Monday, March 3, 2014

Whhhhyyyyyyy.............?

Clearly, this is spring and I am just coping with it badly. I used my last inch of "soon it will be warm" optimism to ninja-kick the death dagger icicles that are glaring at me from my roof edge.
If one stabbed me to death, there would be no weapon to trace.
Winter is trying to kill me.
I fell down for the 7 billionth time trying to dig out my yak-track that had given up and lodged itself in the road. How do I walk the dog with just one yakker? Do I go around in circles with one foot in place, or drag my un-yakified foot along behind me like the Hunchback of Notre Dame Bay?
I've done all of the fun and festive things we do when it snows. I made angels and snowballs and tunnels and looked at the pretty frosty design on the windows. I smile stupidly at the mad and crazy people who keep telling me 'we broke the back of winter'. Is that really enough? Really? Shouldn't we  make more of an effort.... keep going until we've pulled its hamstrings, sprained at least 2 of its limbs and given it indigestion, possibly gout?

On the bright side......now that I am snow blind and have 65 new eye wrinkles from squinting so much I can get seniors discounts when shovels go on sale at Canadian Tire.
Always look at the bright, snow bright side of life.

Sunday, March 2, 2014

But Was Sir Edmund Hillary Wearing Matching Socks?

Older.
My hands decided to start growing their own personlized "camouflage gloves". Other people call them "age spots" but I believe these lovely spots will help confuse and bewildered whoever is holding the box of popcorn as my concealed appendages sneak in for another cheeky bite. If I start wearing tan-leopardy-print sweaters, I'll have my own matching glove-sweater set.
I will be trendy and co-ordinated. I will be "Jackie-Oh-No She Didn't!"
Oh yes. I did.
If I could remember to wear pants I'd be a star.
When I find two matching socks - which is often the Mount Everest of my day, I don't try to push my luck and also expect other brilliant things to happen like remembering to get the mail AND open it AND read it AND respond responsibly to correspondence.
Nope.
Sometimes we just need to stop when we reach a peak, look around and be satisfied that you got there at all.
You're not THAT old, you say. No, I am not. But I forget things that I shouldn't forget - like passwords and birthdays and what day it is. I forgot to write a blog for ....hmmm, I forget how long it is now but I thank those kind people who have reminded me to do so.
And thank you brain. After 10 minutes of hard, painful remembering it squirted and squished out my blog password like the very last bit of ketchup in the bottle. I had to shake the bottle. Hard.
And as I sit here, wearing my proud summit socks, I am still. The birds are dancing in the bush outside, the cats are rolling in the snow and the clouds are on their way to Liverpool. I am still.
Like the goats, I realize that knowing you are safe and loved and warm is enough.
They don't worry about taxes or banking, age spots, what supper will be or how long their horns are growing.
They are goats and if you stand beside them, they stand beside you.
They are are happy you are there and really, nothing could be better than that.

Friday, January 24, 2014

If I Were a Yak I Would Complain

Her: No, NO, NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Silence.
This can't be good.
I can hear Her scuffling about on the floor.
Clearly, She is investigating some sort of disaster or major infringement of The HOUSE RULES. Sherlock Homes is on the case.

Her: I KNOW YOU DID NOT DO THIS. I AM CLOSING MY EYES AND WHEN I OPEN THEM, THE MILLIONS OF TINY HOLES IN THE HARDWOOD FLOOR WILL BE GONE.

Silence. I imagine Sherlock's eyes are slowly creaking open........possibly seeing red because the Detective sounded very cross. Very cross, indeed.

Her: ARE YOU IN THE HOUSE? COME HERE IF YOU ARE! COME!

Much like a dog who has naughtily piddled on the floor, I reluctantly shuffle into the gallery hallway. My head is down, tail between my legs. I know I have been bad but I am not sure why.
Her: YOU HAVE YOUR BOOTS ON. IN THE HOUSE. WITH YOUR YAK-TRAX!!

Me: So? I had to run in to pee and then I forgot to take them off.
HER: I TOLD YOU! They have tiny nail-like cleats all over the bottom and you have made billions of holes in the hardwood floor!!!
Me: I thought there were suction cups on the bottom.

Her: WELL THEN THEY WOULD BE CALLED SQUID-TRAX AND YOU'D HAVE A PRETTY HARD TIME SUCTION CUPPING ALL OVER THE BACK YARD.

Me: WELL WHY DO THEY CALL THEM YAK-TRAX? Yaks don't have tiny nails on the bottoms of their paws!! How stupid is THAT!
Her: YAKS HAVE HOOVES!!
Me: Well, the goats have hooves but they don't have little nails things in them!
Her: NEITHER DO YAKS!
Me: WHO EVER HEARD OF ANYTHING SO RIDICULOUS AS PUTTING TINY NAILS ON THE BOTTOMS OF SHOES!
Her: OH, I DON'T KNOW......MOUNTAIN CLIMBERS, GOLFERS, SOCCER PLAYERS AND THE LIST GOES ON..........

HER: What do you have to say?
I say nothing because I am thinking about how neat it would be to have suction cups on the bottom of my shoes.
Me: I just invented something! What about swimming shoes with suction cups on them....you could walk all over the sides and bottom of a swimming pool.
Her: YES. AND YOU COULD START IN THE DEEP END.








Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Tip-toe Through the Tulips.....

