Isn't She Lovely?

I won! The Arte Y Pico Award! Many thanks to Ronalyn, discoverer of all things artistically interesting, over at A World of Creativity for the honor. Ronalyn, herself a recipient, chose our blog (along with 4 other fabulous bloggers - you can read about them here) because, in her words, "this girl is smart and funny, her cats are cute and I like it." Ronalyn, so sorry to disillusion you, honey. The Kitties tell me what to write, generally after waaaay too much catnip. And, yes, they are cute. Which is why they are still around after throwing irreplaceable handblown glass lamps to the hardwood floor.

But, I digress. I just LOVE the pretty award lady, all dressed in - how did they know? - PURPLE! And I didn't have to find a dress for the Awards Ceremony, I accepted the trophy in my pajamas. Of course, since I heard the news, I have been working on an acceptance speech. Here is what I have, so far:

You like me! You really like me! Oh, wait, that's been done before...

I would like to thank all seven of my blog readers, especially Ronalyn, who likes cute Kitties. And my mother, for spraying FeBreeze down the vents when there was a dead thing in the basement. I loved writing that post. And my friend David, for slogging through treatment for colon cancer, and getting a ZERO on his circulating tumor test, BIG YAY!, and giving me a reason to blog about colonoscopies. And my dad, for persevering through 13 different doctors who thought they had the answers to his dizziness. And laughing at his own convoluted treatment regimen when I documented it. And, of course, those cute Kitties. Who are not much on Thank-Yous; and are rolling in catnip at this very moment. They look like breaded pork chops with legs.

I'd better not forget my friend, Penelope; and Stacy and Clinton. But I have to say, those constant emails angling for prominence in yet another post is getting old, guys.

Speaking of Stacy and Clinton...to accept the Arte Y Pico award, I have to agree to The Rules. Now I have to decide on future recipients, like this:

1) I must choose 5 blogs that I consider deserving of this award by virtue of creativity, design, general interest, and contribution to the blogging community, regardless of language (the Arte Y Pico site is in Portuguese. Did I ever tell you about the time I was in Lisbon and I thought I asked the waiter for a napkin? When, in fact, I asked for a sanitary napkin? It would be best to use an online translation site if you want to read the Arte Y Pico blog, rather than asking for my help.)

2) Each award must include the name of the author and also a link to the blog, so that everyone can visit.

3) Each award winner must display the award and include the name and link to the blogger who bestowed the award.

4) The award winner, along with the award giver, must include a link to the "Arte Y Pico" blog.

5) The Rules must be displayed.

So, like I'm not busy enough picking up lamp shards and growing organic catnip; now I have to go blog shopping. Geez...I can't wait! Stay tuned. It might take a while, but you'll be the first to know when I make my decisions!

In the meantime, don't forget the auction for the displaced animals in Iowa, here. There are just a few days left! And I've got that BIG project moved from the back burner to the front burner. I will need your help.

Mwa! Mwa! (Air kisses!) Thanks for checking in, and thanks again, Ronalyn!

Working From Home: All That and a Bag of Chips! or is it?

Do you think you want to work from home? Do you envision a beautifully organized "Home Office," full of Pottery Barn, Crate and Barrel and The Container Store "Systems?" A DayRunner with entries like:

Thursday, 8:15 AM - CALL MR. BIG! (lock barking dogs in basement bathroom first)

Thursday, 9:30 AM - Go to Starbucks.

Thursday, 10:00 AM - CALL MR. BIG AGAIN because he was not in at 8:15, but it's good to have a nice, early time stamp on voicemail.

Thursday, 10:30 AM - Doodle while catching up on TV shows and the weekend plans with office-bound peers.

Thursday, 1 PM - Record All My Children. Heck, the phone is quiet, just watch it. And do a load of laundry.

Thursday, 2 PM - Reheat leftover pizza. Eat while filling out expense report and playing solitaire (in a separate tab, of course.)

Thursday, 2:30 PM - Quit for day to make up for working through lunch. Go shopping.

Sound good? Go for it! But when you discuss your Work-From-Home Plan with the boss, it is IMPERATIVE that your agreement includes a Personal Emergency System Lanyard Alarm Button.

I work in my basement studio, and also wherever I happen to drag my jewelry parts. Sometimes I hammer metal on the deck. Sometimes I make silver curly-cues while I am talking to my mother about gout. And frequently I assemble necklaces in waiting rooms while my mother-in-law has physical therapy. I can, and do, work almost anywhere.

