Who goes there? Please leave comments so (An Aries Knows)!
Here’s my new iced coffee glass (plastic, actually, with a screw-on lid). Looks like something that I’d buy for Lila’s mom Laura, but I’m really keeping it. In other news, getting one of these glasses with their built-in hard plastic straws lets me know how often I bite or chew on a regular straw. Gotta stop that.
Margot and Guinness each have a medium-sized crate, which they love. But we also keep a large crate in our house for when the bigger dogs visit. Penny likes to hide toys in there to play with later. Guinness and Margot will go in it to get away from the big dogs when they’re being rowdy. I can crate Lynne’s little ones there together when they’re visiting and I need to leave the house for a while. The big crate gets a lot of use, which means its bedding does, too.
Whenever I shop at Jo-Ann’s, I check the remnant section because small pieces of fabric are perfect for doll clothes. I was there earlier today and spotted a larger remnant which, with a little sewing and stuffing, is now–TA DA!–a new dog bed for the big crate. So far, Margot has not let anyone else test it.
Peace, dawg.
My title is the old Quaker Oats slogan. From slashfood.com, some Wednesday trivia for you:
The Quaker Oats Quaker…was not modeled after a particular member of the Religious Society of Friends but was an advertising synthesis–trademarked in 1877 as “a figure of a man in Quaker garb.” The Quaker…became the first registered trademark for cereal. Why a Quaker? Original owners Henry Seymour and William Henson said Quakers stood for purity, honesty and good value.
I bought a fabric remnant forever ago from Jo-Ann Fabrics. This morning I finally turned that fabric into napkins.
These join last year’s napkin effort (from another Jo-Ann remnant). Those napkins were so small no one would use them, so this morning I also sewed them together, making four medium-sized napkins out of eight little ones.
Of course, all of these go with my ongoing project of napkin rings. Though at the moment, I have no idea where the unpainted napkin rings are. They’ll turn up sooner or later. In the meantime, the existing ones make a cheerful photo.
I was making myself some iced coffee in the kitchen earlier when I glanced into the living room and saw Penny on the back of the sofa. Penny’s a little broad for that perch, but I suppose she was driven to it because I won’t open the blinds, and it’s the best way for her to look out the front door. It’s freaking hot; I’m not about to invite the sun inside. I took a quick shot before she jumped down. Only when I uploaded it did I realize that I missed a spot when I swept the floors earlier (under the sofa).
That tuft of stuffing is left over from the horrible carnage I walked into last night after I took my eyes off the dogs for ten minutes.
See, Lisa? You’re not the only one with photos of dead things on the dog trail.
RIP, toy from Aunt Debby.
Saturday Lynne and a couple of her fellow crazy-people-who-like-to-shop stopped by for a visit between retail excursions. They then took Tom along with them for a trip to Texas Art Supply and some of the shops in the Heights. Later, they returned to The Compound for iced tea and pizza–and Lila established herself as the visiting artist.
Painting a teapot requires a lot of concentration. An old undershirt as a smock is also helpful–especially when donated from a gifted artist like Tim.
Some people say Lila is bossy because she’s an Aries. I say it’s a genetic link to two women whose names also start with the letter “L.”
Form and function: The artist is pleased by her first drink of clear “tea” from her finished tea set.
The day made me think a lot about creativity and how we foster it in children. Almost all of the artists I know–in whatever field–had someone who encouraged them, often with great resistance from those with more “practical” agendas–the ones who start whispering in your ear as you get older about all the ways you’ll never make a living from what you love. I think the tortured artist is a cliché, but I also think the unhappiness of an artist comes more from having creativity stifled or belittled than from the drive to create–and really, that experience is hardly limited to the arts.
Some people do and some people don’t make a living from what they create. But I often remember a college professor who said, “I’d rather know the world is being looked after by a statesman or scientist who understands and appreciates poetry than not.” I agree. I believe we’re all born with the enthusiasm to create. No matter what we pursue in life, we should always show some love toward our creative selves. I think it makes us better at everything else we do.
Our late dog Pete was not known for his kind disposition. In fact, he never met a person he wouldn’t contemplate biting. Two stints in obedience school never affected him, though if Tom and I are ever commanded to walk on a leash, sit, stay, heel, leave it, or lie down, we’ll get gold stars. We are also clicker trained, thanks to Margot.
Still, there were people Pete tolerated better than others–and there were two who sent him into a rage. The first of these was my nephew Josh. No one understood why my nephew Daniel could walk up and Pete would glance over and say, “Yeah, whatever,” then charge Josh with the full fury of his ten pounds.
To commemorate this family conflict, my sister (Josh’s mother) once gave us a little plastic dachshund wearing a red cape, carrying a pitchfork, and sporting devil horns. Thursday night, I made Pete’s Mini Me the center of a birthday cake for the other person who brought out Pete’s not-so-inner demon: Tim.
Here’s what the cake looked like:
I made one of Tim’s favorite meals, pot roast, and we were joined by Lynne, Minute, and Paco for dinner, cake, and gift opening.
Tim blows!
Later, Lynne demonstrated Pete’s Take-No-Prisoners approach to life.
Even though the cake was a bit decimated, Rhonda and Lindsey were able to join us at the end of the evening to enjoy a slice and add to Tim’s birthday celebration.
Thank you, everybody, for helping make Tim’s birthday festive! And Pete, wherever you are, I’m sorry no one bit him on the ankle for you. Maybe next year.
Recently I seem to be waking up more often with a little headache. It goes away as the day progresses, but still–it messes with my enjoyment of starting a day. This morning I ran errands early, and since I knew it was already going to be a day that I’d treat myself to the BACON breakfast when I came home, I decided to double my pleasure:
When I went outside to shoot today’s Magnetic Poetry poem (to be posted later), I got a nice little surprise. It’s not often I have camera in hand and such a close-up view. Enjoy!
Current Photo Friday theme: My World
Playing around with my camera last Christmas.
My world is full of color and light.
It’s the living room where so many friends and family members have gathered over the years.
It’s the dining room where we’ve shared meals, made art, and drunk endless cups of coffee with birthday cakes.
It’s the kitchen, and just beyond it, my computer, which is the nerve center of my work and play.
It’s where we lost two dogs and two more found us.
It’s where I took one of the last and best photos of my mother.
It’s full of books and photos and memories.
My world is my home.
Tom and I bought it in 1995, and it remains one of our best choices.
My name is Rex.
I have a stomach ache.
Tim had to take me to the vet.
Car!
We won’t talk about that thing they did.
There’s an empty sandwich wrapper on the table.
It wasn’t mine.
Maybe if I ate a sandwich, my stomach ache would go away.
And a pickle.
Don’t take my picture.