600671911609480018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMDfI05M6m9xXnoX2kcCTVqiKkr2nl6nKjEFaaB7tYcFKhPGw2Ol8aK31zOIB5yIlTtaNEvspTCh3D3arj5amLRmhToFi325Wdmeh7eJHeXm1bYkbXbXxn3SXtPvI5CAE0U3swMwrp6hf5/s400/Morning-Walk-3.jpg" /></a><br />As I'm about to turn right and head toward home, I notice that the street to the left has way too many cars parked at the curb, so I turn left instead to check it out and discover it's overflow from the middle school, having some sort of outdoor celebration, I'm guessing a belated Earth Day, and I love that I don't teach anymore and that I'm free to do what I want. Teaching has it's rewards, but for the most part it's like trying to coerce wild bunnies into becoming upstanding rabbit citizens, very hard and mostly impossible. So I turn towards home, and I'm grateful for my curiosity. It has led me into some sticky situations as well as into discoveries that changed my life for the better.<br /><br />Finally, as I make my way back up my street and open the front door, I love that I have Marley waiting for me, all squeaky and happy and a little bit psycho, needing desperately to give me kisses. You'd think I'd been gone all day rather than 45 minutes. Yeah, there's an awful lot still left in this raggedy ol' world to love.<br />Thanks for stopping by to visit Marley and me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-39427773928774258782011-04-12T11:13:00.000-07:002011-04-12T12:13:14.406-07:00Pottery, Paintings, iPhones, and Almost Eaten by a Bulldog<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmA-9kl-wEnynJ-vK9pixtNcnGpm_hSckzoM3NGgpFDHcT7jfVv03zUeAw5YGFFRt81c2kEzs8iLknVtlT4qVCIZc5bzEp1Bg4YPRHvsMMZybdtRt6rBopJ7OYvAxZNRf_0u_XxSx7HJaX/s1600/Apr6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmA-9kl-wEnynJ-vK9pixtNcnGpm_hSckzoM3NGgpFDHcT7jfVv03zUeAw5YGFFRt81c2kEzs8iLknVtlT4qVCIZc5bzEp1Bg4YPRHvsMMZybdtRt6rBopJ7OYvAxZNRf_0u_XxSx7HJaX/s400/Apr6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594771640532541762" border="0" /></a><br />Okay, it's spring......again. We had spring, and it ran away, and we went back to winter clothes, and now it's here with a vengeance, rain, storms, hail, and near 90 degrees a couple of days.<br /><br />Marley hurt his foot (we still don't know how), but I took him to the vet, and now it's all better. I was a basket case, though, almost as much as when Dave used to get sick or hurt, and when I told a couple of friends afterwards about the ordeal, complete with an American bulldog that kept lunging at us (for 2 hours) while its skinny owner thought it was funny that she had no control over him chatted happily and preened herself in her spike heels and jeans with the knees blown out, Colleen said I should have taken pics for my blog........she was right. But I do have some things to share with you.<br /><br />I've been going to pottery class at the <span style="font-style: italic;">Arkansas Arts Center</span> for 3 weeks! It's just as interesting as I thought it would be but painfully slow at getting to the exciting stuff like using the wheel (which won't come till next semester) and glazing and using the kilns, which we're (hopefully) doing next week. My first impressions are that this is an art you'll probably be good at if you like it, but of course people who have been doing it for years are better than us newbies, by far. My humble little pinch pots, coil pots and slab pots are not things of beauty, but I'll show them to you once they're glazed. Three weeks and not one finished piece yet........sigh.