Walking backwards, looking ahead.

Well, hello, you Sweaty Horde of Screaming Fainting Groupies, throwing your panties at me like Tom Jones fans. All two of you. Hello, hello. Have a seat. Here, have some tea. Oh - oh...here are your panties back. I have my own, thank you.

First things first. I am very sad and offer a profound salute to my favorite blogger Cat of all time, the beloved Estorbo, who passed away on November 16th last. This rooftop garden cat made me laugh and cry. The news of his passing sent shivers up and down my spine and rendered me speechless. Although I never met Don Estorbo, I felt he was part of my life, because one of my blogger friends, my precious B, is his aunt-in-law. I weep wih her and Estorbo's loving Wooman and Smoothman as we say goodbye to the gorgeousest, magnificientest, larger-than life plus attachant des Blag Cad. Tu nous manques, Storbito. Dayeeen, dayoud. I wish I had a more fitting tribute. Eep. Eeeeeep.

Click here or on Estorbo in the menu on the left, under 'Mademoiselle follows', to get a glimpse into this matou majestueux's world, translated by Marie, the Wooman.

So - I'm not going to explain my absence from this creative writing venture which is my blog. A dear friend told me to come back, so here I am. Turns out I needed this, and my friend did not even know it. I will not call this divine intervention, as God and I have had our differences in the past (believe it or not, we once were buddies, looooong ago) and I don't agree with His divine design. But that's okay, we're still sorta buddies and leave each other alone. Although we speak through mediators occasionally. Anyhoo.

Actually, I've changed my mind about the explanation. I won't bore you with the whole shebang - here's the abstract (you can skip this paragraph altogether if you so desire - it's boring shit anyway...oh - and you can skip paragraph six as well, while we're at it).

So. I was let go in the Spring, left to fall flat on my back from a metaphorical fifty-story building, still gazing lovingly into the bottomless-pool-eyes of the man who doesn't love me anymore as I plummeted to the ground smiling. And I am still reeling, months later, from the shock. I feel broken. I probably am not. The silver lining in all this: I've seen in the far distance, beyond the mountains and the canyons. There seem to be tiny flashes of some kind of light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, but I am still searching my pockets for the map and my flashlight. I'll get there eventually. But for now, these are dark times. There. All is said. Now - on to other things.

It's Saturday. I am sitting uncomfortably at the kitchen table, the laptop is too high and my chairs are hard and offer no support whatsoever. Let me get the ergonomic chair. Hang on. Ah - much better. 

Olive (my seven-month old puppy, seen below) is circling around the apartment, looking to destroy things and generally being unpleasant because I am not completely paying attention to her. She's a baby, she requires attention and caring and constant supervision and care. I am not an adequate parent/master/pack leader for this adorable, demanding, cuddly demon-child. I am a cat person. But that's another ball o'wax altogether... 

I am your greedy demon-child. Care for me. I am the cutest ever. Look.

Christmas music is playing, and I'm even having the customary Saturday afternoon glass of wine, to get the creative juices flowing. My universe-renowned cretons are cooking on the stove top, it smells really, really yummy in here. I've pulled out the paint chest from one of the seven dwarf-doors in my tiny apartment. Quick note: these doors baffle and amaze me. These doors, which are about four feet high, open to reveal 'compartments' that line the walls, like hidden passageways. If you are four feet tall or smaller and less than two feet wide, you can actually walk from one corner of the kitchen to another between the walls unharmed. Pretty nifty storage. There are three dwarf-doors in the kitchen, one in the bedroom, two in the living room and one in the bathroom. I've been playing with the idea of making door signs and postboxes for each of them. But anyway. I'm trying to keep a grip, here. 

I bought supplies at Michaels two weeks ago, to make Squibbit plant companions. Here's the 1-inch version, made a few years back:

Now - this one, he's sideways, so you can't really see him. But basically, they are my creation, although full credit for the name is due with much reverence to K, my artisty, loopy lovey friend who lives waaaaay to far in Toronto. I miss her.

Squibbits, you should know, live in nature, generally. At least that's what I sense. Don't worry - I'm not off my rocker, they don't actually talk to me and I don't see them hopping around the house with their skinny limbs of wire and pearl-tipped antennae. I've still got a grip on reality. Sort of ;) These little guys have been with me ever since, about ten years back, they suddenly appeared out of the tip of my markers as K and I were doodling one evening. 

