My parents recently packed up from St. Louis and came to stay with us in the old farmhouse for their annual week-long visit to Richmond. We had a fabulous visit flocked by late nights on the screened in porch “solving all the problems of the world” (as my dad likes to put it).

To celebrate the momentous task (of finding my dress), the family toasted with mimosas before retiring back outside to enjoy our BFF (best friend forever), the screened in porch. Afterall, there were many more problems in the world (like reading and napping and firing up the grill) that required being solved.

P.S. Here’s a sneak peak of where the ONE and I will be wed next year…

Does anyone know if there is a boot camp for cats? If so, my brat-cat pack needs to go for some training. Since when is it okay to wake your human momma up three times in the middle of the night? I think the cats may have me in boot-camp!

SMB is out of town again and I think that may be why they have been acting up. They get extra needy when he is away and they know that I am the softie in the family and will sometimes let them sleep with me. Not this morning! After yelling at them through my sleep-deprived fog, I eventually got up and locked them in the guest bedroom. Take that, cats!

Hopefully, if I am someday blessed with children, I will not be such a meanie mommie. Kudos to all of you parents, particularly those with infants. How do you cope when your kids won’t let you sleep and you still have to get up and function at your job? Does your body eventually acclimate to being sleep-deprived and no longer crave eight hours a night? If I have less than six, I look like one of those zombies in Micael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ video.

Unfortunately, sleep has been eluding me lately, so I have been extra cranky with the naughty beasts. I’ve picked up extra hours at the day job, meaning I come in earlier and stay later. The stay later part is okay by me, but I am so NOT a morning person! I once read that most right-brained creative types are night-owls. I always get my second-wind around 10:00 p.m., so going to bed before midnight is early for me.

Does the brat-cat pack not realize that I’ve barely slept when they rattle the bedroom door and whine at 1:01 a.m., at 6:12 a.m., at 7:05 a.m.? Either they were trying to weasel an extra feeding out of me or they just wanted to sleep in my bed! The sleeping in bed with me would be fine if only they would SLEEP and not step on my head or purr like a motorboat in my ear, while drooling on my hand or kneading biscuits on my chest.

Yes, we have strange cats. So strange, in fact, that one of them has actually figured out how to open doors. So we have to lock ourselves in the bedroom at night so the little beasties don’t barrel down the door. I wish I had a video of Potter opening the french doors. I’ve watched him do it before. It’s basically a body slam coupled with the precise timing of reaching his right paw up to pull down the latch. (I just realized that my cat might be right-handed, I mean right-pawed). Apparantly they are all right-brained like me, which explains the late-night restlessness… but not their taste in beer…

Welcome HOME, cows! I look out my bedroom window and see a field of cows in our backyard. This is one of the first indications that warm weather is finally here. For some of the herd, our land is their vacation home, where they come to summer and enjoy 10 acres of fresh, sweet grass during the warm months.

In addition to the assurance the cows give that we won’t ever have to mow at least 10 acres of grass, I find it comforting to coexist with these massive, sentient creatures. They spend most of their hours, heads bent, mouths munching, ambling along, in one end, out the other. They are very efficient at what they do. EATTING. Oftentimes they tolerate me enough to hand-feed them wildflowers plucked from our yard. This, I do through the electric fence that divides our territories. OUR turf. COWS’ turf.

IT IS AMAZING HOW QUICKLY A CALF LEARNS TO STAND. FULL OF VIM AND VIGOR ALREADY, THIS LITTLE GUY WAS BORN ONLY A WEEK AGO.

I SWEAR HE IS GIVING ME THE STINK EYE. DON’T WORRY, LITTLE GUY, I WON’T EAT YOU OR YOUR FAMILY. MY DIET HAS BEEN MAMMAL-FREE FOR OVER A DECADE.

ONE OF MY FAVORITE COWS IS “BIG RED”. SHE STANDS OUT FROM THE HERD (for obvious reasons) AND BECAUSE SHE IS SUCH A NURTURER. WHEN “BIG RED” IS NOT MOTHERING HER OWN CALVES, SHE IS ASSISTING YOUNGER MOTHER COWS WITH THE REARING AND NURSING OF THEIR CALVES. SHE IS A GENTLE SOUL.

