I love my dog. Really. He's a great companion and a fine early warning system. He alerts me to bears raiding the bird feeders and Hydro meter readers requesting permission to come aboard. He lets customers' little children pat him on the head and charms their parents. He adds adventure to our walks by inventing new ways to pass me on the trail without knocking me over by running full tilt into the backs of my knees..... but why, oh why, does he have to roll in things?
Dead things, that is.
And I love my cat too, sort of. Her nickname is Hellcat so you can see why I'm a bit ambivalent here, but really I'm pretty attached to her. She's the aloof kind, so it pleases me that she seems to like me, too. Sometimes when I feel a bit dented by some experience or other, usually involving people, I think, "Well, at least my cat likes me" and it helps. But does she have to drag things into the Studio?
Alive things, that is.
So this afternoon I chased an angry chipmunk all around the Studio until it finally leapt out through the window and escaped. Never mind the screen, it had a hole in it anyway.
Than I washed Kip with soap and the garden hose. Took half an hour and he's not coming in until he's dry.
After that I got out a really weird glaze I have and sloshed it all over a bonsai pot I have been working on. This glaze (and I have no idea what is in it, it's been around the Studio for years and there is only a small bucketful left) fires up a mottled grey/green/blue. Really. But it has to go on unevenly or else you just get plain grey. I brushed it on with a house-painting brush! Nice and blotchy. It'll go in the kiln tomorrow and come out Friday, and I promise, no matter how bad it is, I'll post a picture.
Dead or alive..