I didn't quite know what was happening - they were hanging off a clothesline, upside-down in some cases, and they were just staring back at me, completely innocent, harmless, and somehow, somehow...deeply connected to my very core. They are part of my life, I draw them everywhere, and they are copyright, because I am afraid someone will steal them. Just putting a picture up here makes me all tingly and stressed out. At least I've got the legal disclaimer at the left of this window. Look - seriously, whoever you are - they are our Squibbits, mine and K's, and they are protected by law. Back off with your filthy black stealing hands, you stealer thief burglar.

This one, above, sideways, is a bit dusty. He lives in one of the plants at my sister's, two and a half hours away. His big brother, to be adopted at Christmas this year, is two inches across. Bigger. Since I'm kinda broke, I've decided to make gifts instead of buying them. So everyone in the family will be getting Squibbit plant companions this year. I'll even make one for myself.

I'll be taking pictures of the progress in making the Squibbits. I'll post them later.

A quick hello and big hug to my life-long friend who made me come back here. You know who you are, you Home Depot card, Swedish-talking, Shakespeare-quoting being. Thank you, this feels good. And thank you for bearing with me through my on-again, off-again blogging. Would you like a Squibbit for your plants?

Never too late.

Well hello, there! 

I hear you saying: "What is this - a huge, mind-blowing comeback?" Nuh-uh. Calm down, I know you're excited. "Okay, sweet longing for writing, need to do something other than just think about it?" Getting warmer... New Year's resolution? Nope. I know. It's December 31st, 2013. I've been silent. I keep doing this, right? I publish a few posts in a row, with high suspicions that no one is reading (with all due respect to you, reading this at this very moment). I'm picking up where I left off. It was an eventful year. It's not all been good. I'll leave it at that. 

We have a very cute, very sweet addition to the family - his name is Euclide Plouf. 

 

Besides being the cutest green thing in the Universe, he is smart, funny, and gentle. His voice (yes - it's a voice) is soft: he kind of sounds like a mix between a child and a chipmunk. Best description I can come up with. Really. He only squawks when he's pissed off. He has intelligent little parrot eyes, and I swear, the way he looks at us sideways sometimes, it's like he's trying to read our minds or understands things we don't. He is a mini-parrot (a Barred Parakeet, or Toui Catherine in French), and we've had him since the end of August. Hypothetically, his birthday is June 2. That means he'll be seven months on January 2. He used to live in a great big house my hubby (I shall henceforth occasionally refer to him as The Monkey) built for him. It is gorgeous. All wood, no nails, no screws.

Birch, pine, a little bit of wood glue and a lot of patience. My boyfriend built in two side shelves, outside the cage, just for greenery. Originally, we wanted to have a mini bamboo forest on the bottom shelf (on the left) and a betta fish on the top shelf (on the right).

However, little parrots with sharp little parrot beaks love to gnaw and bite on things, which we were told this specific little guy was not inclined to do. Well. He's eaten through four bars so far, effectively opening back doors to his home and undertaking his very own renovation projects, which in itself was not really a problem. There is one problem, though: this bird, sadly, does not fly. His flight feathers were cut off before he ever learned how to, and although these feathers eventually do grow back, the reflexes are just not there. I mean, he flaps his wings and kind of floats off for a few moments, then plunges to the floor and hurts his chest. He is an excellent climber, though - quite the acrobat! He has launched himself off the four-foot high cage once too many times. It's too high for him. So he's now moved into a temporary home, as we will build him a nice one out of wood and metal this summer. In the meantime, this is the temporary setup.

A la cucaracha, a la cucaracha, ya no puede caminar...porque no tiene, porque la falta, una pata pa' caminar...(or something which sounds like that, anyhoo.)

 In this picture, he is attentively listening to his favorite tune, La Cucaracha, sung in Spanish by my man. The day we welcomed Euclide in our home, he was understandably very nervous (as were we). As The Monkey started singing the song, this feathered cutie fell asleep. So it became his theme song, and the only way we know to calm him. Life lesson to me when it comes to parrots: they are not cats. I've still got some learning to do. Lots of it. 

Alright, folks. Go make the food for the New Year's bash. That's what I'm about to do. Oh - and nice to see you again. I've missed you. See you next year.

Infinite Possibilities.

What? Have I done it again? I truly am sorry. I lose interest, then I come back. This usually coincides with creative cycles (whatever those are) in my life.

Anyway, enough rambling, here I am (tada!).

My readers, all eighty-three thousand one hundred and four of them, must have all gone astray. They have vanished. I am sitting in this big white room full of echo. Good. Finally some privacy.

Only Little Person Living Inside My Head is still here, and she is safely tucked away in her little condo, which I have built entirely out of bamboo, banana leaves and beach rocks. She is currently sleeping. So I'll whisper, now, if you don't mind. I'll whisper to myself.