She left me in the new Target Store. It is hugely huge-normous and I am not used to being left on my own with money in my wallet and no means of communication. (My itelephone has mysteriously vanished). I pushed around my giant Target wagon and placed a candle, a package of tissue paper and a new red lipstick in its belly.
It wanted more, so after I put the lipstick on top of the tissue paper so it wouldn't fall out of the holes, I found a dog bed and a package of monkey and banana stickers. A far more impressive haul.
SHE was nowhere to be seen and I was tired of chasing the man who kept whistling (She always whistles when She can't find me in a store) so I toddled through the check-out and waited by the door and tried on the new lipstick just for fun.
SHE finally appeared looking all whistled out and was clearly too Targetted to ask me where on earth I'd been.
In the car....
Me:
"Well, do you like my new lipstick?? "
I smile and make smiley-lippy faces.
"I know I never ever wear such bright colours but I loved this red!! I LOVE it! I think it's because I have been obsessed with tulips and have been painting them over and over...do you think? Do you think it's too red? Just TOO bright for me?"
(I have been suffering from a tulip-alooza all summer and have indeed been painting tulips on everything. I think I'll need some wooden shoes, too. And some dutch cheese. And a peppermill)

Me:
"I like it. I DO! It doesn't look good when my mouth isn't moving though....hmmm...what do you think? It is definitely a lipstick I should only where when I am going to be doing a lot of talking. My lips are too small for this colour if they are just staying still. Do you want some of my espresso? I went to the Starbucks while I was waiting for you! What do you think of this lipstick? Too red? Too bright?"
She looks over at me and takes away my coffee. It might have been my fifth of the day but it could have been my seventh.
Her:
"Well, I have to disagree with you there. I think the lipstick looks best when your lips aren't moving at all."

Image: Nan's Tulips by Cara - Oil on Canvas (sold)



Monday, November 18, 2013

The Higher You Reach, the Further the Sky.....

I am waiting in the car-ish.
My telephone/radio/internet/bank-machine/flashlight/calculator makes a squawk.
I try to loosen it from my frozen claw and search to see what has happened.
It seems there is a text message.
Frozen finger swipes the screen.

The text is from HER.

I CAN SEE YOUR HAND STICKING OUT OF THE SUNROOF ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE PARKING LOT. FOR THE 10 MILLIONTH TIME, YOU DO NOT GET BETTER SERVICE IF YOU HOLD THE PHONE CLOSER TO THE SKY. PUT ARM BACK IN AND CLOSE THE ROOF BEFORE A GULL TAKES YOUR PHONE OR SOMEONE CALLS AN AMBULANCE.

Frozen finger is too cold to tap back a message.......and anyways, since closing the sky-window reception is very dodgy. Indeed.

P.S. The only reason I did what She said and closed the sky-window was because I was already into the trouble. After 2 years of rarely watching television and always insisting that I change the channel when we do, She found the television remote.
Photo: Pam Dorey








Monday, July 15, 2013

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

The Icing on the Cake.....

SHE has been very good about eating the gravel (as She calls it) that I have been offering as a healthy option for snacks and so today I thought I would make her a cake. Enough of the Hemp Hearts, Chia Seeds (She insists they are sprouting from Her ears) Flax seeds and almonds....She deserves a treat. So, in between painting, cleaning and brushing 2 hairy goats, I made a cake. Followed a real-life recipe and everything. The truth. I tell it.

SHE walks into the kitchen and starts to laugh.....

Me: "OH.... Ha-ha-ha. I tried to make you a Tres Leches cake. THE RECIPE HAD 427 STEPS AND AN INGREDIENT LIST LONGER THAN MY ARM  - STOP LAUGHING!"


There is lovely Tres Leches cake everywhere. On the floor I had washed by hand just an hour earlier, on the cupboard doors and all over my shoes. And toes ( because I am wearing the buy one pair get one pair free unattractive Birkenstock sandals)
HER: Wow, your new spring form pan must work REALLY well.........

HER: Did you not have an EASY-BAKE OVEN as a child?
Me: Do you want some in a bowl, just to try it?


She pokes at the milky porridgesque mush on the plate and pulls out a cat hair.


Her: Hmmmmm, as good as it ... um.... smells, I think I'll pass - still really full from breakfast.


Me: YOU DIDN'T HAVE ANY BREAKFAST......I AM NEVER EVER MAKING YOU A CAKE AGAIN!
She is running out of the kitchen leaving giant-milky-cakey-footprints (because she is wearing the buy one pair get one pair free unattractive Birkenstock sandals) as she goes...

HER: DO YOU PROMISE?

Monday, July 8, 2013

Nanny-Nanny-Boo-Boo........


Wee Rose has started sticking her tongue out. Sometimes it is just a little poke but other times it's a full on noogy. This terribly rude and un-lady-like nonsense has got to end. Every time I tell Rose to stop butting my new pine tree she sticks her tongue out at me. If I swoosh her away from my geraniums or lovely grape-vines (I have a vineyard!!!) out comes the tongue. She squints when she does it too....just like a 7 year old bully who just laughed at you because you tripped on your high-top Muppets sneakers (don't say I deserved to be bullied....those were the coolest shoes since time began and I would have a pair now if they came in size huge). I have asked the goat doctor and consulted with The Google about Rose's new hobby and apparently it IS odd behaviour butt not entirely unherd of. Leave it to me to raise an odd goat. Next thing, she'll be giving me wedgies and stealing my milk money. I am sure, nope, positive that SHE is somehow responsible.

Friday, June 28, 2013

Do YOUR goats make goat cheese?

Since I was old enough to know that I only liked red Smarties, red liquorice, red shoes and red Kool-Aid, I have also known that I loved goats. I don't know why because I grew up in the suburbs of Toronto where every second family had a cocker spaniel named "Lady" or a collie named "Lassie".  Friday night at the dog park, when everyone was calling their dog home it was like a middle-class musical show as the dogs ran around confused and bewildered.....not even the owners were sure if they had the right Lady or Lassie and the dogs would look nervously at the owners as the owners tried to find a distinguishing mark or characteristic.
Dogs, I do love them but I love goats more. We had to get Wee Rose in a rush and I knew absolutely nothing about Pygmy goats.
Nothing.
Five minutes after Rose was home, we were feeding her raisins to keep her happy and horrors....
I hysterically yelled "Pam, they are coming right out again!" I had to steady myself.
Her eyes rolled so far She could have circumferenced the globe "I think those are just her little poops. They look like raisins. You are going to have to calm down. Rose is fine."
And she was fine.
Two minutes later, I had blood gushing down my chin because I thought that Rosie needed a kiss and a cuddle. It turns out she did, but you shouldn't kiss a goat from behind their head...they have horns.
And she was fine.
I have since learned a million interesting things about pygmy goats. Rose and Sophie have been fantastic teachers. It is fascinating watching visitors interact with the wee pygmies and I chuckle to think that I was once silly, too.

