Twas the day before Christmas....

Now that the surprise-spoiling danger is all but over and my family has more pressing and urgent activities than web-surfing (read: jigsaw puzzle and butter tarts, critical stuff!!), I can share projects. Some of the photos are abysmally poor due to lighting conditions and operating in stealth mode. Such is the lot when you work in darkness and have to get things wrapped before light returns again....

Treeskirt for Sister to match the birdies for her birthday.

I based it on two I've seen though I didn't really follow either. CrazyMomQuilts did a wonderful tutorial and TallGrassPrairieStudios had lovely tree blocks to inspire me (in the sidebar). I preferred my trunk running behind and made myself a little crazy matching the trunk position in the from strip to strip....

Two pairs of hand-knit socks - one for Mum and one for Sister. The herringbone pattern was slightly more time consuming but very satisfying. Free pattern on Ravelry - link is here.

Nigella Yoga bag for Sister - Amy Butler pattern (free). Turned out so well, I'm likely going to make another for me one of these days....

And there was one other project - some felted pillows for Mum that I had been working at off and on for a few months. But I was so very tired of dark photos that I will click them tomorrow after she opens them....

There are no hand-mades for the menfolk. :-( But there are snowball guns under the tree so I imagine there will be handmade fun and much merry mayhem tomorrow!!

To all that celebrate it, Merry Christmas! If you are not of the Christmas persuasion, enjoy your long weekend! I wish you goodness and warmth, health and prosperity, and the glow that comes from experiencing simple pleasures in life (or from a glass or two of wine!)

Peace and blessings!

Another friendly family competition...

Candy and cookies and icing - oh my!!

This is what happens when Sister buys gingerbread kits, sends us out for bulk candy, and we have a few hours to visit. Team M, Team H and Team Carly. We're not really competitive but there may have been some idea-defense strategies in place, serious architectural debates and some creative use of fruit leather....

Another afternoon of good clean fun.

Team M:

Note the fruit leather chimney complete with twist-tie smoke....

Team H:

Fruit leather bricks on the path.... Sister was displeased that the kit did NOT contain pieces for a three-dimensional chimney. She promptly stole Dad's chimney and dissected the gingerbread man in order to create the other two sides. (Oooohhhh nOooooo, not the gumdrop buttons!!!)

Team Carly:

A license plate (HOH OHO), taillights and a Chev logo. Inside joke here - the cookies were attached to each other and when I went to separate them, they got a bit crushed. So I made a remark about how I must have been driving. Hence the Chev logo. No winners were declared but I think it's pretty obvious, don't you?? Heehee.

Nostalgia ran amuck this weekend. And in days of yore, when one of the women in our large bunch of matriarchs was making buns, we children were given a chunk of dough in order to make a BunMan. It took us many years to learn that finer details were obscured by the final rise but we tried, time and again, to convey the true essence of our creations. This time, I skipped the raisin face.

Look like anyone you know?

Canadian Christmas Cookie Recipe

A few weeks ago, my mother participated in one of those email recipe exchanges....

This was one of the recipes she received in return! Enjoy!!

Christmas Cookie Recipe

1 cup of water
1 tsp baking soda
1 cup of sugar
1 tsp salt
1 cup of brown sugar
Lemon juice
4 large eggs
1 cup nuts
2 cups of dried fruit
1 bottle Crown Royal Whiskey


- Sample the Crown Royal to check quality.

- Take a large bowl, check the Crown Royal again, to be sure it is of the
highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.

- Turn on the electric mixer...Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy
bowl.

- Add one teaspoon of sugar...Beat again.

- At this point it's best to make sure the Crown Royal is still OK, try
another cup.. just in case.

- Turn off the mixer thingy.

- Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.

- Pick the frigging fruit off floor...

- Mix on the turner.

- If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers just pry it loose with a
dewscriver.

- Sample the Crown Royal to check for tonsisticity.

- Next, sift two cups of salt, or something.... who giveshz a sheet.

- Check the Crown Royal.

- Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.

- Add one table.

- Add a spoon of ar, or somefink.... whatever you can find.

- Greash the oven.

- Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.

- Don't forget to beat off the turner.

- Finally, throw the bowl through the window.

- Finish the bottle of Crown Royal.

