Every summer we’d go visit my grandma’s farm. She always had special summer pets for us to play with. Some years it was rabbits, while other years we just made do with barn cats, but there were always dogs to love, and cows to tend. (I used to steal the hairbrush from my mother’s purse, and try to brush the shit out of the cow’s tails in an effort to make them look like the fancy show cows I’d seen in my grandma’s calendars). The shit was hard to brush out, but sometimes I liked to pretend I was a professional cow groomer, intent on filling a wall full of first place blue ribbons.

Anyway, one summer in particular, we got a goat. His name was Star. On Sundays, we’d get dressed up and my grandma would take us to church. It was her thing, and it was always nice to see her in one of her nice flowery dresses, instead of her usual pale aqua blue zip front barn dress. (I don’t think she owned a pair of trousers. She was good like that). I paid particularly close attention to one sermon about sacrifices, Abraham, and the sacrifice he was asked to make. A few days later, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, as it was awfully troubling. I wondered, ‘What if God wanted me to sacrifice my goat?’ I wasn’t sure what I would do. So, I decided to pretend that God really asked…

After the imaginary order had come down, I wrapped my arms around all four legs of my beloved goat, and carried him half way down the old gravel road toward the church. I suddenly knew in my heart of hearts that I would never be able to make this sacrifice, so God would just have to understand, and he would have to be disappointed. I returned to the farm with tear soaked cheeks, and fed the goat the pretty little clover wreath I’d made for his head. (I must have seen it in an illustration, the proper way to sacrifice a critter. You gotta make sure it looks pretty for when it goes to meet the Lord).

In the days that followed, I became even more troubled, believing I was now likely to be cast into the fires of hell, for my inability to please God, and do as he’d asked. (Not that he’d asked, mind you, because he hadn’t). No. I had brought this upon myself for simply imagining. As God knows everything that’s in our hearts, he now knew for certain that it was not in my heart to obey, nor comply with his wishes, no matter that the the wishes were imaginary. I had screwed myself, and I was so concerned (with my terrible fear of fire, and intense dislike of the heat), that I asked my mother one question. I asked if someone was sent to burn in hell, and they became too uncomfortable, and got too hot, would the devil let them take a break? She said definitely not. There are no breaks from an eternal lake of fire. That’s why it’s called an eternal lake of fire. Never ending suffering does not allow for any time outs, so I have been acclimatizing myself to warmer temperatures ever since.

I don’t suppose there’s a point to my story, except a realization that I might have wasted my talent for imagining. Perhaps I should have been an actor, as I’d have likely been a good one. I’d have obviously been one of those ‘method’ kind, and don’t they always get the Oscar? My imaginings seem to have gotten me into God’s bad books, while actors get rewarded. Sometimes I like to pretend my whole life is a movie, and when it’s over, I’ll get an Oscar too…

(Though, now I’m suddenly wondering about the wisdom in testing yourself, and coming to know your own heart and mind… For if you do)…

Nah! Who am I kidding… Sometimes I like to pretend the 100 year old birds in my collection aren’t really dead, but locked in a strange avian coma… And they can also all hear all my thoughts…

I shall now go and contemplate the ramifications of this scenario, while I also anticipate the upcoming release of Carolyn Mark’s new album. (Sometimes I like to pretend she let me sing background vocals on one of her songs). Oh, wait! That happened!

And I can now die happy !!!

And, the Oscar goes to…

Thank you to the lovely and talented Miss Nicole Steen for including me, and for always being so active in the world of art. (She’s a great artist, and amazing singer).
(You can hear her music here)…

http://itunes.apple.com/album/coal/id496875490

A class at Simply French is a super fun thing to do if you have the time. You won’t be sorry, (especially if you’ve got an upcoming hair appointment, as I will help you determine, as a certified expert, how well you paid attention, and how well you executed the special recipe)… This is just a thought. (Just a thought = new angle for me to operate from, because I’m getting more clever… From my smart food intake, obviously).

The only problem you may encounter is that you will want to see these macarons made in every flavour known to mankind. Isobel made a batch of blueberry after weeks of me pestering her, and let me tell you, if a ship full of pirates landed up on shore, and demanded you hand over your own mother, you’d hand her over for a batch of the pale purple delights. (But, if you take a class, you can make your own, and save your mother, as God only knows, pirates rarely have good intentions).

Happy Monday! xo

VALENTINE’S DAY is upon us, so I made a shiny new music video in celebration of this, my favorite of all days!! It’s the Post Apocalyptic Valentine Song. I’ve always been a fan of Valentine’s Day, for the cute cards we handed out as children, the heart shaped cookies, the puppies and kittens, bleeding hearts, and the whole colour scheme in general!

And, remember… Romance, schmomance! True love comes from within. You don’t need a ‘significant other’ to enjoy Feb. 14th, you just need a song in your heart, a bounce in your step, and a twinkle in your eye… Oh, and cookies! Also, you should pet a dog… (A cat will do if that’s all you can find). Teehehe!! ♥ Oh! And, please wear pink and red. (Together)! Happy Valentine’s Day, everybody!

This little video features dead things, a little bit of me, and a singing dog. I hope you like it!!

Merry Christmas to all!