My favourite goat questions so far...................

SO.....do the goats only drink goat milk?
(Yes, we bring them 2 glasses every morning)

Can you get goat cheese straight from  the goats?
(Yes, they have a tiny kitchen prep area in their barn and in the evenings they make cheese. Sophie does all of the packaging and Rose is in charge of production and distribution)
The take-out window is open from 11am to 3pm

Do their horns come off?
(Yes, every night they take them off and wax, clean and polish them for the next day.)

Do they growl?
(Yes, they do)

Do they have claws?
(No. But Rose grew up with her cat Blanche and she thinks she does.)

Do the goats get their own hay?
(I wasn't sure what this person meant.
Do they get in the car  [Sophie would call shot-gun] and drive to the Co-Op, load up the back with Timothy hay, stop at the Tim Horton's Drive Thru on the way home for an Iced Cappuccino and  then wheel barrow the hay to the barn? No. They DO eat hay and grass in the filed behind their cottage though!)

I love all of the questions and I still ask their vet ridiculous things....but I am not shy to admit not knowing something. Especially if it has to do with goats. (Yes, I do put Baby Brand SPF 30 sunscreen on their ears on very sunny days. Cuckoo? Nope, I just couldn't find any tiny straw hats and these are the only kids I'll ever have)





Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Stuffed to the Gills!

Have I joined the Von Trapp Family singers and run away to the mounts of Austria? Did I guzzle so much wine in Positano I couldn't find my way home? Nope, none of the above (though I wouldn't say no to a goblet of Merlot and a hearty round of Doe-a-Deer)..... I am back in my beloved Upper Island Cove, painting away in the tiny blue studio and dancing jigs with the goats (whenever the mood takes them.) 
Things are almost back to normal around here after the big trip abroad and I am SO tickled to be home. Our gallery is open for the summer and crazy town is open for business.
Today.....
Ring Ring Ring! ( My attempt to be a telephone. SHE has made mine ring with "The Muppets" theme song. I do long for the days of "rings" when the phone was attached to the wall and you had to stand there whispering, while your mother screamed at you to stop twisting the cord around your arm)

Ring!Ring!Ring!

Me: Hello?
Lovely Man: Hello. I called a while ago asking if you did taxidermy.
Me: Yes, hello.... I do remember.
Lovely Man: Well, I was wondering if you do it yet?
Cheese and Crackers! Has SHE been taking secret taxidermy night classes? Has She been handing out secret taxidermy business cards with Her name and phone number on them.."Call Pam and Get Stuffed"?
Me: Taxidermy? Hmmmm... no, we still do not do taxidermy.
Lovely Man: Do you do anything like it?
My mind is racing..... what is "like" taxidermy? I make stuffed peppers. I have stuffed a turkey, a goose, a pork loin and and a salmon but those were for dinner parties not to mount over a flat screen.
Me: I am so sorry, but we really don't do anything like that at all.
Lovely Man: OK. I'll call back again later in the year. Bye.

I may not do taxidermy but I do have a sense of humour and a stiff upper lip. It is going to be a fabulous summer! Yippeee!

Monday, May 13, 2013

"The Darlings" Do Europe...Don't Bother Coming, We've Drunk All the Wine.

My Darlings and I have been touring Europe for the past three weeks and still have a week to go. 
I don't know if Europe can handle any more and I am nervous to check with the CNN when we get home. We could be headline news for any number of traffic violations, mysterious crimes and/or garbage sorting debacles. 
Salzburg (or was it Sweden?) was short on beer for several days when Pinky ordered 30 litres of draft after which we had to funicular down the mountain so Pigeon could hide in the cemetery with Maria and the Von Tramps.
We may or may not have caused a Slovenian horse to be briefly hospitalized and we are likely the only tourists in Bled to have witnessed the rarely seen "Giant Dogs" of the lake. High times.
We have eaten veal tongues and pickled leeks, 500 pizzas and 4 million olives. 
I have been up nights waiting for the carbonara (Carabinieri for those of your who prefer police to red sauce - though wouldn't it be molto bene if the police arrived WITH a tasty red sauce? Much less intimidating and far more civilized......) to arrive, pounding at the door with hand-cuffs at the ready. I am sure we are currently on Europe's Most Wanted list. When we arrived back at our car-park after we darlinged Venice, our rental car was mysteriously surrounded with red tape and messages.....the sign of a violent crime perhaps? An international search for me and SHE because we filled our purses with  the cute Nutella packets in Austria? Maybe I was not meant to keep the soft, red slippers our boutique hotel had given and they'd called out the dogs? (or Shetland ponies....it is hard to tell in Europe. Especially when the donkey's here say "eeeeee, eeeee, eeeeee!" instead of "Hee-Haw"like Canadian donkeys do)
It's hard to say what will happen next.....we are on our second week in Praiano and the villagers are getting restless. My pockets aren't big enough for all of the cute, little old men we want to take home and our suitcases runneth over with the gorgeous things. I don't think it could be possible for another human being to have more fun than I have been having but hopefully everyone can experience such joy at some point in their lives. I  do feel sadly for poor Margaret, our GPS who has spent most of her time in a drunken stupor in the trunk, desperately trying to get us to take the 4th exit to Wallersee, but you can't win 'em all. 