<br /><br />But I think these pieces of pottery showing glazes and colors do look like art.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8d75p3o1puqTffEiKnlFnauS28Zy4iwnM0VL_ydTc22WZUipG7l1VyKxtq7vLeWGUNLJOHUGMrh6p5HJ_QrbpbUtk4ObjAgxcKaMVmv2BGmD86ii2E-9418tJtdD5r1-TazPWt8aX3aD1/s1600/Apr4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8d75p3o1puqTffEiKnlFnauS28Zy4iwnM0VL_ydTc22WZUipG7l1VyKxtq7vLeWGUNLJOHUGMrh6p5HJ_QrbpbUtk4ObjAgxcKaMVmv2BGmD86ii2E-9418tJtdD5r1-TazPWt8aX3aD1/s400/Apr4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594770695438968754" border="0" /></a><br />This is Jane showing us how to wrap a slab around PVC and newspaper for support. She's a good teacher and knows her stuff.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDI39FSQ90MiCWjS0-rNVDzMPTcPjnPwKQHGMjcb50OELCO1mXUuHWQ0q7T-8ggkjkbQYL5WPEz-nRqU_b6EwnSfi48roK8R3aj_5rYvqb5jcgODTq8EV7W2z1p4CukuXUVafvCUIXrgno/s1600/Apr3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDI39FSQ90MiCWjS0-rNVDzMPTcPjnPwKQHGMjcb50OELCO1mXUuHWQ0q7T-8ggkjkbQYL5WPEz-nRqU_b6EwnSfi48roK8R3aj_5rYvqb5jcgODTq8EV7W2z1p4CukuXUVafvCUIXrgno/s400/Apr3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594770693415300194" border="0" /></a><br />This is a painting within a collage that I finished for my kitchen. I'm probably the only one who likes it, but sometimes that's enough. Those are pear leaves sprayed gold, and the driftwood came from the Oregon Coast, my <span style="font-style:italic;">real</span> home I've been longing for since I was 2 years old; I dyed a piece of cheese cloth for it, and that's a piece of iridescent stained glass that I cut in that little square. I wanted a finished edge for this collage and the other 2 I showed you earlier, but I couldn't find the edging I wanted at Home Depot, so Jim made it for me. What would I do without him? Collages on wood just look sooooo much more finished with an edge.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPmXP_E_qlJiQHwQIyNliaRNDRi4pKhc5A6UyPg54x3K_qNQk8ElB9iAZyn0qF_4_iMrxbAmzHp-XOcW3LMf6BjscgT41v4pMavowK31NLvt3xvF_LgobUiR5IK9cYQiAq2dJTy6K_Ema/s1600/Apr2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPmXP_E_qlJiQHwQIyNliaRNDRi4pKhc5A6UyPg54x3K_qNQk8ElB9iAZyn0qF_4_iMrxbAmzHp-XOcW3LMf6BjscgT41v4pMavowK31NLvt3xvF_LgobUiR5IK9cYQiAq2dJTy6K_Ema/s400/Apr2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594770684787167138" border="0" /></a><br />This is a peek at the painting that's been dragging on for a while. It's not there yet, and I may just paint over it. I'm more interested in playing with clay right now.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht4Qi-e7KqiclXBhMt3VSMg-5K4NrcpBM5r7uXjaduAQ8ol27oDECcPsztPrUPx_pCnm4GO0XySObmbS4Yq47iCGRxnAyhy-AKI9KGC3y1HmWH8rhuK8MesaaVCN3xtfZlSh5-7BlznKnU/s1600/Apr.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 312px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht4Qi-e7KqiclXBhMt3VSMg-5K4NrcpBM5r7uXjaduAQ8ol27oDECcPsztPrUPx_pCnm4GO0XySObmbS4Yq47iCGRxnAyhy-AKI9KGC3y1HmWH8rhuK8MesaaVCN3xtfZlSh5-7BlznKnU/s400/Apr.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594770678029352274" border="0" /></a><br />And I've also been playing LOTS with my new iPhone. It's the second best birthday gift I've ever gotten, Marley being first, of course. But who knew I'd like it so much? I love apps, and there's literally one for everything. I even like the camera, and I have an app that gives some really fun photo effects. Of course you can do those in PhotoShop, but it's more fun to see the effects as you're shooting. Camera phones have come a long way, Baby, since my first one. The first photo at the top looks a little like infrared photography.