We are so blessed to have this land to share with our friends and our friend’s cows. Very blessed, indeedy.

I discovered Virginia’s motto, “Virginia is for Lovers,” to be quite true, in fact. On January 21, 2009, while sitting by the fireplace in our 100-year old farmhouse, my boyfriend of 3.5 years, asked me to marry him!

Michael and I met in May of 2005 when I decided to relocate from my hometown of St. Louis, MO to Richmond, VA. I was interested in pursuing my MFA degree and, although I had applied for the graduate program at VCU in Richmond, I hadn’t been accepted. The strange thing is that, although I was accepted into two other graduate programs (CSU and SCAD), a string of ‘meaningful coincidences’ left me with an overwhelming desire to move to Richmond instead.

I decided to move to Richmond to take undergrad classes at VCU and reapply for the graduate program later. So I contacted the then-head of the metals department, Jim Meyer, and arranged to fly to Richmond to meet with him. I was only in town for a day and a half and had to, not only set-up classes with VCU, but also, to find (and sign a lease for) the place where I would live when I moved half-way across the country.

As fate would have it, the day I met with Jim Meyer at VCU also happened to be the day of the Genesis Design competition held for VCU’s metal/jewelry students at Schwartzchild Jewelers. Jim invited me to the opening and it was there that I met Michael.

Six weeks later, I loaded all of my possessions into a medium-sized U-Haul truck, and with the help of my brother, I made the cross-country trek to Virginia. Michael and I had talked on the phone and emailed almost daily during those six weeks after we met, so when I finally arrived in Richmond at my new apartment, he was there waiting to help me carry my belongings up three flights of stairs in the mid-summer heat.

I am truly blessed to have met my life partner. And I must say, from my perspective, Virginia has definitely lived up to it’s motto: “Virginia is For Lovers.”

Here’s a pic of our wedding rings - one of a kind pieces, designed by C. James (Jim) Meyer himself.

We are getting married in Virginia on May 22, 2010!

We had a little excitement over the weekend about two weeks ago. We were hit by the first major snowstorm in Richmond in nine years. In what ultimately amounted to about 5 inches of snow and ice, the power outages and school closings were widespread.

We had just sat down to eat our homemade brocolli cheese soup on Sunday night, when the lights went out and the comforting hum of the furnace died. We live in a 100-year old farmhouse on about 30 acres of field and trees. We have a well for water that uses an electric pump and we heat with oil, which again requires electricity to work. To make a long story shorter, when the electricity goes out, all those wonderful modern-day comforts like running water, heat, and light, no longer exist!

Intensified by the darkness, the snowstorm was beautiful, enticing us to bundle up and wander in the drifts. On the walk back to the dark house, we were pelted by needles of ice rain, then shocked by the violent crack-cracking of our cedar tree, threatening to fall through our bedroom window. It was quite a tense (and shivery) evening. Needless to say, we slept in the back bedroom that night under no less than nine blankets.

The best part of the two-day power outage was being able to use our fireplace to keep the house warm. Normally, we don’t use it on ice cold nights, because it can be counter-productive with the backdraft sucking the warmth out of the rest of the house.

The worst part of the power outage was losing Sharkie, one of our tropical freshwater fish, who we adopted from our Scottish/Aussie friends before they moved back to Melbourne. Poor little Sharkie, may you Rest in Peace. It was 8 degrees outside, by the way, a record low for Richmond.

And I must admit that it did kind of suck that when the power was finally restored, our pipes had frozen and burst in the upstairs bedroom. A waterfall emerged, seeping through the ceiling onto the furniture downstairs. Luckily, my Sugar was savvy enough to suspect this may occur and he shut off the water before any real damage accumulated. I’m so lucky to have such a smart Sugar when it comes to matters of the home. Did I mention, he fixed the broken pipe, too?