 Our trooper of a horse on his way to Lake Bled General Hospital.

 Veal tongues at the Hotel Triglav.
 Venice - we were merrily going along while untold crimes were being committed in the car park.
The scene of the crime.......

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

My "Yoga" pants are bored.........

We have an upcoming gallery show coming up. Busy as a potato chip salesman at a dip convention. To make matters better, we are getting ready for a trip. I will be flying. Flying gear must be obtained. After scaring the living daylights out of me for the past twenty years about the dangers of flight, this time She has me convinced that our veins simply can't take the 9 hour journey and we will pass out from the Deep Vein Thrombosis. This is called DVT. She made me watch a Marketplace-Doczone-The Nature of Things-Dragon's Den episode all about it.

We are shopping. In a mall. Something I do but once a year.

I am at the counter and ask the lovely lady my question:

Me: "HELLO. I am looking for the socks that help with diverticulitis."

Lovely Lady: "Pardon? Hmmmmmmm.....I don't think we have socks for diverticulitis."

I am frowning because I KNOW that David Suzuki Hanomansing was talking about the diverticulitis socks that keep your legs all tucked in.Tight.

SHE has overheard my question and has managed to move 20 feet in 2 seconds. Her lips have disappeared. She whispers (hisses) in my ear.... "....it is not diverticulitis! You meant to say Deep Vein Thrombosis...DVT!"

Me: "DVT.....isn't that the soy gravel we made hamburgers with the day we tried to be vegetarians?"
Her: "NO, that is TVP. Textured Vegetable Protein!"
Me: "Well, what is diverticulitis?"
Her: "It has to do with the bum!"
Me: "And you can get SOCKS for that?"
She is Pam-handling me towards the door and out of the store....clearly, I am not getting any socks for ANYTHING today.

Next store........
I am at the cash after looking at 765 pairs of black stretchy relax-itation pants. I found a pair that I accept.
Lovely Lady at Counter: "Have you been doing yoga long?"
I am horrified. My lips disappear. "Yoga" pants.
Me: "Well, I don't actually do the yoga, but I would still like to get the pants for other things. Is that okay? Not to say I will NEVER take up the yoga....I am simply not currently participating. I do know "Down Dog!" and "Hooray for the Sun!"
Her: "Oh my God, you don't have to ask if you can buy the pants.....there isn't a questionnaire. Just get them!"
Me: "Why do they call them YOGA pants then? I am not "sneaking" around in my sneakers. I am not "loafing" around in my loafers."
Her: "Are you ready to go home?"
Me: "Yes, but I didn't get the socks that will keep me from passing out."
Her: "Right now, I am willing to risk it."


Image: "Tablelands" by Cara & Pam 48" x 36" Hand-Carved/Hand-Painted


Thursday, April 4, 2013

Rick James Should Change it to "Sticky Freak".....


Image: "Mermaid Song" Birdhouse by Cara & Pam
Hand-Carved/Hand-Painted

It's final. I am going to have to join a support group for my addiction......and if that doesn't work I am sure that SHE will find a solution to my problem. 
Tape. I love it. If there's a sticky situation going on somewhere in the world, I can guarantee you I will either be the cause of it or wish I had been.
Our computer store (SHE says it is an ONLINE SHOP but it is on my computer so there it is) has been  
wonderfully busy of late and we've had to package oodles and googles of boxes. To some this would seem a chore but to me, a sticky bliss. 

HER: YOU CAN'T USE AN ENTIRE ROLL OF TAPE FOR EACH PACKAGE!

Me: WHY? 

HER: Is isn't necessary and the post office lady needs a place to put her stamp.

Me: Did she tell you this.....are you working together?

SCREEEEEEECHHHHHHHH........

I pull another round off my roll and huff and gruff to wrap it around my current cardboard victim.

HER: I can't take the noise! Where is the gun I bought you?

Me: THE TAPE ACCORDION? It doesn't work. I don't like it. It is not the same.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH..........

HER: It is a tape BANJO. Please stop.

                                                  SCREEEEEEEEEEEEECH............

HER: You really have to stop. You really have to cut down on your tape usage. We aren't sending the boxes to Outer Uganda....just to Mount Pearl or Alberta. I am going to have a T-Shirt made for you that says "I am a TAPE freak"

Me: Well that's just tacky.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH...........................................



Monday, March 11, 2013

Et Tu, BooBoo?


HER: BLAH BLAH BLAH.....Cara, you are wrong.

Me: I am going to look it up on the Google and you will see that I am right.

HER: Fine, look it up. If you are wrong, you have to give BooBoo the rest of your frozen yogurt.

Me: FINE!

google, google, google.....

I think the photo above speaks for itself.

"Hey Blanche, if you get Tall one to make a bet with the short one, you might end up getting a treat!"

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Old, Aunty Artica was a cold, cold, lady........

Giant Arctic Snowcat Ambushes Seal Colony Near Upper Island Cove, Newfoundland
"Big Island - Upper Island Cove" Oil on Canvas by Cara

ME: Did you see the weather? HUGE waves expected this afternoon....HUGE! Why do we live 3 feet from the edge of the ocean......it would be safer in Antartica.
HER: For the 7 millionth time, it's ANTARCTICA. Remember, last week you did the story about the giant Arctic snowcat...we had this conversation.
ME: That was an Artic...... this is ANTartica.
HER: Who is Aunt Artica...your long lost, chilly relative? LOOK IT UP!
ME: On the Google?
HER: YES.
ME: I still say the "C" is silent. BUT IT WON'T BE THIS AFTERNOON, will it?
silence
ME: DID YOU GET MY JOKE?
silence
A very chilly reaction to my very funny joke. SHE really IS just like Aunt Artica.



Tuesday, February 26, 2013

When I Die and they Lay Me to Restroom.....