<br /><br />This effect is unpredictable but colorful.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7olIc60V7ht9rTVD9P1G246cZnD0XNgGnQOy1Kld5fBIOxfJPE_H-DYTv16dCqyatSaA9_r1i_nOdFg0gXaFiZ8JAuu6STNZ9EMucGrjZspnGojk5XLbFnVgwKU4WyTBIpRijIe97zLYn/s1600/Apr5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7olIc60V7ht9rTVD9P1G246cZnD0XNgGnQOy1Kld5fBIOxfJPE_H-DYTv16dCqyatSaA9_r1i_nOdFg0gXaFiZ8JAuu6STNZ9EMucGrjZspnGojk5XLbFnVgwKU4WyTBIpRijIe97zLYn/s400/Apr5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594771639710853618" border="0" /></a><br />And this is an abstract, posterized, pic of Marley. He's on the left side, looking right, and you can see his little nose sticking up.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhko8dB6Pz6WCGrHIRoZNehGMtlETmf9wYWrKSOnW6RBx43Yo_NFzkfYWw9Ci25f0_4uE8GFmJnnTA0jYbtSW4cmOBxmLC-n2pzHqwt8SgmhLtYHWpogjpMMrLNAPPN2k9-0-tMQ9G2HpAC/s1600/Apr7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhko8dB6Pz6WCGrHIRoZNehGMtlETmf9wYWrKSOnW6RBx43Yo_NFzkfYWw9Ci25f0_4uE8GFmJnnTA0jYbtSW4cmOBxmLC-n2pzHqwt8SgmhLtYHWpogjpMMrLNAPPN2k9-0-tMQ9G2HpAC/s400/Apr7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594771644954936498" border="0" /></a><br />Next time I'll share some more effects as well as some of my pottery. Thanks very much for stopping by!<br />Love,<br />Cat & MarleyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-61606045315159314002011-03-22T16:29:00.000-07:002011-03-22T17:37:29.112-07:00This 'n ThatI have a painting and a collage in the works but nothing ready to show, so here are a few pics I've taken lately that I thought you might like.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiYBGj-HjYcVWs4phwu0EN0EQuX666dPM_FoOkHaL9lyLJj7fpkI647-TDJrSwo0fz8CtTx7rNlPTzI80R4ES2RlJ6lcF_DiRfCJmIOIV1uss4NrdqRNMA-ABDchg1dcdb4bu_Fzw364iY/s1600/March-2011-3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 335px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiYBGj-HjYcVWs4phwu0EN0EQuX666dPM_FoOkHaL9lyLJj7fpkI647-TDJrSwo0fz8CtTx7rNlPTzI80R4ES2RlJ6lcF_DiRfCJmIOIV1uss4NrdqRNMA-ABDchg1dcdb4bu_Fzw364iY/s400/March-2011-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587050734029027666" border="0" /></a><br />"No, Mom. I haven't been digging in the herb bed because I distinctly remember you telling me you would whack my fuzzy little butt if I did."<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh90TwFUw3vAs4-CtuXWJ560AcaK8ZLgj5gBIuhV1LyYQ6ycnmOfqHpaip7Po0MfCVVHVuvGARlATZd_Lr3FpeIH-Vn1uWdmo5obKZ5hhoiBhGzSfW3eYqrhGVY7GEw26w_QlNoPEO7sgYH/s1600/March-2011-2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh90TwFUw3vAs4-CtuXWJ560AcaK8ZLgj5gBIuhV1LyYQ6ycnmOfqHpaip7Po0MfCVVHVuvGARlATZd_Lr3FpeIH-Vn1uWdmo5obKZ5hhoiBhGzSfW3eYqrhGVY7GEw26w_QlNoPEO7sgYH/s400/March-2011-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587050732663641122" border="0" /></a><br />"Me, sniffing the poppies? Of course not! Why do you ask?"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr9StvUJS_XyxpA7Dl8aJPPof42uHc4wJF8s9SFvZEORq6gTxyboGLoerqgHEkwwwHzfDqTnrfej7hNDSOPwbzKPwJmung3VUtaAmsg4MHxsw745ib9Mz-4M0YWqjsGTnhIBtz_gZq17B_/s1600/March-2011.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr9StvUJS_XyxpA7Dl8aJPPof42uHc4wJF8s9SFvZEORq6gTxyboGLoerqgHEkwwwHzfDqTnrfej7hNDSOPwbzKPwJmung3VUtaAmsg4MHxsw745ib9Mz-4M0YWqjsGTnhIBtz_gZq17B_/s400/March-2011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587050728045866882" border="0" /></a><br />"Nope, Dad. I don't remember where my new golf ball came from, but it's definitely not one of your collectibles!"