I have about a million and ten pictures of my art to post. It'll happen any day now.

Mimosa

This has no hidden or otherwise interesting meaning. I just like pictures.

Lemon Jelly

I was supposed to be making lemon jelly. Instead I've been fooling around with this thing. Blogs are self indulgent.

Life, in 3 Acts

Act I
Scene: cute little house in Arcata
Time: Tuesday and into Wednesday

Unnamed female is a psychotic bitch for two and a half days straight. Nearly drives sweet, loving husband to murder. Narrowly escapes from hormonally induced blackout with life and shreds of sanity. Fears for her future. She probably isn't stable enough to reproduce.

Act II
Scene: doesn't matter
Time: Wednesday and a half

Things start coming back together. Unnamed female gets some business taken care of, feels a bit better about life. Cuddles with sweet husband, drives his to school, and goes to work. Gets more business taken care of, feels even better about things. Unnamed female goes home and makes pomegranate jelly, which is damn yummy. Makes a damn yummy dinner of pork tenderloin, red potatoes and a salad (her specialty). Hubby's tummy rumbles with happiness. Unnamed female cuddles with happy-bellied husband while watching 12 Monkeys. Female goes into tiny kitchen and prepares peanut butter cookie dough for hubby's sweet-tooth. Things are looking good.

Act III
Scene: same cute little green house in Arcata
Time: right before the cookies go in oven

A knock on the door. Enter police officer. Watch police officer tell Unnamed female that her car has been reported as the offender in a hit and run. Behold the complete lack of comprehension in female's eyes. Hear the police officer ask cette femme, if she kindly remembers hitting anyone and fleeing the scene? Watch and listen as she stutters in complete bafflement. (Such things generally stick in her memory.)

.....fade out as Unnamed female continues to stutter like an idiot, it doesn't get any more interesting after that......

The point is this. If it isn't one fucking thing, it's another. And I didn't fucking rear-end anyone's fucking Infinty. (Note in Act II, not even a whisper of it. It didn't happen.)

Today I realized that I am in fact, psychotic enough to be an artist.

Shoe

These are my contribution to the ceramics department's infamous shoe project.

I must have chickens or I will die.

I think maybe I couldn't kill them after all. I think I would love them, and I'm generally not very good at killing that sort of critter. I must have chickens. I had a big problem with a dead chicken tonight. Bran wanted chicken, so I got him a chicken, but it was really terrible. It tasted great, I think it was the best chicken I've ever cooked, but I felt awful about it. Usually I feel fine about eating the birdies, but tonight... I kept seeing it as a live chicken. It was kind of awful. Then Brandon and I got into a nasty fight, over the body of this bird (not about it, it was in between us) and I kept feeling like we were being disrespectful to the chicken, so I was upset about that, and it made the fight worse. I feel like I should give the rest of the chicken a burial instead of feeding it to my hub. I don't think I'll be eating any more of it. At least not this one. I think maybe my hormones are a bit off.

Birthday

I threw Brandon a bit of a bash last night, it was his 25th. Now that he's old enough to rent a car I guess he's officially a grown-up. We had a good time. I made him Japanese style curry, which he gets every year for his birthday, and I baked him a cake. It was the coconut cake recipe from my new dessert cookbook, Room for Dessert, and it was yummy. It still is yummy actually, we get leftovers tonight, assuming Brando ever gets home. Umm, the cake was good, you should make it.