Cool, calm, and collected

Zoe mentioned to me last night as we were having our evening snuggle that she thought my previous posts this week were a little bizarre.

"Bashed in doll heads?" she asked as she licked her shoulder. "Non-edible babies?" (She's not completely over the comment I made about her looking like a Cheddar Bunny.)

As she began giving herself her nightly pedicure, she looked up coyly and asked, "What's up for Friday? Lucky rabbit's feet?"

HARSH!

Of course, I find feet attached to a rabbit to be delightfully lucky, but they have to be attached. I find disembodied parts to be frightful.

Wait, I should qualify that: I find disembodied animal parts to be frightful.

(An aside: Miss Kitty at the library pointed out to me last year that she thought it was strange that I cannot bring myself to eat a chocolate Easter bunny, but I have no problem eating the little chocolate praying hands that they make. But, I guess that's a story for my therapist. Sorry.)

Mmmmmm... chocolate praying hands.
As Homer Simpson would say, "Sacrilicious."

Anyhow, in keeping with the theme of strange dolls and disembodied parts, I thought I'd share with you a couple of my collections.

Now, I'm supposing that sounds a little weird, but bear with me.

First, my "found doll" collection:


When you ride your bike or walk pretty much everywhere as Blisschick and I do, you find some pretty strange things lying around in the street. As a person who has forever been unhealthily attached to inanimate objects, I cannot resist picking them up and taking them home.

Next, my contributions to disembodied parts:

My cat whisker collection.
I've been keeping this collection for about 4 years
and have whiskers here from 8 different cats. WOW!

And, my cat fur collection.

The furs in this bag are only from cats
that live or have lived in our own house.

I don't really think of myself as a collector, but I guess I am.

Of course, Zoe's collection has nothing to do with dolls or disembodied parts. Her collection has to do with her refusal to carry things down to the kitchen when she's done with them.

Zoe's Afternoon Rabbit Salad Bowl Collection.
She prefers to think of it as installation art.
OK. Whatever.

What do you collect?

Fat Tuesday, in which we discover something new about babies

Today is Ash Wednesday.

Which means, of course, that yesterday was Fat Tuesday.

I had to work yesterday, and it was a fun day to work. In my department, any excuse to bring in food and encourage a party atmosphere is welcome.

Yesterday, Fat Tuesday filled that bill.

One person generously brought in some donuts. Someone else brought in a bowl of candy. As it is now Girl Scout Cookie Time (YAY!), there were also a few open boxes of those on the scene, plastic sleeves lying open and crumby like the scene of some sort of chocolate and coconut crime.

But the real draw?

The King Cake!

For those of you unfamiliar or unclear on the concept, here's a little tidbit from our friends at Wikipedia:

The king cake of the New Orleans Mardi Gras tradition comes in a number of styles. The most simple, said to be the most traditional, is a ring of twisted bread similar to that used in brioche topped with icing or sugar, usually coloured purple, green, and gold (the traditional Carnival colors) with food colouring. Some varieties have filling inside, the most common being cream cheese followed by praline.

OK, I'm down with that. Oh, but there's one more thing.

There's a baby inside the cake.

No, no, not a real baby...

The side of the King Cake box.

... a non-edible baby!!

What did you think I meant???

The Golden Child: The non-edible baby

But then, really, the kicker as far as I'm concerned is that the makers of the box (would that be some sort of King Cake Authority?) felt the need to qualify the word baby with the descriptor non-edible.

It leaves one wondering: what would be considered an edible baby?

Non edible babies lying in the sun.

Non-edible baby walking away from you.
Did you really think she was edible?
Seriously?

OK, this one's tricky.
It looks like a Cheddar Bunny, I realize.
But, no, still not an edible baby.
Very, very non-edible.

Trust me on this one.

I guess I need to learn more about babies.

In the meantime, I'll try not to choke on the non-edible ones.

From The What World of What???

1971 was a wonderful year, wasn't it?

Walt Disney World opened.

Cigarette ads were banned on radio and television.

I was born. (OK, and if that's not exciting enough for you, so was Snoop Dogg.)

And in the world of publishing, this happened:

That's right!! It's Doll Repair: From the Gay World of Dolls

Seriously?

So, there I was at work a couple of weeks ago. I had wandered down to the mail room to check my little mailbox. I didn't have anything, so in my usual habit, I stayed a bit to visit with the woman whose job it is to pack up the Inter-library Loans to send out with the UPS man.

In the middle of a conversation about (what else?) our cats, the above pale pink cover caught my eye.

Then the title and picture caught my eye.

Well, who could resist? A book from the Gay World of Dolls? Certainly not I.