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRk4M20yYOXrvcCY3z-32Y57NL_ZeCDcmzNn3P3YFAmBnvgnHltlPbETek9bixTV9qnNGO-7PCRutcx8ATDr5lWNr7Ik6ase_sL2IuukK2QYf6D6FUofcoxemzexATm-cj54i3sdxKpxln/s1600/March-2011-4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 338px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRk4M20yYOXrvcCY3z-32Y57NL_ZeCDcmzNn3P3YFAmBnvgnHltlPbETek9bixTV9qnNGO-7PCRutcx8ATDr5lWNr7Ik6ase_sL2IuukK2QYf6D6FUofcoxemzexATm-cj54i3sdxKpxln/s400/March-2011-4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587052151016091778" border="0" /></a><br />My sister Nan and I spent the day together, and we stopped by the Old Mill park.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCjlvtT69SkxcDvYJXE_q1Vje59F0tfLWX1BPn_uw7lAnnV-XXoE3FnCxw4HKfIAi-mWqrjb9y7c33oJX-NWW8AzSsClsUtBZQb16eFdiy-MLZ9HIcyI5evMOg7BIRnhLHTrQ0IPipOGMY/s1600/March-2011-5.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCjlvtT69SkxcDvYJXE_q1Vje59F0tfLWX1BPn_uw7lAnnV-XXoE3FnCxw4HKfIAi-mWqrjb9y7c33oJX-NWW8AzSsClsUtBZQb16eFdiy-MLZ9HIcyI5evMOg7BIRnhLHTrQ0IPipOGMY/s400/March-2011-5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587052156995881362" border="0" /></a><br />Nan on a bridge, <span style="font-style: italic;">Senor Dionico Rodriguez, a sculptor and artist, was responsible for all the details of each piece of concrete work made to represent wood, iron or stone, as well as the designing of the foot bridges and rustic seats. Rodriguez's secret techniques were so detailed and exacting that you can identify the species of trees in most of his work. Rodriguez worked without any written plans, but there are unwritten stories that describe how Rodriguez envisioned many of his works. "A black locust tree grew in the soft earth on the bank of the little stream. When it reached a certain height it was blown down, but continued to live. A woodsman who wanted to use the trunk of the tree as a footbridge cut off the limbs and..."</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUqmkUfpUKhzxnpqxnnGjvuJ4RjGiUqOiPKBy7-4Pa45zX_kiaWUFB9If5LYTG3AcfS4gCZDw2h0OYui1QDgWq8IdZrjMUdZOzWTTVGHYT-nd8e17ixiKNnBXXQZ-5TYiS78Qp22R55GSn/s1600/March-2011-6.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUqmkUfpUKhzxnpqxnnGjvuJ4RjGiUqOiPKBy7-4Pa45zX_kiaWUFB9If5LYTG3AcfS4gCZDw2h0OYui1QDgWq8IdZrjMUdZOzWTTVGHYT-nd8e17ixiKNnBXXQZ-5TYiS78Qp22R55GSn/s400/March-2011-6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587052168512492738" border="0" /></a><br />We thought the park would be lush with spring blooms, but there weren't many yet.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-z7ISOtaaGBKPmMdij7B6XQvsPrzrsqak6TeHlRLj5irK0KW11ikrEZ05PRwV5VAEVu2uGk0yLmdxMtJ8tnA8FfbF89WmaGS7WuwMwv9l7g8c4YfwsDbs6jqgGwmWNfHR92lHJ1GdMSn/s1600/March-2011-7.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-z7ISOtaaGBKPmMdij7B6XQvsPrzrsqak6TeHlRLj5irK0KW11ikrEZ05PRwV5VAEVu2uGk0yLmdxMtJ8tnA8FfbF89WmaGS7WuwMwv9l7g8c4YfwsDbs6jqgGwmWNfHR92lHJ1GdMSn/s400/March-2011-7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587056031455411154" border="0" /></a><br />Jonquils were in full bloom on Deb's table, though, when I drove up to visit her, Dave and Mollie. I thought this was such a pretty arrangement using soft drink bottles in the little basket.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizSX-z4kChOJqpdw0jDqJQ61EZqpuElp9UdvQ1VXDRWv6w1t8mgSM2DDg1kq8qw8QaBlPekEynJ6kqrUJ_IOZVS69UKJBhv-hRhk0Z_XFrgn1LClnGVgvb5YGapBpF2sHFaRWIYfKKnwzn/s1600/March-2011-8.