- Make sure to put the stove in the dishwasher.

Cherry Mistmas

Listen and learn, Grasshopper

I had a meeting yesterday and now that it seems things are rolling in the right direction, I'm inclined to share.

I am headed back to school and getting my Bachelor of Education degree.

I want to teach. I want to inspire. I want to be inspired. I want to be surrounded everyday by opportunities to learn and to help others find those moments. I want to be a positive influence. I want to see through as many eyes as possible. I want to be kept young and made to feel old at the same time.

I am passionate, driven, motivated, and patient. I am able to command attention. (Someone just choked on her coffee, right A.D?) I am contagious in my enthusiasm. I am a naive idealist. In other words, I am completely out of my mind.

It was not a decision made lightly. In fact, it has taken me ten years to do it. I needed to be sure. I needed to know that I was doing it for the right reasons. I hated those teachers that were only three years older than me who had never experienced anything beyond their own formal education. I hated those people who didn't know what they wanted or didn't really care what they did and chose teaching so they'd have summers off, people who took drama as a fine art elective because they thought it would be easy. Those people whined when it was more than putting on a silly hat and saying "doth" a lot. They still irk me. And their students deserved someone who wanted to be there, who wanted to teach them, who wanted to hear them, instead of just themselves. Being there for the wrong reasons wasn't an option for me. Teaching is a vocation. Teenagers are incredible people with incredible ideas and helping them learn how to think (not telling them, but guiding them to think for themselves) is an incredible responsibility.

Now, I have lived a bit, traveled a bit, and have been searching a whole lot. I am an actor and a writer. And I need something more. I need to feel I'm making a contribution. People find their niche in all sorts of places.

But when I made the decision on this place, I heard the click. And the support coming in has been amazing! When I tell people, they, of course, say "Good for you." Then they stop to think for a moment before adding, "You'd be a great teacher," as though, they hadn't thought about it before but it makes sense. And that's exactly what I need to believe. (If you think I'll be terrible, please don't tell me just yet.... :-)

The meeting was good - I had made sure that I had the classes I would need to get into Education before I left school - so the track to a second degree is much shorter for me come September and admission shouldn't be difficult. This time two years from now, I could be a certified teacher of Drama and English and Russian.

I could also be screaming, "Stop it. STOP IT. I don't care. Get on the bus. GET. ON. THE. BUS."

But, hey, at least I'll get summers off. :-)

Too cold to be clever with a title. :-)

That's a glance at the weather here for you. I snapped it on Tuesday just before sunset. As much as the cold can be bitter, there is something sublime about frost that lingers thickly whether the sun shines or no'.

I love the cold and frost and simple beauty of winter so I'm not really lamenting about it. I'd much rather have -30 than +30. Thirty above makes me cranky. Thirty below makes me crafty. (If the temperatures seem weird, you are suffering from Fahrenheit syndrome - think in Celsius...)

Despite the chill, we had a very large crowd for our Soaps Christmas improv show last night. Thank you to anyone who braved the weather and the humour.

Happy Hanukkah, if you celebrate it! Happy Saturday, if you don't.

I have finished a few projects this week and regretfully cannot share them. Gifts are gifts and should remain surprises. Sister only pops by every few weeks, but with my luck, if I showed off what I've made her for Christmas, she'll read it today. :-)

Thank you to AmberLee of Giver's Log for mentioning me and the shop yesterday and for the lovely compliments! You have no idea how much simple joy your blog brings to me. A giver's list of ideas is a gift in itself! (Trouble is, you find all this cool stuff that I want for me... :-) Everyone else - go check it out.

Well, after a week of getting up in the dark at a quarter after "why the hell am I awake" and then coming home in the dark, I was looking forward to a good, solid, teen-style sleep-in until the sun was shining gloriously but my eyes popped open at 8am. So I'll try to be useful and productive instead.

It's a good way to keep warm.

I Believe...

...that Sundogs are an incredibly beautiful indicator of how very cold it is even if they are incredibly difficult to photograph well...

...that the person who invented the KitchenAid stand mixer deserves the same high praise in my book as James Dyson...

...that family is one of the truly important things in life if you are lucky enough to have one or a group of people that you consider family...