I picked up that book. I flipped through its mysterious and macabre pages. And, I don't think I'll ever be the same again.

Before and after. I love before and after, don't you?

I mean, just look at these pictures. They could inspire nightmares. The table-full of "parts." the bashed in head. Was this the work of a serial killer?


As you flip through the book, it only gets better. Amongst patterns for little doll shoes and tools to fix the dolls that look like medieval torture devices made from rusty hangers, there are pictures, like the one above, of "lustrous nylon hair" hanging on what? Is that a tiny little clothesline for hair?

Parts hanging. Parts lying around.
Parts.
Creepy.

OK, so maybe Blisschick and I watch a little too much Dexter. Or perhaps it's the Midsomer Murders. Whatever the case, I feel like a psychologist should be brought in.

I feel like I need a consultation.

Like, now.

And, for the poor little dolly who's had her head bashed in, or perhaps been stabbed or had her eyes ripped out? Not to worry!! There's...

GAYGOOP!!

There's even a recipe. They caution you that it can take some time to get the color and consistency right (wouldn't you expect there to be an art to something like that?), but they go on to say that Gaygoop is actually "real easy to make."

But make sure you follow the recipe. Use the best powdered wood available.

(Is powdered wood really available? Who makes it? Termites? Beavers?)

I'm so sure! Doll bondo. Slap those pieces back together. Lay on the Gaygoop. Smooth it over. A little carefully placed paint and a buff job, and dolly will pass inspection for one more year, guaranteed.

And so we end with this picture. Zoe and I think it speaks for itself. We're not sure what it says, but....

I hope I'm never dark and scared more as a piece of wood.

I'll just try hard to get the Gaygoop right, and hopefully it won't come to that.

The brain is wider than the sky

Rosie the Cat can't even believe you're real. Are you real?

Tonight, Blisschick and I are having dinner with some wonderful people at Miss Kitty's house. Miss Kitty is a Children's Librarian at the library where I work and perhaps the best chef on the planet. Seriously. She could give any of those newly famous chefs a run for their money if you ask me.

One of the people who will be at Miss Kitty's diner party tonight is our good friend Ken. Ever since we met Ken, he's been battling cancer. What started as colon cancer went to his lungs and also to his brain.

The most amazing thing about Ken is that he never gives up. He travels. He lunches. He creates. He loves his life. He has his ups and his downs like all of us would, but his downs never keep him down.

It's why he's lived so long and so well against all the odds. If you saw him right now, you wouldn't even know there was anything going on with him. Amazing.

Ken is also an artist. He paints and he decorates like nobody's business. When he told me that he liked my art, I was thrilled. It meant a lot to me. And what painting was his favorite?

This bunny.

I love this bunny, too. It's not a bunny whom I know. It's just a bunny that I had sort of a vision of and whom I subsequently painted. When Ken liked that bunny so very much, I knew that was why I had painted him.

For Ken.

Next time we went over to have dinner with Ken and his wife, Debbie, we took the bunny painting. Of course, Ken had just the right antique frame for him.

A couple of months ago, when Ken was anticipating brain surgery to remove a tumor, I was inspired to paint him a brain. I had been reading about and running into the idea of milagros for some time by then, and it just seemed like the right thing to do. I had to paint this brain for him.

Brain Milagro for Ken

The idea behind this brain was to help Ken to focus on healing thoughts about his brain. To focus his intentions on the part that needed it. That's the whole point of milagros or ex votos or talismans or whatever you may want to call them. They are a tool to help you focus your thoughts, prayers, or intentions.

I have to say it felt a little weird to send someone a picture of a brain. I wasn't sure how Ken would react. To many people, it is kind of weird. Paintings of body parts? But they serve a function.

And Ken and Debbie used to live in New Orleans. Nothing is weird to them. :)

Ken actually framed the brain and then hung it near to the bunny painting and linked them together with a chain. Something about that is very special.

Brain II, The Sequel: A Brain Pendant

Soon after, I made another brain, this time a pendant, for a friend whose brother was recently operated on for a brain tumor. She mentioned many times to me how that brain pendant somehow comforted her and somehow helped her to think more positively. Her brother, who is a mathematician, is recovering quite well at this point with no adverse affects so far. Cool.

Miss Zoe thinks that focusing on her cute belly
will help you feel generally better in all ways.
She's probably right.
She also said it works even better
if you give her a banana chip and then focus on her belly.
I'll have to try it.

We leave you today with this thoughtful poem from Emily Dickinson:

CXXVI

THE BRAIN is wider than the sky,
For, put them side by side,
The one the other will include
With ease, and you beside.