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 331px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizSX-z4kChOJqpdw0jDqJQ61EZqpuElp9UdvQ1VXDRWv6w1t8mgSM2DDg1kq8qw8QaBlPekEynJ6kqrUJ_IOZVS69UKJBhv-hRhk0Z_XFrgn1LClnGVgvb5YGapBpF2sHFaRWIYfKKnwzn/s400/March-2011-8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587056022449315362" border="0" /></a><br />Mollie's compact horse.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtJsyuDn_ECJqAeVZ7pvLHeVZ-EvwO6yMn1qlZ8h4z1hd1s-Ma6S9lBAsmutqdNrezxRxSL2jZdE2roYFFrTJsDuzMfY5Yc55obQI9SbOV6_Wgn3f7k8SCf59_CBbxbUboEgxrI5Zzp8oQ/s1600/March-2011-9.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 383px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtJsyuDn_ECJqAeVZ7pvLHeVZ-EvwO6yMn1qlZ8h4z1hd1s-Ma6S9lBAsmutqdNrezxRxSL2jZdE2roYFFrTJsDuzMfY5Yc55obQI9SbOV6_Wgn3f7k8SCf59_CBbxbUboEgxrI5Zzp8oQ/s400/March-2011-9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587056015545297650" border="0" /></a><br />She showed me the rest of her menagerie, including hermit crabs (camera shy), baby chicks, ducks, geese, rabbits, dogs, cats, and all kinds of critters; it's like visiting a petting zoo.<br /><br />And that's it for now during these busy, happy spring days.<br />Thanks for stopping by!<br />Cat & MarleyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2321574708537812705.post-7368980087791777922011-03-03T11:10:00.000-08:002011-03-03T13:30:45.738-08:00Spring has Sprung!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicX-vUiA1Y10vNKBA0ejSp5tiuS9h_gEd69Pjwcaw33-dML9hly34m060uKb7ch38CrwoVJrglXm2pwauKdF_A2jpEbVgLOVv-SMRePi6qwslJme9o1GThzMfTF0xW0UgI91LCt-cAnOzl/s1600/springtime2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicX-vUiA1Y10vNKBA0ejSp5tiuS9h_gEd69Pjwcaw33-dML9hly34m060uKb7ch38CrwoVJrglXm2pwauKdF_A2jpEbVgLOVv-SMRePi6qwslJme9o1GThzMfTF0xW0UgI91LCt-cAnOzl/s400/springtime2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579964264463798546" border="0" /></a><br />The calendar won't admit it, but spring is definitely in the air. I always plan to get lots done during winter, like watercolors, collage, and digital art, but somehow time just grinds by with little to show for it, and though I have more time on my hands, I do fewer blog posts, and finally we make it back to spring. Spring renews me; I don't think I'd like living where they don't have defined seasons.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixqVrJanVTt63ov6BVO2OtSuYGO7RYrsjVr0ibOxcACchtOYVnUQB84H8jieFS93zen6NZ47rt6OfylFvyvXk335RRqgz_BkTQgJJ7t4Nts79URMXUyh-4aSyhK7z36oAJkFzn76MFNGqI/s1600/springtime10.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 321px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixqVrJanVTt63ov6BVO2OtSuYGO7RYrsjVr0ibOxcACchtOYVnUQB84H8jieFS93zen6NZ47rt6OfylFvyvXk335RRqgz_BkTQgJJ7t4Nts79URMXUyh-4aSyhK7z36oAJkFzn76MFNGqI/s400/springtime10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579965666521625522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi074qqOANXb4vnSHU84uRU_nHXryuZ41vjEoZgNcA3cTxbUj_nh3fnjDdQNwae2GodXooOQEyHaaC1SdikCzCrO8G4ACtAatSMUujyUavP-T9udGy53F-bKYgFAmR8dsiVsYhh1ugfyhKx/s1600/springtime9.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 315px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi074qqOANXb4vnSHU84uRU_nHXryuZ41vjEoZgNcA3cTxbUj_nh3fnjDdQNwae2GodXooOQEyHaaC1SdikCzCrO8G4ACtAatSMUujyUavP-T9udGy53F-bKYgFAmR8dsiVsYhh1ugfyhKx/s400/springtime9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579965660128665730" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-9OGbeTM68Gjc7W7BTKQOtdlOMraSkjbsygC-ERiEmE3sqJet08cWsXmRQwEyYFQ8ZaiyUwL4F-7IlTaJ2ZKSi8-VWETD9pi1zCtpwOgjB6hkCpQMDC_yuPebpiZd_jBRcIDlxXZf3aCa/s1600/springtime8.