...that perfectly smooth frosting should be reserved for weddings and business functions...

...that a cake baked for someone you love is twice as sweet and has half the calories...

...that Feliz Cumpleanos is way more festive than saying Happy Birthday...

...and that she who baked it has the right of first refusal on licking the spatula.

Six of one, a full dozen of the other...

Yesterday morning, I was in a hurry. I still had several little birds to hand-finish as a birthday gift for Sister before family-double-birthday-dinner-out at 5:30 (Father's is Tuesday). I had tried several times to accomplish this apparently simple task several times throughout the week and had been thwarted - yes, thwarted! - repeatedly. I thought I had them well in hand (so to speak) on Thursday night, enlisting borrowed fingers for stuffing when Sister arrives unexpectedly and there was a mad scramble to conceal the evidence and the smug and untrue accusation that I was a Survivor-watcher....

Luckily, yesterday morning, I was blessed with a solid uninterrupted hour during which to finish and package the ornaments. I mused about having a little sister and that she was getting older and that made me even older than that. I gave myself a good hard giggle when a line from The Three Amigos popped into my head: "Sew, very old one. Sew like the wind!" It was followed by Steve Martin doing his birdcall: "Caw! Caw! Lookuphere, lookuphere!" Why is that movie so very funny to me? I imagine it has to do with precious childhood and days when we were small. Sister does the best "Lookuphere" of anyone I know.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I marvelled at the time I now had to take a shower and eat my brain with a couple hours of a mindless computer game I hadn't played in ages. I could've gotten a jump on some other sewing projects for Christmas but I needed a sewing break.

Because if I'm honest, these birds kicked my ass a little bit. They looked simple enough. BUT I did learn and hone the technique for making them with almost every step. Poignant lessons such as: Small curves need short stitch length and anyone who says that a 3/4" strip can yield 1/2" bias tape is lying to you! Use the full inch. Three-quarters yields burnt fingers, blue-streaked air and semi-useless, mangled 3/4" strips of fabric scraps. A vicious horrible lie.

Like low-fat cheese. [Full body shudder complete with blecch face.]

*Pattern for birds with wings can be found on The Purl Bee. The other birds were found in Last-Minute Patchwork and Quilted Gifts - written, conveniently, by the talented Joelle Hoverson, who owns Purl, where I would like to visit provided I had some money because I KNOW I would not leave there empty-handed, even if she lies viciously about bias tape. (She has a yarn shop, too. Swoon.)

Featured on the Best of Etsy!!

That's right! My mittens were featured today on Mireio Designs with some other very awesome stuff for holiday giving! You can check it out here.

Plus, you should visit Mireio's shop, especially if you haven't finished your shopping. The acorn sachets are soooo very cute and her pillows are the jam. (Jam: noun - meaning: the best part of the doughnut.)

Thank you for the mention, Wende!!

The bleak month of November (which has historically been unkind to me for several years) is OVER and December is starting off with a bang: new job that I actually love, we finally have snow, my car is NOT a write-off, wonderful and supportive friends and family, and an advisor meeting booked for that good news that I haven't actually spilled about yet. :-) Soon.

And if you love free stuff, there is a plethora (yes, a plethora) of giveaways all linked at Sew Mama Sew.

Now - if you've read all that - have a fabulous Wednesday and treat yourself to: a) a dish of ice cream, b) a half-hour alone time with a good book, c) a snuggle with your favourite mammal (human/four-legged) or d) all of the above!

Someone's suffering from attention deficit...

Me: Get out of here.
My original Laptop: Pet me.
Me: Shoo!
Original laptop: I SAID ... Pet. Me.
NOW.

So close....

Going in as an underdog.

Losing by one point after a stupid illegal substitution. Dramatic until the end. He shanked the ball. We thought we had it. And then the bad guys get a do-over...

Pretty much sums up my week. :-) [Looks quietly skyward to say, "What is this? Sweepes?]

Riders - I am still proud of you. You played one hell of a game. Grey Cup or no. You'll get 'em next year.

Limbo

I found this scrawled on the sidewalk on my way through the side door into the Administration building at the University of Saskatchewan this week.

It's a little hard to read in the photograph.

