Mom DROPS THINGS

We hope that mom doesn't really work here because nothing good can come from it...except...droppage.
Every morning we suck her hot coffee up off the floor through the carpet, it's like THAT, y'all...seriously.

We Inspire Ourselves

What mom looks at to keep working when S.E.A.L. Team Six is blasting her eyes out from inside her head.
Why? Because we're beautiful!

The Little Table That Could, and Did

This is where the table was...and mom so happy!

If It's Not Too Much Trouble...

Would you mind signing the cards and naming them before you leave? The nice, PATIENT gallery owner set mom up with her own little table and chair (wonder if he has a kid in kindergarten?) so she could write the words on the back of the cards identifying her as the drawer of the pictures.

She was placed on the Volunteer schedule to work there although once she said, "Oh, um, I need to tell you I DROP THINGS..." so we aren't expecting a call anytime soon. Intricate hand-blown glass
art is a hallmark of Pacific Northwest artists. And Dale Chihuly not the only one!

Can't take her out. Just sit it down at a table with things to play with. Yeah, we think he figured
that out. They gonna do just fine!

Sigh,
YumYum

could we BE more professional?

It was a purely rhetorical question. Never mind.

MOM, IT'S NOT ALWAYS ABOUT YOU!

We have all been very good pigges, truly, we have. But enough is enough! Mom spent the entire weekend creating an art studio which began in the bedroom - fine with us - yet slowly flowed like a volcanic lahar (maybe not so slowly) first into her yoga mat space and THEN INTO OUR ESCAPE AREA! No, not onto our Owlie Rug playpen, but into the place we escape to when she has us tucked in a blanket and thinks we are lying there contentedly when really we are DOING VERY BAD THINGS, ESPECIALLY INVOLVING PLUGGED IN ELECTRICAL THINGYS!

NOW COVERED WITH ARTIST DETRITUS. WELL, IT BETTA BE TASTY! CUZ WE GONNA EAT IT INSTEAD OF PLUGGED IN ELECTRICAL CORDS IF SHE LEAVE IT ALL THERE LIKE A DO-DO BIRD!

NOBODY EVER ACCUSED US OF BEING GOOD! and in my case, just "small."

love,
Calvin

p.s. mom now in a coma but things went so well at the art gallery she thinks it all a dream! the owner took 25 pieces!
and is going to invest his own money in framing and printing to promote her work...hmm, something about that
50 cent frame that she actually TAPED TOGETHER ON THE BACK did not appeal to his gallery aesthetic...wonder
WHY? like the time when she was starting out as a wildlife photographer and her mentor from NEWSWEEK was in
Des Moines, IA on assignment so met her as she went to the State Wildlife Whatever to show them her wildlife photography
wrapped in a J.C. Penney bag much to his HORROR! That was the day she learned the meaning of the word: leather
presentation p.o.r.t.f.o.l.i.o. and the tape she used today was different colors! When he asked the story behind the art
she said, "um, i get real bad headaches, go into a trance, draw, and it doesn't hurt while i'm doing it." Yeah, mom,
that's promoting yourself! Boo-YA!

P.S.S. TO THE TWO MODS WITH US ONLINE THIS WEEKEND KEEPING HER FOCUSED: THANK YOU, ANGELS,
YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE, ESPECIALLY THE WEDDING PLANNER LADY, SHE KNOW WHO SHE IS! AND Ms. A, too!

Dedicated to the Original PandaPig, my first love...

This is PandaPig, who sat on the floor of Hohl Grain and Feed on Railroad Street so many years ago...
someone had just dumped him there, hair matted and filthy, full of mites, neglected, unloved, unwanted.

Nobody would've bought him. He just sat, unmoving, alone in his small cage, a prison, actually -knowing that nobody would've bought him and the people who first did couldn't care less about
him. Maybe never did. His ears were infested with mites, too, he'd been neglected so long.

He caught mom's eye, so pathetic, sad, yet a smile lurked inside somewhere...

Took him home. Chai, the Bengal Cat became his first best friend. When Chai had to move to Seattle,
I came along and PandaPig became my first best friend.

Whatever happens with our art, our attempt to finance the guinea pig sanctuary with it...and to educate
people so they know enough about us guinea pigs to only get us if they are willing to love us forever because we are far more work that might first appear...

It's all for love, for love of PandaPig, mom's first true love. And mine.

We miss you, PandaPig, we miss you every day. You were my first love, too.

love,
YumYum

Retired Schoolteacher...

...You know who you are.

Let it Roll, Let it Go, Let it Blossom, Let it Go...thanks Eric (Slowhand)

New Beginnings, from an Old Place we barely remember...so deeply Within did it sleep.

Once Upon A Time, there was a little girl with a guinea pig named "Puff" after "Puff the Magic Dragon" and she is no longer young...just still loves drawing, music, and guinea pigs. And mountains.
Dreams of a better life...less pain. More dancing. Maybe new drums. Maybe not new drums...

A fire of Joy once Burned Brightly, so long ago. We sort of remember, but not really...is this a dream?
Or has it been rekindled "Knocking on Heaven's Door"...What next?
Stop asking: What Next.
Learn what the Moment wants to Gift us. That's why they call it "The Present."

Houston, We Have LESS of a Problem...

"Layla" whoever you are: thank you. She finally got started...
and special  SHOUT OUT to MariFUN, our wedding planner.
(She must be Layla!)

CALLING ALL ERICS!

WHO IS "LAYLA" AND WHY DOES MOM GO CRAZY WHEN SHE HEARS IT?

CLAPTON TO BLEHM:   MATE, DON'T THINK THAT'S AN AIR GUITAR...LOOKS LIKE A BABY TO ME...JUST SAYIN'...

"BELLBOTTOM BLUES MAKIN' US ALL CRY!"
We are all suffering here. Mom cannot wake up and focus on organizing 15 years of art for the gallery...
TOMORROW! When coffee didn't work she turned to Eric, as always. Eric is always there for her. Ya, she was a rocker back in the day, a drummer, so now we are napping to Clapton, Cream, Blind Faith...nice lullabies. Nice mom.
She even playin' air drums...
Which we wouldn't mind.
Except one block a way is a music store.
They sell real drumsticks.
They also sell real drums.
One minute planning a guinea pig wedding, now...
DRUMS, mom? Seriously?
At this point we'll take any Eric we can find!
for we may be doomed...

p.s. who The Who? should we worry?

WHAT GOIN' ON?

Why our apartment so messy? Mom says: "This is for you, my darling Pigulas" but she doesn't let us roam and rummage through the mess uncovering savory photographs, drawings, and things to nibble, so we doubt her declarations of self-righteous justification...the woman simply don't do no housework; but in the past has always allowed us to "help" with our discriminating palates.
Now, she says, "just you wait to see the treats we gonna have at the Big Wedding,
Calvin the small:  Gonna be good enough to make you BIG!"

To which I whisper under my barrel-shaped snout: "boo-YA!"