This morning I hit the ground running; well, after the requisite caffeine fix. Dealt with family business first. We needed rocks for a retaining wall, and some agave plants for the back yard. (FYI: There are no plans to brew tequila. Do you "brew" tequila? Ferment it? It's probably a good thing that tequila is not the plan.) I was on the phone, and on line for a few hours with this Personal Business before I got down to Impersonal Business. Still in my cute-but-indoor-only Vera Wang navy and white pajamas. With matching flip-flops. I was mixing resin, alone in my basement, and there is no dress code there.

Man-o-man, I was Exceeding Expectations! Great rock deals, the jewelry sparkled; and there was hummus and pita in the fridge for lunch. Life was good.

And then, the Old Dog looked kind of...squirmy. The way she looks when she really, really, really needs to go out. Let me pause a moment here to tell you that she is deaf, and virtually blind. And when she gets nervous she scatters about like a pinball.

I opened the front door; she dashed out. As did The Dog Who Has No Idea You Are Talking To Her. This one is a "rescue" from a puppy mill. She spent years in a concrete box, making cute puppies, with no human companionship whatsoever. Conversation is merely background noise to her. She understands nothing beyond the word "cookie.". She is happy now, in a generic way; but, like the blind person who has surgery at age 40 and discovers sight that makes no sense, she just doesn't get the idea that vocalizations relate to her.

The two rather challenged canines took care of business and headed straight back to the corral, because sometimes cookies are handed out if they have been good. I was standing outside on the front step, ready to lead them to their rewards, and grabbed the door handle, which

Fell off in my hand. Wait, FELL OFF??? The door handle just fell off. I was on the outside of the door. The door handle just fell off. I couldn't get into the house. Where I work. Where these creatures live. Where my cell phone is. And my clothes. What the...

My neighbors were all working in office complexes bordered with Windmill Palm Trees (hardy to Zone 3, I learned when I ordered the agaves.) No way to break in, All the doors and windows except this one have burglar bars. And my cute-but-not-so-socially-appropriate Vera Wang Pajamas with matching flip flops were not a good look for flagging down passing vehicles.

I willed myself to stop panicking and be resourceful...coerce the hounds to the back door. We couldn't get in because of the burglar bars, but I could trap the dogs safely on the deck and...think...think...think...of what to do next.

Except, the dogs decided they must be in trouble (or I was insane) because I was flailing about and making loud noises; so they fled in the direction of the nearest busy road. My flip-flops precluded effective chase. Calling a deaf dog and one who has no language skills is not very helpful, but I tried. Fortunately, they encountered a brick wall a few houses down; and turned around. To run the other way. Down in the gully, which leads to the lake. Brambles, rocks and probably sunning snakes. I needed a game plan. Fast. Scrambled up the deck steps and pretended to be eating something delicious. Made lots of yummy smacking noises, and pantomimed exaggerated eating behavior. The dogs stopped running and came toward me, obviously intrigued. (As were the neighbors, I'm sure.) But when they reached the deck to find me dragging the storage bench across the stairs and the "food opportunity" looking a little sketchy the suspicions returned; and they made another mad dash, this one back to the relative safety of the front door. Fortunately they were bordering on exhaustion, so I had no trouble threading the flower hose through their collars to immobilize them.

Forty-five minutes of "tag," now I could sit down to think.

Should I break a window? Could we climb in? (As the cats climbed out...) Would there be any way to reach the keys to the burglar bars through a window? Should we wait, tethered to the hose, for 5 hours until Son One returned from work to pick up HIS dog (who is barking at us from inside, because we are clearly trying to break in?) Maybe I should wiggle that little remaining piece of the handle a little more?

Wiggling seemed the least dangerous option, so I started there.

I wiggled to the left. To the right. Up, down; listening (between barks) like a safe cracker. Slowly, carefully, methodically. OK, obsessively. Maniacally. For a half an hour, and suddenly

I felt something "click." Said a prayer, pushed and

I was in the house. With clothes! And a telephone! And all the animals! Oops, except for the ones tied to the hose. They fought like bulls, but I disentangled them and pushed them through the door.

Took a shower, and it was back to work as usual. Right after I ordered a new door handle, arranged a Door Handle Inspection by a Certified Door Handle Specialist, and called for my Personal Emergency System Lanyard Alarm Button. (Because I dialed "within the next ten minutes" I will also receive a Bonus Personal Emergency System Keyring Alarm Button. I think I will keep it outside, under the hose.)