The most ironic part of our ordeal was that only five days later, Richmond experienced an 80 degree heat wave! With all the thirst-quenching water from the melted snow, the daffodils bravely poked their heads out of the soil. And I bravely put on a pair of shorts for the first time this season.

So we finally managed to put in our vegetable garden this year – and what a garden it has been! We planted zuchinni, yellow squash, eggplant, cucumbers, peppers and tomatoes in the 16 x 20 space. To keep the critters out, including the many deer that graze in our backyard, we had to build a 6 foot high fence around the space.

My parents came for their annual visit just before we put in the garden. While they were with us, we enjoyed many of my mom’s wonderful home-cooked dishes. One of our favorite recipes was my mom’s ratatouille. My parents make it every summer since it is the perfect recipe to utilize an abundant harvest of veggies.

I cooked a batch of it last week and it was delicious! All of the veggie ingredients came from our garden, with the exception of the onion and the zuchinni (since the ground hogs managed to wipe ours out entirely, early in the season).

Here’s the recipe:

RATATOUILLE

1 medium eggplant, cubed
2 small or 1 large zuchinni, chopped
1 green pepper, diced
3/4 onion, chopped

Saute the ingredients on med. high in 4-5 tablespoons of olive oil. Add garlic powder, salt, pepper, and Italian seasoning to taste. While the veggies saute, cut up the equivalent of two 14.5 ounce cans of diced tomatoes. Add two packets of spenda or two tablespoons of sugar to the tomatoes. If they are especially juicy, you can add cornstarch or flower to thicken them up. Then toss the diced tomatoes into the pan and stir to heat everything together.

Bon appetit!

At long last Spring has made her great debut – tender flowers poking through the damp earth. My azaelas are ablaze with color and the catepillars are wriggling higher and higher into the trees. In the words of Robin Williams: “Spring is nature’s way of saying, “Let’s party!”

Come party with me this weekend at ARTS IN THE PARK at Byrd Park in Richmond, Virginia. I’ll be exhibiting an array of new designs at booth #386. The event is free and open to the public and takes place rain or shine on Saturday, May 3, from 11 – 6 and Sunday, May 4, from 11 – 5.

For directions and more info, visit this site: http://www.richmondartsinthepark.com/

Move over, Michael. You’ve got competition!!! This little guy has certainly stolen my heart. He’s my nephew, Joey! This photo was taken this past Christmas, during my family visit.

Since I live five states away from most of my family, I don’t get to see my little Valentine very often. So it’s quite exciting to experience his growth and development in quarterly doses.

Although Joe is three feet tall already, he’s only 20 months old. Apparantly there are some giraffe-genes in the family. Aside from my unusally long neck, I think I missed the boat on the tall genes. But not my brother, Dave. At 6′5, I’d say Joe is taking after his papa.

Last time I saw him, Joey was becoming quite interested in language. If you asked him who he was, he responded, “Doe.” And he kept leading me around the house and asking, “What’s that? What’s that? What’s that?” And then afer I had answered about twenty What’s that questions, he would smile as if to say, “I knew that already. I just wanted to see how long I could make you answer questions.” Yeah, that’s frighteningly a little reminiscent of my brother, Dave, too. Joe is like a little mini-Dave. A Dave/Joe hybrid. A Doe.

This is just too cute! I can definately relate to that cat.

November 13, 1993 to April 24, 2007

She was 13 1/2 years old and still full of spunk until the day she passed. We’re pretty sure she had a heart attack. She was a blessing for our family from the day my dad and I snuck her home. I have to say, Mom, was not too crazy about her at first (hence, the sneaking Hershey to our home)… but after only a couple of days, Hershey had won us all over. She was the best dog I could have ever wished for. She was my first dog. And she cared for her family fiercely, although she was a friend to all creatures large and small. She made us better people and brought us together during some particularly difficult years. An angel stays until the work is done. And Hershey was our angel.

My mom wrote this poem about Hershey after she passed:

HERSHEY

I’d never owned a dog before
Nor did I want a canine pet
But when a pup showed up at home
I took one look at those brown eyes
And fell in love, to my surprise.