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 321px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-9OGbeTM68Gjc7W7BTKQOtdlOMraSkjbsygC-ERiEmE3sqJet08cWsXmRQwEyYFQ8ZaiyUwL4F-7IlTaJ2ZKSi8-VWETD9pi1zCtpwOgjB6hkCpQMDC_yuPebpiZd_jBRcIDlxXZf3aCa/s400/springtime8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579965656037100514" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXSi_mKxR82IDiL_OWWseOyMOb7Y1vcsB7koLqtjRy3-Gmw_s0P_Ck-53LQGu71txYyjimzU5LzIqWgo8pNPiekvMNzmHN3adFbX6hZpFwToH8b-aO3vgapZURJeP4IV7bFiXEUSFtUWv-/s1600/springtime7.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 331px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXSi_mKxR82IDiL_OWWseOyMOb7Y1vcsB7koLqtjRy3-Gmw_s0P_Ck-53LQGu71txYyjimzU5LzIqWgo8pNPiekvMNzmHN3adFbX6hZpFwToH8b-aO3vgapZURJeP4IV7bFiXEUSFtUWv-/s400/springtime7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579965651878069138" border="0" /></a><br />We've already been busy outdoors. Remember <span style="font-style: italic;">Harry</span>? The beautiful wisteria that covered the arbor and bloomed profusely in spring and shaded us in summer? I planted him 7 years ago, a spindly little brown sprig that just growed like Topsy and tried to take over the world, despite weekly trimmings all summer long. Well, we cut his life short, for several reasons, one being that he was trying to undermine the house, and while I loved Harry, I love my home more. Also, the blooms are poisonous to dogs, and you <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> I love Marley far better than any plant. We spent all Sunday afternoon cutting down Harry with a chain-saw and loppers and dragging him off into the woods; jobs like that, I realize I'm not as young as I used to be. We've ordered some knitted shade cloth to stretch over the top instead. I'll show you when we get it, though it won't be as nearly as pretty.<br />Rest in Peace, Harry.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZdx0tZIXi_CSsLuQDJS6VeVdfH_XI-vTHnl87GBpNq9EOpixtALaMrqarpROjMd6oHGSOuOS35nhyphenhyphenEmjDnhUk2ayRdcUuwd86mcPZJUbI7N2kd3Y8oljlTTBTf9eeTbYTZpsOGKi1sdr/s1600/springtime11.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixZdx0tZIXi_CSsLuQDJS6VeVdfH_XI-vTHnl87GBpNq9EOpixtALaMrqarpROjMd6oHGSOuOS35nhyphenhyphenEmjDnhUk2ayRdcUuwd86mcPZJUbI7N2kd3Y8oljlTTBTf9eeTbYTZpsOGKi1sdr/s400/springtime11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579966521707323954" border="0" /></a><br />My fruit trees are budding and flowers are peeking out, not many blooms but soon. The pansies and decorative cabbages stayed pretty all winter, and now I need to till them up and replace them with herbs, big plans for herbs this year. I planted elephant ear bulbs, hoping to get some gi-normous leaves for playing with hypertufa. No residents in the bluebird box yet.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW5eGYRTTnq-1qLSDO41bZhj-Y7aGUC37apXWUKNvvKRfDu8TjwzeGfZ48UjntgtFUp9haCqGtrVXSPIYv9zUG8z8jMxdVS32B2QXKllKOp8dargXkOHtpVO5DifuUrodG3bBzUihcNJYj/s1600/springtime3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 318px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW5eGYRTTnq-1qLSDO41bZhj-Y7aGUC37apXWUKNvvKRfDu8TjwzeGfZ48UjntgtFUp9haCqGtrVXSPIYv9zUG8z8jMxdVS32B2QXKllKOp8dargXkOHtpVO5DifuUrodG3bBzUihcNJYj/s400/springtime3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579964275549909794" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQHJ5M2IRqqYPsNKoW059fejW1DikZD7U8Lp-3W21SMAqLQ9tiZDn20G_dJcVgx-NC6MfvVLZTkBzjEiWe6dMaBdH6oSPuxs_LW2QA1QHkRHzJHkYx9_WFLpUCBQn88qd6TbaV1RHAfmS/s1600/springtime.