The brain is deeper than the sea,
For, hold them, blue to blue,
The one the other will absorb,
As sponges, buckets do.

The brain is just the weight of God,
For, lift them, pound for pound,
And they will differ, if they do,
As syllable from sound.

Zoe and I hope your dinner tonight is as good as ours is going to be. Good friends and good food. You just can't beat it.

The Naked Truth

Don't look so surprised, Coconut Sun.
Haven't you seen it all?

I want you to think back. Right now, I mean. Close your eyes and picture the illustrations from the picture book that was your fave. It can be either your fave from when you were little, or a current fave you now like to read to your bunny or your kitten. Oh -- or I guess, your child. :)

OK, let me edit that request a bit. Picture the picture book with animals that was your fave.

I'm talking Pooh, Bedtime for Francis, Wind in the Willows, Ferdinand, Sylvester and the Magic Pebble. Or, newer ones like Olivia, Guess How Much I Love You, Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus.

Now, do you have one in mind?

Tell me this: are the animals wearing clothes? Are they partially clothed? Or, are they naked?

This is a great conversation to have at work, in particular if you work at a library.

But it's also a great conversation for a party in case you're looking for a good ice breaker.

Just what is the criteria for clothes on animals in stories? Has there even ever been a criteria?

I think back to the story Bread and Jam for Frances for instance. Sometimes Francis has on a full outfit. Other times she wears only a shirt. Francis' mother wears a a petticoat, dress, apron, and even a bonnet. Francis' father often wears only pants. The baby, Gloria, is almost always pictured completely naked.

This cover shows the range of clothes on animals:
from the overly clothed to the naked. Disturbing? Perhaps...

Pooh, on the other hand, along with Olivia, and the Wind in the Willows animals consistently wear shirts with no pants or in this picture of Olivia, below, pants with no shirts:



When I draw animals, I have to say, I usually refer to the wishes of my client or audience. For instance when I painted this representative Zoe in Miss Zoe's room, Zoe and I discussed the issue at length before the mural was painted:

Obviously, we decided on clothes...

So, tell us, then. Where do you side on this issue?

Clothes?

No clothes?

Partial clothes?

Answer carefully...at your peril.

Neither snow, nor rain...

We don't always get the most thrilling mail here at our little mammal-filled abode we like to call Lilypad.

I often look forward to the Val-Pak coupons if that gives you any idea.

This past Friday, we even got someone else's mail. The fact that their mail wasn't exciting either was some comfort to me.

But you know how the saying goes-- when it rains it pours!

On Saturday, we got a mailbox full of love! Makes sense, since it was Valentine's Day.

"I don't remember authorizing
any Valentine's Day spending. Hmph!"

First off, there was love from Party in My Pants (PIMP). Luci Daum, PIMP extraordinaire, sent us these awesome Short and Fat prototypes for, well... that time of the month. If you haven't checked out Party in My Pants or you don't know what this picture below depicts, then you need to check out the PIMP site immediately!!! I mean, like, right now!!!!

Seriously, girls, you have to try these.

Next, and also from Luci, is this Great Kitty Cuff:

Just a little something Luci whipped up in her spare time.

She sent one for Blisschick and one for me. I haven't taken mine off (well, except in the shower) since it arrived. Just look at those grouchy cats! Awesome!

And, now, introducing (Squishy) Frida Kahlo from bluJAY studio:

"Soy Libre" is written on her little dress. Sorry-- blurry shot.

This sweet little doll was my actual Valentine's Day gift from Blisschick. We absolutely love Frida. Besides being of our favorite artists (and, I know, a million other people's), we also greatly admire her as a person. Someday, we want to go to Mexico to see where she lived and worked. (Seeing wild monkeys would also be a MAJOR BONUS!)

Last, but not least, is this totally funky laptop sleeve made by Janine King Designs for my computer, Jing Jing. Because I still have that (sometimes pesky) full time job, I often take Jing Jing to work with me for a little writing and creative time on my lunch or dinner break.

Really, can you blame Jing Jing for wanting to travel in style?

Funky fun, yes? YES!

Wait, you didn't think we forgot Miss Zoe did you? Seriously?!?

Well, then take a gander at this here giant box being guarded by none other than the Lovely Miss Lilly:

What's in the box? Sweet Hay for the Sweetest Rabbit from Sweet Meadow Farms, that's what!

Time for a cocktail, Mr. Postman. We got our money's worth out of you!

Such a Saintly Shelf

Today, Zoe, Lilly, and I are are all hanging out here in the Rabbit Room, a.k.a. our studio.

We avoided doing anything for awhile today. Who knows why? (A rhetorical question. I actually do know why, but thanks. :))

You know how that can be, right?

