Dennis and the feds

I want y’all to know I am NOT doing my taxes right now. Please notice the date.

Yup. Procrastinating again. (No gloating, Shelby)
Dear dear DEAR Mr. Taxman, I PROMISE that right after I post this, I will definitely tackle finding all those scattered notices and W-whatnots and receipts and stuff and get them all sorted and parceled out and jammed into proper little piles of regimented columns in the tax program so that I can file for an extension and send a bunch of money to you which always makes me wonder why I don’t just file the bloody tax return for heavens sake because it’s not like I […]

The suspense is kilning me

Apologies for the pun. When it gets that bad, you know the glassist is kilnless.

Try saying “glassist is kilnless” five times, very fast. Probably not survivable.

Neither, according to my fevered brain, is not having a working kiln in the house. First time in more than 15 years and, naturally, the number of just-gotta-do-it-right-NOW projects has reached an all-time high. […]




life, food, stuff like that

  • wheatglow

Unstaff of life

Bread–leavened or unleavened–is a staple food in nearly every part […]

  • dog-sheepdogs


“At bird shows, you look up,” he said, pointing up to rafters filled with imaginary avian escapees.

“At dog shows? You look DOWN!” And everyone chuckled.
I didn’t get the joke until later, when I narrowly avoided a fresh canine surprise–eeeuw!–while trying to retain my dignity by not saying stuff like “uzzums wuzzums GOOD BOY, uzzums wuzzums DOGGIE?” to every furry face I saw.

Mom and I were at the Rose City Classic Dog Show, drowning in dogfur. It’s a kind of three-ring circus of dog shows, one of the bigger in the western US, with a craft fair, a bunch of different dog breeder shows, and heaven knows what else going on for blocks and blocks and blocks.


  • hazelnuttoffee

Salted hazelnut toffee with chocolate

My friend Carol will tell you I am NOT a cook, and she’s right. Cooks invent new ways to turn daily caloric input into stuff I only dream about (unless Carol invites me over for dinner, because Carol is a cook).

Me, I’m a food geek. I could care less about daily meals, but give me a challenge, or slip some fascinating cookery science my way, and I’m on it. And, usually, a new recipe is the result. This time: Salted hazelnut toffee with chocolate, which is pretty daggone tasty if I do say so myself.


  • god-of-adventure

Me and the god of adventure

"Your burglar alarm company just called; your house is on fire," Mom said on my mobile phone...just as my flight was boarding. Sigh. It's been a busy week, and it's only Monday. Been doing my usual 72 things at once: Houseful of guests (the incredible glass artist and lovely person Carol Carson, with her equally lovely sister and daughter). My sister's in town from DC, staying with my folks. My plane lands back in Glassland four hours before the party I'm throwing for Carol on Wednesday (y'all come!). I'm getting ready for a sculpture show this weekend. The antmind decided that BigBoy, my ginormous old Dell desktop, was a perfect place to raise the kids. You know, I think there's a god of adventure sitting in an office somewhere, and everytime he gets bored he types my name, hits the send button...and here we go again.
  • byebob

Bob bites the big one

(And no, I don’t mean you, Mr. Heath!)

Bob-the-blowdryer died a fiery death on Wednesday. I laid him to rest (in the trash can) and… mourned. Slightly.

Maybe I should explain.


  • babica-sign

Babica Hen Cafe

Babica Hen Cafe
Location: Dundee, OR
Price to brunch two: $35 or […]


1104, 2015

Dennis and the feds

April 11th, 2015|2 Comments

I want y’all to know I am NOT doing my taxes right now. Please notice the date.

Yup. Procrastinating again. (No gloating, Shelby)
Dear dear DEAR Mr. […]

1303, 2015


March 13th, 2015|3 Comments

“I wouldn’t exactly call that SUBTLE,” Markie said doubtfully.

“Blue. Subtle. Exactly,” I said firmly, so she set to work. By noon, the fading green stripe on my head had been joined by a SUBTLE navy blue fringe peeking out from under my ears.

OK, maybe it’s not all that subtle. Maybe it looks as if I mummified my body in plastic wrap, all the way up to my nose, then carefully carefully carefully tippytoed into a vat of navy blue dye, and stood there until it completely soaked just the underside of the lower reaches of my oh-so-traditional bob.*