The rank and file

So I heard someone on the radio yesterday talking about book rankings on Amazon.com and I got curious about where my little tome - Storm CLouds Over Party Shoes, Etiquette Problems for the Ill-Bred Woman - was fairing in the pecking order.

2,550,202

That's exactly the sort of curiosity that killed the cat.

Turkey Has Let Herself Go

She showed up yesterday on the railing of my back deck, walking around without a care in the world, seemingly indifferent to the tragedy unfolding in and on her person. She is a figure accident waiting to happen, and the real heartbreak is that she may not even be aware of how perilously close she has veered to the cliff's edge. Apparently she has never heard the disparaging term 'turkey neck' and the concept of waddle has completely eluded her.

She has let herself go and she clearly doesn't give a damn.

60 is the new 40

Well, a lot has happened in the past while. For one thing, I turned 60. Who knew this could happen? I had a swellegant party and we ate the most magnificent cake (pictured above). It was pretty funny too because in all my considerable prep for this party - including learning how to use an MP3 and creating playlists of all my favorite disco tunes - I failed to supply forks for my many guests and we were forced to eat this cake with our bare hands.
That's one way to stay young.
Fortunately for me, there were no finger-painters in the crowd and the cake stayed pretty much where it belonged.

ceramic couples hold group wedding

I had a valentine's event called "HEARTSPEAK" in my studio this past saturday (you can see the remaining works here). The whole affair was supervised by my collection of forever-together ceramic couples who were taking part in a group ceremony. One of my grooms had lost an arm, and the best man turned out to be a penguin...but other than that, I think the whole arrangement was a fitting tribute to love and betrothal. I am not certain how the tiny bowling pin and looming canine fit in, but sometimes, ours is not to question. Love works in mysterious ways.

Taffeta

In one of my many vintage etiquette books (Margery Wilson's Pocket Book of Etiquette, 1941) Margery writes that "the thin woman has a great friend in taffeta". Now, why an etiquette book should be concerning itself with the size and fabric compatibilities of a woman's body and not adhering strictly to matters of decorum is the subject of another book, one that I am working on. But since she has, and since I happen to own a taffeta dress, and since I was seen making rather a spectacle of myself wearing it just last night at the Port Theatre in Nanaimo where I was performing my Charm, Beauty and Poise show, I thought it fitting that I picture it here, hanging in Dressing Room A, waiting for me to put it on. There was no star over the door of Dressing Room A, no champagne on ice, no post-performance flowers flooding in, but I have to admit I was a little thrilled to have a room of my own.

And though I am not particularly thin, I know what Margery means. I love my red taffeta dress and consider her a great friend even if she never picks up the tab. But perhaps what is most exciting for me as regards this taffeta dress is when I tuck my vintage crinoline under it and my hemline circumference becomes a force to be reckoned with, flaring out and taking up the equivalent of a small parking space.

This is when I feel the true power of taffeta.

Rare sighting of four-legged turkey

There has been a sighting of the extremely rare and elusive four-legged wild turkey. The bird was spotted today on the property of S. Norgate of Gabriola Island BC, Canada. Apparently it has been making its way across the continent, sheltered by vegans and vegetarians, all part of an elaborate underground railroad aimed at protecting the bird from exploitation by American Thanksgiving enthusiasts and in particular, dark meat lovers.
The bird, who agreed to be photographed on condition of anonymity, had no comment.

Why did the corvid cross the road?

This is the number one canvas completed as part of a series of twelve which are destined for a three-person show at Canada House Gallery opening on June 12th. That's a lot of numbers I realize. 1, 12, 3 and then 12 again.

I love birds. Some days my affection for birds rivals that of my love for dogs. The two species each have their areas of expertise. Birds specialize in singing, dazzling beak work, and of course, flight. Dogs on the other hand, specialize in sticks, loyalty and bad breath. I should clarify that bad breath is not a given. It depends on the dog and the agility of its guardian(s). For example, my sister and her partner have two rescued greyhounds named Albert and Ruby. They are small horses really. The jaws and teeth on these dogs are so expansive, and the dogs so willing, that my sister and her partner are able to lift their sizable cheek flaps (the dogs' I mean) and insert a fully operational electric toothbrush. This would not be possible for me because my dog Rosie's teeth are microscopic and her mouth opens only wide enough to allow in the smallest of biscuits. Besides, she believes that personal grooming devices are wasted on her and my efforts should instead be focused on preparing her next meal.
Which brings me back to birds. I wonder if they have bad breath? I've never been allowed close enough to be able to tell. Even if they did, I could forgive them anything in exchange for their song.