She was so sweet and small and smart
I took her quickly to my heart
A pudgy ball of chocolate brown
So Hershey was the perfect name
Our lives would never be the same.

We taught her tricks within a day
To fetch and sit, roll over and stay
Her favorite trick was catch the stick
Or chase the ball or frisbee for a treat
Then take a well-earned nap beside our feet.

She took us for a daily stroll
Through many a park and wooded knoll
She sniffed and ran and swam with glee
And never let us stray too far away
She herded us together along the way.

Her tail wagged with every touch
She knew we loved her very much
And she returned our love ten-fold
She’d never think about running away
Being part of our pack just made her day.

As years passed by her thick brown coat
Had more white hair around the throat
Her muzzle and her steps were lighter
Arthritis got a nasty grip
And gave her pain around her hip.

We knew her dog-years measured old
But she was worth her weight in gold
So when on one bright day she lay
And breathed so heavy in the grass
We could not believe that she did pass.

So Hershey is now a fond memory
Her life was so charmed and care-free
We know her sweet soul is enjoying a stroll
In dog heaven where she patiently waits
Til our family joins her past the pearly gates.

Oh my God! I only have one week left of class! We have our final crit in 7 days! After two years of parking, I am packing up my locker.

It was a tough decision, but I decided to go ahead and cut the apron strings between myself and the amazing metals studio at VCU. I’ve been taking metals/jewelry classes there since I relocated to Richmond. Now it’s time to take what I’ve learned and use it in my own studio. I won’t have all the great tools, but as G.I.Joe always said (this goes out to all you 80’s kids who know what I am talking about)… “Knowing is half the battle.”

I’m excited to take this leap and see what the rest of 2007 brings for Dream Spiral Art’s creative endeavors.

Right now Potter is curled up in my lap, purring loudly. This one is attached to me like glue. He follows me everywhere I go, even if that means entering my studio with me. He’s not too fond of the sound of metal clanking on metal, but usually he curls up in the other corner of the room, basking in the sun, while I work.

Almost one year ago, we discovered 5 little kittens in the woodpile outside of our house. We wanted to keep them all, of course, but agreed that two was a nice number, which naturally grew into three. Since we are big dorky fans, we named the 5 kittens after Harry Potter characters.

Hagrid, the orange Tabby in the pic, was adopted by our friends, Dale and Harriet. We just saw him last night. Lily, who is not in the pic, was adopted by a nice lady in Annapolis, MD. We don’t see her much, but hear she is doing well and plump as a pin-cushion. Potter, is the long-haried black with white socks and chin. Albus (Dumbledore) is the larger black and white, short-hair. Sprout is white with a couple of black spatterings. She is our baby. We had to feed her with an eyedropper when we first found her because she was the runt of the litter and couldn’t hold herself up long enough to eat.

So this is our happy little kitten family that we discovered in the woodpile outside of our house. Today is their first birthday.

I departed the icy airs of my birth city, St. Louis, on Superbowl Sunday. While most Americans huddled around their televisions, feasting on bean dip and wings, entertained by the lastest installments of creative advertisement, if not by Peyton Manning’s renowned gyrations, I pressed my face against the cold glass of the airplane window and wondered at the Full Snow Moon, in between gulps of cran-apple juice, and essays by Barbara Kingsolver.

The Full Snow Moon was named as such by the native american tribes of the north and east because the heaviest snow usually fell during that moon/month. Some tribes also referred to this moon as the Full Hunger Moon since the harsh weather conditions often made hunting and gathering difficult during February.

Whatever the name, the moon was certainly a sight to behold on February 4th – something that the flight attendant (bless her heart) was not shy to point out to the ten or so passengers aboard the flight. Sadly, not everyone shared her enthusiam for this particularly large and yellowish moon, hanging like an ornament right outside the window, and therefore, left their blinds drawn or resumed reading or napping upon discovering what the excitment was all about.

I suppose the things that we witness everyday, are those that we most easily take for granted – like the moon, the rising sun, people we love, good food in our bellies, the abilities to walk and talk. Ironic how when something is absent, it is oftentimes noticed more than when it is present.