Image: The OUTHOUSE by Cara Kansala * Oil on Canvas
(I am so desperate for a bathroom in my studio, I have taken to painting outhouses. HINT HINT)

We are upstairs in the studio. I have to pee. Again. I will have to clean my brushes, put on my boots, my coat, my hat, my scarf, go outside into the death-cold, walk by the goats, wave to the goats, go into the house, trip over 5 cats and a crate of crates and run to the bathroom. I have to pee so bad I might die. I decide to hold it. Death bladder looms.
ME: When I die, I would like you to serve chocolate chip cookies at the memorial and show funny pictures of the animals and have everyone sing that song I love.
HER: What song?
ME: The one I love. YOU KNOW, the one I love!
HER: "Copacabana" by Barry Manilow?
ME: NO, that one I love about being young! And write out the words for everyone to sing along.
HER: By hand?
ME: No, print them out. But if I wanted them written out by hand, would that be so terrible? My last request? I will have DIED!
HER: I guess not. When I die, I want not a thing. Nothing.
ME: YOU can't die before me. You CAN'T!
How will I get my chocolate chip cookie-photo-showing-crowd-sing-a-long-service?
HER: Well, I guess you'll have nothing, too.
ME: No, No, if you die first the only solution is for me to give YOU my chocolate-chip-cookie-photo-showing-crowd-sing-a-long-service. That way I can enjoy it too!
HER: And would you ENJOY it?
ME: (I let a little time pass so it seems like I am being thoughtful and contemplative).
I wouldn't enjoy it though I WOULD choke down a cookie or two. You know, just to show I cared.
So, would you put a bathroom in the studio?
HER: When?
ME: Well, before you go?
HER: Where? To the BATHROOM?
And she puts on her coat in a flurry of devilment (SHE is already wearing Her boots) and She runs to the door. SHE is beating me to the bathroom......I will never make it. Death bladder looms. I only hope She remembers what song to play.......you know, the one about being young. If I get stuck with Copacabana, just know that I was always Lola. With yellow ribbons in my hair and my dress cut down to there........


Thursday, February 14, 2013

Valentine starts with "V"


I have painter-itis, art-thritis, a-pen-disitis, collarbone-era and inkfluenza. I have been painting and drawing to beat the band. (I DID beat the band by the way. They are demanding a rematch.)
SO last weekend I was thrilled, I tell you THRILLED, that friends said they would come for lunch on Sunday. A lovely break, with cooking and laughter and sitting down at the table like civilized beings instead of running up and down the studio stairs spilling mugs of coffee while holding fuzzy-pocketed granola bars.
I made my lovely grocery list so that I could WOW our friends with my tomato and mint salad, my Tuscan Bean soup and my drunken peaches in cream.
SHE was in charge of the grocery store project while I stayed home and coaxed the hairballs down from the ceiling corners and de-fuzzified the sofa.
She came home with bags and bags of supplies and thank goodness She got home when She did because a huge storm had started. (And not just outside)
I started unpacking the groceries and bewilderment changed to fury.
Me: WHERE ARE THE TOMATOES?
HER: They didn't have any nice ones so I bought these instead. They start with "T". They are red...isn't that the same?
After consulting the Google, I found out She had purchased 15 tomatillos....a weird, fruity, seedy creature that is NOT like a tomato at all!
Me: Where are my green peppers?
HER: They didn't have any, so I got the avocados.
ME: WHERE IS THE PANCETTA?
HER: Again, they didn't have any, so I found this maple flavored bacon?
ME: OMG! What about the peaches...I don't see any...even peaches in a can?
HER:......um, they had persimmons on sale. They start with "P".
She holds up a sack, stretching under the weight of about 400 persimmons.

ME: Well, this is just great! What am I going to do? My soup will be a disaster....MAPLE Flavoured SOUP?
HER: SOUP.....well...... it will still start with "S"








Friday, February 1, 2013

What's Up Doc?


The busiest two weeks since time began just ended. Trying to fulfill orders and create our new catalogue has taken the Mickey Mouse out of us both! Rose and Sophie refused to help saying it wouldn't behoove them to assist us as they had a lot of goat business to attend to. Goats. Moreover, SHE has been extra crankified due to the super healthy eating plan that I started us on a month ago.

Sophie is a monkey in her new winter hat. 

HER: I can hear my stomach growling. It is getting ready to vacate the premises, walk itself to the refrigerator and make itself a sandwich.
Me: We have no bread, butter or sandwich fixings. Would you like a carrot?
HER: YES. YES, I will have yet another GD$!#*&! carrot.

I hand her a lovely, giant, carrot. It has, in fact, been washed.

HER: REALLY? You give the goats carrots every day. You wash the carrots, peel the carrots and then cut the carrots into pieces. Not just regular pieces but sticks. THEN YOU PUT THEM IN WARM WATER SO THE GOATS WON'T HAVE TO EAT COLD CARROTS. AND THEN YOU DRY THE CARROTS OFF BECAUSE GOATS DON'T LIKE WET CARROTS.
And you hand ME a fusty, hairy carrot with its hat still on?

Me: Do you know how many children choke every year on hot dogs because the tube shape gets stuck in their throats? Tube shaped foods have to be cut lengthwise. Carrots apply.
HER: But they are NOT children, they are goats. GOATS!

Me: Yes, AND they also don't have any top teeth. When YOU no longer have top teeth, I will cut up your carrots. Until then, if you need your carrots in sticks you can use your arms and cut them up yourself!
Just eat your carrot and have a big glass of water and soon it will be dinner.

HER: Oh great. What are we having? Turnip peels and prune pits? All of Rose and Sophie's scraps?
ME: No. Would you like a treat? I could make you a few big hot dogs. And don't worry, I won't cut them up.



Thursday, January 17, 2013

My Fairy Goat Mother.....