15 years in Canada

$50 000 for a BA

$7 000 in immigration fees

6 residency applications

One three year marriage to my Canadian spouse

And I am left in limbo

future uncertain

status incomplete

Though I am unsure of my feelings, the impromptu poetry, this act of frustration, struck me. The weight of the word limbo. The resonance of the uncertain future. The literal action of walking on someone's efforts and its impermanence. It was important enough to someone to declare in a public place. It has meaning to them. And though I haven't experienced what the unknown author has experienced, there is worth in these words for me.

Raw honesty is easy when it's anonymous, isn't it?

The next day, I found my relationship was all but over. It's done but not closed and I find myself in a holding pattern, in limbo, my once-written future uncertain.

BUT... however uncertain, the future is still hopeful. I can hold the chalk. And I will write whatever I please. After all, I was at the Admin building for a reason - ordering my transcript from my BFA, getting things in order, paving the sidewalk.

And there is more possibility in this piece of paper than in any amount of tears washing away what was written in chalk.

And the good mail keeps on coming!

When it rains, it pours!

I snapped up this work from Juneatnoon. Last Monday. And it's here. Through customs, too. Ridiculous, right? (The shipping speed, not the work. Because it's beautiful. Even if my photograph is not.)

And a new Amy Butler pattern. But I won't be using her Love fabrics. Because I don't. Love them. They're nice enough, I guess, but they are sooooooo not me.... It'll have to wait until after the holidays, regardless, so I've got time to pick something fabulous. Probably by Amy Butler. :-)

The universe knew I needed to come home to treats this week because my car looks a little like this....

Do not wish me sympathy. It was very much my fault (after three years without so much as a speeding ticket!!). My mental capacities were diminished by the brutal violence of eight hours of video tutorials at a job I've started - but that is a factor and by no means, an excuse.

No one was injured. Minor damage to vehicles. The only thing smarting is my pride and deductible.

SO. I've poured myself a cold one (Diet Coke, that is) and am going to indulge in some jiffy cinnamon rolls while I bask in the warm glow of my beautiful postal treasures - calendars, embroidery, and the promise of future projects.

Aftah all, tomorrah is anothah day! (Cue sunrise, a swell of music, and a stubborn refusal to surrender. Which is a tad funny when you consider that failure to yield is what caused the accident.)

[Laughs. Wipes tear. Sighs.]

i heart mail

I have a thing about getting mail. Everyday there is the possibility of something wonderful. And today, it was a reality. Because I came home to this....

... from Whitney @ WhiskerGraphics.

If you would like to see an approximation of how excited I was and still am, find a five-year-old, tell him that tomorrow is his birthday and he gets to go to Disneyworld on an blue stegosaurus that is also a Transformer. (Actually, you could probably tell me the same thing to elicit that reaction. :-) Amazingly, a few months of web-logging gave me the presence of mind to grab the camera but it was agonizing not to tear into it immediately. Agonizing. (I was trained in theatre; there is a part of me that will be five-years-old for the rest of my life.)

If you haven't checked out Whitney's blog, you can find her here at Whisker Graphics, here at her etsy store, and here for her Divine Twine (seen in first photo). Not only is she talented, she's really nice.

Thank you, Whitney! I love it!

If you don't want to know the outcome of the CFL Western Final, don't read this post....

... because we're going to the Grey Cup, baby!!

Rider Nation - Sky of Blue, Sea of Green

Where to put the stitches...

Seems like a theme lately.

I've finished the top of what will be a protective runner along the top of an antique vanity. I've composed my pieces and seams in an arrangement that I like. I've selected my backing - part of an old sheet that has been in my family for years before it fell victim to my scissors as I try to make each thread of it new again. And I thought very carefully about what to put on the inside. You won't see it in the finished product but what's inside something always affects how the outside turns out. I've layered them all and now comes the question of how to stitch all the elements in place. It will either bring out the best in the top or highlight the flaws. But the stitches are what hold the whole thing together and I don't want to take that too lightly.

This isn't really about a runner. :-) It's about making my own pieces fit. About being choosy about who I am inside. About finding the right stitches to pull it all together. Or maybe I'm waxing poetic about quilting as a metaphor. A little pretension on a Saturday night hasn't killed me yet :-)

"Life has its ups and downs, " she sighed, staring at the fabric collage that had become her own existential dilemma. "What would Neitzsche say?"....