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQHJ5M2IRqqYPsNKoW059fejW1DikZD7U8Lp-3W21SMAqLQ9tiZDn20G_dJcVgx-NC6MfvVLZTkBzjEiWe6dMaBdH6oSPuxs_LW2QA1QHkRHzJHkYx9_WFLpUCBQn88qd6TbaV1RHAfmS/s400/springtime.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579964259339911330" border="0" /></a><br />We went to the <span style="font-style: italic;">Arkansas Flower and Garden Show</span>, and one of the ideas I <span style="font-style: italic;">borrowed</span> was a pretty little table and chair set for our screened-in deck, a nice place to sit and drink morning coffee. I mentioned it to Jim, and the same day he was building the table. I have one bent wood chair that I'm going to use, and I'm looking around for another one, unmatched, hopefully a ladder back with woven cane bottom. And then it dawned on me, most anything can be made to look more special with some cut glass mosaics stuck on it, so some parts of the chairs will be mosaiced. I've already sanded the chair and had no qualms about making it my next victim. It's the world's most uncomfortable chair. Now you may say, and rightly so, that sticking bits of glass to the seat won't improve on its comfort quotient, but if I get it nice and smooth, it can't hurt much, either.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyAUFeUiCkwvBf_YDcZjt4FxIbr3__1LW8i4OJ0s7aB0t4Y8hPXpk76G-ge11Zg32S-qUr9hPQZTByo-Oo-ZVsKiQcouiqUvrjPzIfnb76GC5Lw4p1Kj8DqIpRjEC_Okrus7_WkHE2QSKv/s1600/springtime6.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyAUFeUiCkwvBf_YDcZjt4FxIbr3__1LW8i4OJ0s7aB0t4Y8hPXpk76G-ge11Zg32S-qUr9hPQZTByo-Oo-ZVsKiQcouiqUvrjPzIfnb76GC5Lw4p1Kj8DqIpRjEC_Okrus7_WkHE2QSKv/s400/springtime6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579965649110216498" border="0" /></a><br />Marley has spent a lot of time on his little stool at the window, watching cars and walkers come down the hill. When he sees a red truck, he always thinks it's Jim and goes racing to the kitchen door, yipping and crying as if it's been a year since he saw him.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0EcuC4zyLmoSe0oL2JAA7DTYoLN9Rmxoc6dpKbNNOxHo05kaagAOuVEkSxea2Dyuw7Nym5tFGgKNMcQ05aLrlN3JR7SPnt2qHdDbfobgvflUFcJ7TUsiDHri_XEv3QQfjTmwu65vkgL0M/s1600/springtime5.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 338px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0EcuC4zyLmoSe0oL2JAA7DTYoLN9Rmxoc6dpKbNNOxHo05kaagAOuVEkSxea2Dyuw7Nym5tFGgKNMcQ05aLrlN3JR7SPnt2qHdDbfobgvflUFcJ7TUsiDHri_XEv3QQfjTmwu65vkgL0M/s400/springtime5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579964290508828690" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju5T0O7YAvI2fQLmyg2yIAcI4iFbg5vg0MjGV09qbrtwSTLQooQTqyLENLSt996mkPTgpP-F01TaTHYpnPx7SKlLoRo__6Synbks8yb6VREKCEswT06cnQQwp0GyALB5DQFlIkbwfb_sSm/s1600/springtime4.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 337px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju5T0O7YAvI2fQLmyg2yIAcI4iFbg5vg0MjGV09qbrtwSTLQooQTqyLENLSt996mkPTgpP-F01TaTHYpnPx7SKlLoRo__6Synbks8yb6VREKCEswT06cnQQwp0GyALB5DQFlIkbwfb_sSm/s400/springtime4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579964283446646610" border="0" /></a><br />So, these are my latest projects. I'm just so much happier when I've got projects in the works, especially when I can do them outdoors! I'll share my progress as it comes along.<br />Thanks for stopping by!<br />Love,<br />Cat & MarleyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06409224296833112594noreply@blogger.com2