I have the best Fairy Goat Mother since time began. This morning I was incredibly focussed on my painting and paid little attention to anything else. A one track mind. I had one and was heading towards Troubleville fast.
I gathered up my brushes, my coffee and my paper towels, put on some shoes and a hat, went outdoors and up to my studio. I couldn't wait to get to work!
The past few weeks I have been doing some oil paintings for the summer....big, chunky canvases with lots of textured, yummy paint. I LOVE it!
SO, to work I went......scraping, squeezing, mixing, blending, throwing. LOTS of throwing, splattering and flicking.
I was so proud of myself for taking the time to put up a plastic sheet before I started. SHE would be so very proud, too. I wasn't until I looked down and saw the floor (the one She has been sanding the paint off so She can re-paint it) that I realized I forgot to cover up the floor. To make matters worse, I had put on Her very best El Naturalista shoes from Spain. The leather ones that She hopes will last all her life long. WHY HAD SHE LEFT THEM BY THE DOOR? I just slipped into them this morning without thinking. Shoes...I needed them.
The magic of it all?  There was only one teeny-tiny speck of blue paint on the right foot. Nothing else. My Fairy Goat Mother was on duty this morning and I'll have to make sure she gets a bonus.
When She sees the floor though, I suspect She might die from the anger. On a positive note, Her Spanish shoes WILL have lasted all Her life long!
Image: "Aloof" Oil on Canvas by Cara kansala 2013   30" x 60"

Image: "Into the Trough" Oil on Canvas by Cara Kansala 2013 30" x 60"

Image: The Most Popular Shoes in Troubleville

Saturday, January 12, 2013

It's a goat my Lord, in a half ton Ford, slowin' down to get a kick outta me...



Big, lovely box of delicious paints arrived from Curry's on Tuesday so I am going to work and leaving HER to Her own devices in the kitchen. She asked today, for wiener schnitzel but after the last German meal, it will be a long time before I fill Her hungriger bauch with saurkrout und wurstwaren.

 A few weeks ago, lovely friends were over for the big, German feast......

HER: BLAH...BLAH... BLAH...TRUCKS. TRUCKS! BLAH BLAH TRUCKS.  Running boards, trailer hitch, TORQUE, shock absorbers, stabilizer  bar, compression ratio, BLAH BLAH, double wishbone, TRUCKS, kinetic suspension, transfer case, crawl control. BLAH BLAH BLAH TRUCKS.

She is talking about trucks and I might die from the boredom  My heart is actually slowing down and I feel my pulse weakening. It goes on and on and on..........multi-dash terrain select, hood scoop, moon roof.

At least one of our guests is taking part in Her Truck-fest 2012, so that is good thing. I try to break in with offers of more kartoffelsalat or Paulaner....NOPE! SHE is on a roll!

ME: WELL, THE ONLY THING I KNOW ABOUT TRUCKS IS THAT A HALF TON TRUCK WEIGHS HALF A TON.

Silence.

She looks at me like I just stuck a steak knife in my eye socket while singing "Doe-A-Deer".

HER: BA-HA-HA! That is your best joke EVER!

Everyone chuckles and they all talk some more about the hemi engines.

I am glad that I was able to break in with a joke. It wasn't until later that I consulted with the Google and found out that half ton trucks don't actually weigh, half a ton.
....and I guess that stabilizer bars aren't delicious, blood-sugar regulating treats that you keep in your glove box, either.







Monday, January 7, 2013

Oh My Mummer, What a Bummer!






Images: The stages of a mummer carving from beginning to END.
Hand-Carved/Hand-Painted by Cara & Pam

We have been working this week on the next mummer figurine for Mummer's The Word.....SHE has been whittling away Her days while I await the finished carving.........
HER: Can I take a photo of you from behind?
ME: PARDON?
HER: Could you sort of bend at the knee and lean forward a bit.....I need the pose for the mummer carving.
ME: You mean the mummer that is going to be rotund, jolly, bottom-heavy, heavy-set and STOCKY?
She looks nervous....the gerbil that lives in her head has just boarded his wheel....around and around he goes. That wheel is turning. Fast.
She starts to say seventeen different things at once and clearly cannot come up with a response that will be
a) suitable
and/or
b) pleasing to my delicate ears
Moreover, (I am over 40 now, so I can say things like moreover and behoove) MOREOVER, I have us on a New Year's Resolution schedule of healthy breakfasts and lunches and yummier dinners. Tonight I was going to make Her a roast of beef with mushrooms and asparagoosies. SHE knows that if She doesn't play Her cards right, She could possibly end up choking down a bowl of Red River with extra flax seeds to boot. And maybe even a boot.
HER: Oh my god, there is no way to fix this except to say that you NEED your heavy bottom because you fall down so much!
ME: WHAT?
HER: Oh my GOD! I am so hungry my mouth is just working on its own here. PLEASE let's cook the roast and be friends. If your bottom was smaller, you'd have to get new clothes and just think how much you hate shopping!
I look at Her with amusement and turn around and pose for Her photo.
She sighs and takes Her pictures and goes into the kitchen with an air of relief.
HER: Would you like a diet Root Beer?
ME: I don't have any more.
HER: You DO! I hid one away for ...ah...um...times like this?
She passes me a frosty glass.
HER: BOTTOMS UP!
I didn't know She could run that fast.




Sunday, January 6, 2013

Back to the Drawing Board!

To all of our friends, customers and clients - thank you for making 2012 the Best Year Since Time Began! I so appreciate you sharing your comments, laughter and stories with me...it is nice to know that I am not alone in the world with my spills, clumsies and faux paws!
 We here, at The Grumpy Goat had so much fun creating custom pieces, pet portraits, wedding gifts and birthday surprises for those of you who chose to gift a Grumpy Goat gift! To everyone who shopped at and supported our new online store, thanks a squidillion for your support and to friends who are able to come out to the gallery in person, we can't wait to see you when we re-open in June, 2013. 
What's up for 2013?
Lots of people have asked for it, so here it comes.....
The Official Naked Nan Calendar - 2014
(Nan is pretty impressed with herself and has said she'll even sign a few copies if she ever gets rid of the tendonitis she got while competing in  The 2012 Crochet Olympics)
Also, there will be lots of new originals available soon through the store and all kinds of new paintings done in canvas reproduction!
We're back to the drawing board and the paint is flying!