(Sorry, I just Kant help myself - heehee)

I think I've made some major life decisions this week. I'm not quite ready to share what they are yet so I'm leaving in the safety pins until I'm sure about the stitching. (Although, I can tell you right now that deciding to take pictures early enough in the day to catch natural light so my photos aren't so.... so.... what's a word that means "lame" but isn't "lame" because "lame" is a lame word?) :-)

In the world word war department, I used "disparaging" in conversation this week and was told to speak english. :-| (Please join me in a collective head shake.)

And in the small victories department, I had my first Etsy sale today. And that, like making major life decisions, feels pretty darn good.

Soothing Rhythms

Either we're expecting an insane amount of snow tomorrow or I'm (not-so) quietly losing my mind. :-)

Anxiety is not a word that enters my frame of reference often. But occasionally, that clutching feeling begins to grab in my chest. I've experienced it only a handful of times in last half dozen years... It lasts a day or two and almost always precludes a major storm system moving into the area. One of the many facets of aura in a migraneur. (I actually find it strangely fascinating ... )

It's a foreign sensation - knowing rationally that nothing is wrong and yet having your body tell you that danger is imminent, that doom is impending. To have almost no control over it. (I've heard some women describe moments in pregnancy this way, too.) Such an incredible feeling of disconnect, I want to laugh. It's as though someone has stripped my semi-logical, capable consciousness and stuffed it inside the instinctual bundle of nerves that is a skittish kitten. (Then vigorously chases said kitten with a vacuum! This is why I don't do drugs. Can you imagine? :-) And my brain goes at the incorrigible speed of anxious thought.

So I grab the cutter, plow through the fabric stash and begin to break something down to its basic elements. Cut. Sew. Cut again. Sew some more. All the little messy pieces become something else. They bond. They organize. They grow into one solid beautiful whole. Press out the wrinkles. Straighten the seams. Breathe. Feel the warm, flat, neat fabric beneath your fingers. Sensory pleasures subvert the misguided instincts to flee. Creation triumphant. Therapy in stitches.

Cut. Sew. Press. Repeat as needed.

I feel so much better now. :-)

The Shop has Opened: A Day of Photographs and Clooney

Well, after (hopefully) getting my photography sorted out and learning the technical details of etsy as I go....

I have opened up my etsy shop. ( Insert exclamations, yawns, or expressions of your choice here. I choose a "Yaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy!" in the style of one Kermit D. Frog complete with flailing arms and puppet master.)

It has been longer in coming than I had planned, what with the particularly odd couple of weeks I have had - I won't bore you with the mundanities of it all because they just aren't interesting. :-) Today, however, was devoted almost entirely to getting my little venture (venture?) up and running with a brief timeout to see The Men Who Stare At Goats. (1 [me] out of 5 of us really enjoyed it - 5 out of 5 thought it was weird.) I plan to spend the rest of the evening adding the few items I have ready to go right now.

As an aside, a preview for a movie featuring George had a woman talking to a friend about how she didn't think that way about him because he was old. All I can say is that George Clooney would have to get quite a bit older before I stopped thinking of him that way. :-) Swooney Clooney has had me since The Facts of Life....

Remembrance Day

Like most of my generation, my grandfather served during the second World War. He wrote a little about non-combat military experiences and shared a few stories about people that he'd met but anything do with the violent core of the conflict were things he never discussed. Remembrance Day was probably the most important day of the year to him and we would all agree that it was his favourite. Never was this more apparent than the year he suffered his aneurysm. The first event occurred in the summer and took away most of his memory and physical power. The second occurred late in the fall and we all braced ourselves for the worst. He hung on quietly and then on the morning of November 11th, he died. We smiled at the date despite the loss and found a little closure while we reflected on the meaning of peace.

Later that week, my aunt discovered an envelop containing more than thirty poppy pins collected year after year. At his funeral, I can't recall a single person not wearing one.

In honour of the first Great War and the armistice signed on November 11th, 1918; of the soldiers of all nations that have served before, since and currently serving; of a history we should never forget; and of my grandfather, I'd like to share the poem written by a doctor who did not survive that first world conflict. It is still recited by school children every year on this date and the reason the poppy is the symbol of Remembrance.