So - I'm stuck. Maybe that's why I came here. I have choices to make, and no idea where to start. We're painting the new abode, which I am sharing with my husband (yeah, I know, right?) and we have settled on a very nice, calm but happy green for the dining room. But now, I am looking and looking and lifting rocks to look under them and shuffling aside pages and pages of the internet...to no avail. Nowhere to be found is the "zap" of sudden unadulterated inspiration which makes me rush to the store to get that colour. Where are my colours?

Benefits of Having Too Much Time on Your Hands When You live Alone with Two Cats and an Obnoxious Cyclops Pink Dog Doll.

Greetings, you bunch of Cutesy-Pies,

You must concur - that was the longest blog post title ever. Love it, right? Me too. It is way past my bed time, and I cannot sleep, so I figured “what the heck – I’ll show them what I am thinking of working on tomorrow because I need a project and I’ve been putting this off for way too long”. Intrigued? Good. So am I (glad we agree on so many things, things are looking good between you and I. Maybe we should take this to the next level). Let’s see where this takes us.

Months ago, on a bright, sunny, awesome day on the south shore with my Most Loverly V, I ordered (well – she ordered) some fabric off eBay. A quick look, shall we?

Yum, right?  I think so, anyway. So I was ready to commit to a long project, go figure, and I decided quilting would be it. I actually thought of hand-quilting, but then I remembered only my sister has this kind of patience and goddammit, I have a sewing machine, so for my first quilting project, it would have to suffice. So here I am, almost a year later, and these one hundred and twenty-six squares of fabric have been sitting all alone in one of my craft drawers, silently moping and hoping one day, I would fondle them and assemble them into one crazy, awesome united entity, My First Quilt. Since I live in quite the confined quarters, my craft drawers are in my room, and I swear I could hear them scream at me at night. They would bellow at me from the fourth drawer, and although muffled, their yelps sounded awful. The drawers they live in are see-through, too. So in visual terms, it looked like this (can’t you just see them scream?):

 Then this guy (who lives on my bed between two striped cushions during the daytime, but totally gets his ass hauled to a pile in the corner of the room during the night, because he would just bite my ears off, I swear) started sniggering and generally projecting an unpleasant vibe:

So that was it. Tonight, I got home after a yummy Mexican dinner out and decided it was time I kicked myself in the ass and did something about the nocturnal fabric screams (wow – that would sound so wrong in another context). So out of the plastic drawers the yummy fabric squares came.

Tomorrow, I will :

1. Wake up too early as per usual on Saturday mornings;
2. Remember it is Saturday;
3. Yawn, smile, yawn again for good measure;
4. Fall back asleep;
5. Wake up again about five minutes later;
6. Get up, make coffee and have breakfast but keep my jammies on instead of getting ready for work;
7. Maybe go for a shower, maybe not;
8. Set up some sweet tunes;
9. Open the windows and curtains even if it’s going to rain;
10. ...and whip out the ironing board, the straight pins and my sewing machine, and I am totally officially starting My First Quilt.

I am scared. But I promise I will post progress pictures. I am accountable now, as I have committed to you, my Rainy Day Ghouls. You Lucky Bastards. ;)

Princess Stuff.

Appreciated Homies,

Today, after the Weird Dialogue with Little Person Living Inside My Head (I swear I still have not lost my marbles), is a cute princess crafts session. My niece’s birthday, the youngest one who is turning three,  is on the 18^th, and so this coming weekend, there is a birthday party going on. I’ve decided to make little Princess packages for all four girls, my two nieces and their two cousins. Pictures for you, My Loverlies. How happy are you, right?

The Materials for the crafting. From left to right, in the front row (like this is a Prom picture): princess stickers, glitter which looks like strings of diamonds, silver sticky letters, acrylic paint in bubblegum pink, eucalyptus green, powder blue and straw yellow (all Ceramcoat),yellow and white ribbons and silk paper for wrapping, a gift bag for the Birthday Girl's present and paper mâché hearts, in their raw, brown form. In the background, from left to right, my paint box on top of which rest two of the paper mâché hearts which I have already painted, a case of Corona (which has nothing to do with this post - ahem), and the noodle boxes I got to put the Princess heart-shaped boxes in (why am I reminded of a Nirvana song?), nestled in green silk paper.

 Anabelle's Gift Bag, containing two books: one about Sirens and one about Imps.

 The Princess Boxes, once they are done. The noodle boxes, decorated with princess stickers on all four surfaces, are meant to nestle the four princess heart-shaped boxes, each identified with the girls' initials (from left to right, Liliane, Anabelle, Éva, and Clémence). The Princess boxes are filled with real fruit gummies. Yum.