 Image: Private Christmas commission, 2012 by Cara & Pam

 Image: "The Kitty City Bakery" private commission, hand-painted floorcloth by Cara

 Image: "Just Before the Storm" (Oil on Canvas by Cara Kansala) in its new home!

Image: Sophia and Rose contemplating New Years Resolutions. They've decided not to butt heads on every issue if we promise to give them a bigger window with a better view.

Image: "The Holy Goats of Bishop's Cove" (Oil on Canvas by Cara Kansala) and its happy, new owner!

Hooray for everyone! Wishing good luck, good health and lots of laughter for you and yours in 2013!

From: Cara, Pam, Rosie, Sophia, Stanley, Blanche, Big Fat BooBoo, Nana, Foofi, Brother Bear, Lily, Vincenzo, Liza Minnelli, Popeye, Fat Aunt Sylvia, Itchy, Scratchy, PJ Tips, Pumpkin, Boris and the birds of Grumpy Goat Garden.


Monday, December 24, 2012

Saturday, December 22, 2012

My Life in the Hot Seat......



I might have mentioned before that I have a cute hypochondria. It is sweet and endearing and never ever drives Her to the brink, the edge or around the bend.
The growth under my mouth?  My chin.
The shakes in my hands and buzzy feeling in my chest?  37 cups of espresso.
My monthly hysteria as I put on my socks…. “Oh my God, I’ve grown another toe!!”
“We all have 5 toes.” She tells me. “ON EACH FOOT?” I ask.
Last week we had to go to the gallery in town and change and re-arrange and re-organize and so She loaded me into our rental vehicle (yellow peril was in the garage for minor surgery) and off we went.
After a few minutes, I started to feel very odd. “The Worry” set in and I started going over my very extensive symptoms list in my head.
Symptoms of a stroke: Headache- nope. Ask yourself what day it is. WHAT DAY IS IT? I asked myself. I DON’T KNOW! I answered. OH MY GOD! But you often don’t know what day it is, I tell myself. I move on to the next symptom.
Dizziness? Nope. Can I smile? Yes, but I don’t want to because I feel so odd.
My legs and thighs are very tingly and my back is very hot, VERY HOT. My bum might be going numb, it is THAT hot. I am starting to panic and these strange feelings are only getting worse. Maybe I am going paralyzed. Maybe I AM having a stroke and this is a very rare symptom. HOT. The heat of 1000 suns is bursting through my caboose and is getting worse as the kilometers roll by. If I say something to Her, She will just get mad and say “Don’t be so foolish, you’re fine.”
So I keep my zipper zipped and close my eyes and will my body to heal thyself.
Minutes pass and I am starting to panic. I can’t take it anymore and decide to tell Her that we have to go to the hospital before She turns towards St. John’s.
ME: “We have to go to the hospital”
HER: “WHY?” she asks.
ME: “I am having a stroke or a heart attack or both or an outbreak of cancer. I have a fever in my bum!”
HER: “What is wrong exactly?”
ME: “I am tingly and burning. Burning like fire all down the back of my legs, my lower back and bum!”
She is convulsing and pulls over to the shoulder. Stopped.  OH MY GOD…….SHE knows that these ARE symptoms of the stroke-cancer-heart-attack-seizure and is having a hysterical panic attack. I will have to drive myself to the hospital!
BAH-HA-HA-HAAABAHA HA HA HA! She screams. Tears are running down Her face. She must know that this is the end and can’t face the world without me in it.
My heart is racing, bum on fire, panic set-in, ready for the full-on hysteria ….…
HER: “THIS CAR  HAAS HEATED SEEAATS!  BAHAHAHA BAHAHAHAHA!”  HAVE YOU BEEN WORRIED ALL THIS TIME THAT YOU HAVE A FEVER IN YOUR BUM? BBAHAHAHAAAA!”
We stay on the shoulder for quite a few minutes as it takes this long for Her to compose Herself and get a grip. Needless to say, we did not go to the hospital. I MAY have to go fairly soon though, for trauma to my ego. Ego-itis, it’s called. Do you know or have any idea how many jokes can be made about a bum, a backside or a hot bum. Millions, I tell you millions. I hate the stupid rental car and all of the trouble it has caused me. What a bummer, indeed. 


 "Blanche The Recycler" inspects the garbage can and chastises us for not re-using the gift wrap.




Wednesday, December 19, 2012

For Sale: One Extra Large Carpenter/Artist. Comes with Own Tools and a Months Supply of Feed. No Returns.

Yesterday afternoon after a busy morning, we decided to take a quiet break for 1 hour.
SHE has Her nose in a book.
I am also holding an open book in my lap. We are being quiet.
Me: "SO.......I cooked the ham and made the gingersnaps, the 2 mats are painted and I am going to varnish them this afternoon. I finished wrapping the gifts for Ontario and I've got everything ready to bring to town. I need you to cut the backs for the big orders and get down the jars from on top of the cupboard because I can't reach them."
She doesn't move a muscle, look at me or even acknowledge my words with a grumble. SHE is on a break.
 Me: "We have to add hay and grain to the shopping list and also, if you want chowder, we will have to get scallops. You have to call Aliant and also move the picnic table up onto the deck. I need to get some more tupperware containers......and cloves - I need whole cloves for the pork roast for the New years Eve party. Is it time to put the clothes in the dryer? I fed the goats and changed their water. Sophie seems great but Rosie is a little hoarse. Blanche and Stanley are outside. Should we get them all a little tree? "
SHE doesn't move a muscle, look at me or even acknowledge my words with a grumble. SHE is on a break.
45 minutes later, with Her nose and eyes still deep in the book......