In Flanders Fields

Lt.Col John McCrae, MD (1872-1918), Canadian Army

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie in Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

Project pileup

It was a weekend of moving through things, progressing through stages but not actually getting to finish much. I'm working on inventory for the shop and a couple of experimental felting ideas. I began making some birthday and holiday gifts, which I can't describe here and now, but I need to adapt what I'm working on at any one given moment based on who's around and who's likely to show up - one doesn't want to set up a sewing zone only to have Giant Niece Dog come bounding through the garage door an hour later. She doesn't mean to charge but she does love her Auntie Carly and gets excited. She outweighs me now so I need to lower my centre of gravity before she gets within hugging range. :-)

Some projects, such as my photography project from last week, need to be restarted and will take up most of tomorrow morning. I'm hopefully wiser this time than last but as long as I learn something while doing it, it can't be a total waste. Right? Right?? (add determined in-denial smile here)

And other projects are just designed to keep your hands busy while you enjoy a little family time, renting a couple of movies, watching the last regular season game (#1 in the western division as of last night - Go Riders!) and rediscovering you each find the same things funny, even if it comes with poorly executed Vietnamese takeout and an "Is she really gone?" claws-clinging, eyes-wide walkabout with the cat once he's been coaxed out from under the bed. (Dash hates any day that contains Niece Dog. To him, she's worse than the vacuum or the sound of tinfoil... Who could blame him? Size-wise, if he were human, she's a Tyrannosaurus. Personality-wise, she's Barney, but without the purple or the strange robotic children.)

So I didn't finish a single project this weekend but I don't really mind. I needed to spend my time exactly the way I spent it.

I also need the soundtrack to Easy Virtue. "Sex Bomb" done 1920's-style will put a smile on my face for years.

Hope you had a great weekend, regardless of whether you finished anything!

"I wanna go outside but I want you to come with me....."

Irony:

That a song called "I Don't Feel Like Dancing" makes me want to shake it like a paint mixer.

I'm not a significant fan of disco - in fact, there are several songs that make me want to tear my eyes out with paperclips. (Okay, not literally, but they clearly inspire me to plumb the deepest depths of hyperbole!) However, when that song begins, I need to MOVE. If I'm at home, it becomes Face-making Mirror Mambo, the DustRag Disco and the Laundry Lambada. If on the road, the Stoplight Shimmy or the Train-Crossing Tango, the Seatbelt Samba or the Waist-up Waltz.

Instant mood-lifter. Like candy but with reverse results - as far as I know, you can't develop tooth decay or diabetes as a long-term consequence of too much dancing.

A delightful friend had an extra ticket to see the Cuban Music All-Stars tonight and invited me - she didn't want to be seat-dancing by herself. I mentioned that I had been doing that same thing all day and was only too happy to continue. I discovered at the concert that I have no rhythm (like the rest of the pasty, smiling Canadians that made up the audience) but we sure had a good time.

I shall dream of trumpets, bongos, and salsa. (Or disco balls and Andy Garcia... who knows?)

Do you have a bust-out trigger song?

Happy breeds Happy so Strike a Pose

I received word this morning from Whitney at Whisker Graphics that her mittens had arrived. So now I can share...

I asked Whitney for some of her favourite colours and wasn't particularly surprised by her list - if you read her blog, you would not have been surprised by it either. Graphic designers have such an eye for colour!

You can read about the arrival and Whitney's reaction HERE. The fact that my mittens inspired modeling a la Madonna pleases me to no end! She is happy which makes me happy: it is contagious and infectious so I hope they never develop a vaccine for THAT. (although, knowing Glaxo and all those other pharmaceutical giants that make a fortune off of antidepressants, I'm sure at some point, they'll try. After all, they're halfway there with their commercials - who can watch one of those without getting bummed out?? Melancholy chords and grayed out images of deeply sad people usurp your screen and then they ask if you experience any symptoms of depression....Sheesh.)

If to vogue would make you happy today, by all means, do it. Strike a Pose!! (Fight the corporate system - heehee)

In other news that would make me happy, I hope to have the CitricSugar etsy shop open by the end of the week.... :-)