Her: ".....and all this time I thought Rosie was a goat."

Monday, December 17, 2012

...and that's what it's all about!

This was a photograph we were given when  asked to create a custom wood-carved piece for a lovely family we met last summer. 

This is the piece we made. Hand-Carved/Hand-Painted by Cara & Pam 2012

This is the man from the photograph posing with his piece. It was a joy for us to work on because we knew it was about a special moment  on a very special day. The customers were pleased and we were happy too.....and that is what it's all about.



Saturday, December 15, 2012

Hark! It's Hairold!

This week we've been busier than two full-fat sour cream salesman at a baked potato convention.
Custom orders, online shop shipments and Christmas events that need attending. No time for twice baked potatoes here!

Last week..... I am running late. SHE is ready to go, with coat and shoes on. She is jingle-jangling the car keys in her hand which in Her universe, must make people move faster.
I have put on my tights, my spanx, my good brassiere, my control top-ready for battle underthingy, my full slip and my newly pressed good dress. I have washed the Hair, blown it dry, straightened it with the dangerous straightening stick and have the make-up on. I am exhausted but ready to roll. One last glance in the mirror and I notice that Hair is sticking up. Floating above my head. I look like I did went I was 10 and went to the science museum and put my hand on the electric magic ball. Hair has betrayed me and has gone static for the second time in its life.
ME: PAM! Ask the Google for an anecdote to static cling of the hair!
Her: Pardon?
ME: I need an anecdote to get rid of the static hair! Hurry!!!
Her: That's what I thought you said......
The keys stop jangling and I hear Her walking away, hopefully to consult the Google.
I take out my tiny bottle of magic Arganon Hair Straightening oil and smooth it over Hair. Nothing.
Her: Did you hear about the lady who went to bed but her hair stayed up?
ME: What? WHAT?
Her: Did you hear about the man who had a hair-raising mishap when he stuck his finger in a socket?
ME: Are you joking?
Her: Yes. You asked me to.
ME: WHAT?
Her: You asked for an anecdote. Would you instead, like an antidote?
ME: ^{##<%|>>!!!!!
Her: How did your hair get that way? Did you rub a balloon on your head?
ME: YES! ALL MORNING IN BETWEEN PAINTING, MAKING TORTIERE, FILLING ORDERS AND WRAPPING GIFTS, EVERY CHANCE I GOT, I RUBBED A BALLOON ON MY HEAD!!!
Her: Well, I don't think you should do that anymore unless you plan on staying home.
Jingle-jangle-jingle.......

Yes. We are still together but just barely. Barely just.......




Saturday, December 8, 2012

Wacky Weekend Sale!

Sophie and Rose have goat-jacked the online store for the weekend and are having a
SILLY WEEKEND SALE! (While Quantities last!)
THEY MUST HAVE HAY FEVER!

St. John's Harbour, 16" x 16"
Canvas Reproduction - 33% OFF!


St. John's Narrows, 16" x 16"
Canvas Reproduction - 33% OFF!


Icebergs in the Tickle, 16" x 16"
Canvas Reproduction - 33% OFF!

PLUS, Free Shipping (for North America) and gift wrap, too!

The goats don't like to toot their own horns but they think this is a pretty goaty holiday deal!


SALE ENDS DECEMBER 10th at 10pm.

Friday, November 30, 2012

Nothing to Stew Over......

Image: "Sophia's First Snowfall" Acrylic on Canvas by Cara
Because this has been an incredibly hectic, difficult week I decided last night to make a lovely, homemade beef stew. I put down my paintbrush, picked up my wooden spoon and went to work. I thought it would cheer Her up and that having a nice, quiet dinner would give us a chance to take a breath and relax.
HER: nom, nom, NOM... this is very VERY good stew. NOM, NOM. VERY GOOD.
Me: Thanks. nom.nom.
HER: No, no, it is REALLY good. Your stew is always terrific but this one is even better! The gravy!  NOM. NOM.
Me: Well, it's the same as always.
HER: What is in it? NOM. NOM.
Me: Beef, carrots, parsnips, peas, allspice, shallots, bacon, red wine....the usual.
HER: NOMNOMNOM....I thought we were out of red wine?
Me: Nope, I found a bottle in the back of the cupboard.
HER: NOM, NOM, NO.........red wine in the back of the cupboard?
Me: Yes...old black bottle.
She appears to be choking on a carrot and has turned a strange greenish-white colour. Not very attractive, even in the candlelight.
HER: oh......no. Please don't say it was my Amarone. PLEASE.
Me: WELL HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW!! nom. nom.
HER: I WAS SAVING IT. IT COST A FORTUNE!
Me: Well, you shouldn't keep so many secrets. Do you want me to put the rest of the gravy in a wine glass?
HER: nom. NO.
Me: Well, is it still the best stew since time began?
HER: YES. It IS fabulous. NOM.NOM.
Me: Then stop wine-ing about it and enjoy.
HER: Can I at least drink the rest of the wine with my dinner?
Me: No, because I put the whole bottle in.
HER: uhhhhh.....
Me: Well, if you eat all the stew, you will be so drunk you'll forget about it until morning.

HER: ok. NOM.NOM.
Me: See? Nothing to stew over at all..........
 THE EMPTY

She slept with it last night 
close to her heart
She clutched it tightly
cold and black
Its vacancy mocked Her
coursing through Her veins
the liquid gold 
infused her dreams with lies
the pillow wet with a thousand tears
the irony weighted her soul
fitfully
She slept.
Amarone.
Amarone.
Amarone.




by Cara Kansala