We opted to play on the computer a bit, do software updates on our iPod, download some music...

(and may I say, we are loving what we downloaded today: Girl in a Coma's debut CD, Both Before I'm Gone. Check it out if you haven't already. Even the cover art is awesome.
"Totally rockin'," reviews Zoe, as she plays a little air bass guitar. Man, that's cute.)

...and then to do a bit of cleaning.

And while we were cleaning (and I have to say, cats and rabbits aren't terribly helpful at dusting
(unless you are this unlucky cat)), I was inspired to write about Inspiration.

There are an infinite amount of Things in the world that I find terribly inspirational to my creativity. But most recently, through the influence of Blisschick's more and more emergent Catholicism, Things like this inspire me in large amounts (see exhibit A, below):

Exhibit A: A Shelf of Saintliness: My Prayer Card Collection
(included in the center is an impostor!--
a piece of beauty from Jennifer Hugon that also lives on the shelf)

Now, you might say, "But you live with Miss Zoe and Miss Lilly and 3 other cats, plus about 5 Sparkle Cats (for an explanation of Sparkle Cats, see this Blisschick). Well, plus Blisschick. What more inspiration could you need?"

And, admittedly, that would be a good point.

"Take a good look," Miss Zoe quips with her trademark dry wit.
"I need no plate of eyeballs to accentuate my saintly nature.
It is what it is, yes?"

OK, Zoe, but even so, there's something about prayer cards, don't you think?

Last year, Blisschick and I went to a Catholic store near our house, and she bought me my first 2 prayer cards. I immediately imagined my Scotch Irish and very Protestant grandfather rolling in his grave as my finger traced the shape of the dragon laying at Martha's feet. I'd never really held prayer cards in my hands. I was instantly drawn into the scenes.

I loved the colors.

I loved the symbolism.

I loved the juxtaposition of the macabre and the divine.

I loved the narratives they contained.

I simply loved that they were small.

Sorry, Grandpa. But sometimes inspiration lies in unexpected places, you know?

Two more saintly souls who are a part of our assortment:
Miss Emily Dickinson (left) and Mr. F. Scott Fitzgerald (right)

What's hanging on your refrigerator?

I've been sick for the last couple of days.
But, you know, being sick is not always a bad thing.

Aside from the fever and the coughing, and the soreness due to having a fever and coughing, being sick is a great time to give one's body some (usually very necessary) rest, and it also happens to be a great excuse to hang out in one's fleecy rabbit pants for a couple of days snuggling one's bunny and kittens and watching movies.

Miss Zoe giving those fleecy rabbit pants
(and pink, glitter poodle socks) a run for their money.

Today, I feel a bit better and thought I'd try a little reading. And I came across this at Dirty Footprints:

There's talk that the state department of education might cut the Arts program all together state-wide. To me, if that happens, forget for a second that I'll be out of a job--it's like a huge black cloud just blanketed over this state. Can you imagine--a state with no Arts in the schools? I know I'm biased, but doesn't it break your heart---that hundreds of thousands of children will not be making things, creating things, bringing home pictures for the frig? Doesn't this really bother anyone---that this HUGE part of a child's development will just fade into air?

She had a few comments, including one from Carla, citing some positive things happening from the White House.

But you know, aside from the obvious no art of the refrigerator problem (which really is a huge problem), there is so much more to it.

Blisschick and I have been discussing this issue pretty much non-stop lately. Well, not this exact issue, but a by-product.

"Where are we without art?" asks Miss Lilly.

Good question.

A good historian or social anthropologist would most likely tell us that lack of support for the arts, lack of interest in the arts, is the sign of a civilization in decline.

Well, that can't be good.

Moreover, one of the greatest lessons art of any kind-- be it painting, drawing, photography, dance, theater, writing, higher math and physics, even-- is learning about perspective. Your relation to other.

In essence, learning an art teaches you to think critically and to act accordingly. It teaches you how to make good decisions. Or better decisions. Art is able to teach your brain these skills through osmosis in a way that literally cannot be taught.

It also teaches you to tap into the divine.

This isn't a new problem. It's been around for my whole lifetime. My mom and dad taught elementary school and junior high school respectively for 30+ years. As I was growing up, this issue was the topic of about a million dinner table discussions.

Cutting out the arts is always seen as a solution. But it would actually be our biggest mistake.

And the winner is...

The #2 logo sketch from last week's post.
Congratulations, little, wingy, flaming heart!
You won, hands down (Or wings down. Whatever.)

I want to thank the 20 or so people who wrote in last week in response to my Logos, Ethos, Pathos post. Some simply stated their favorite logo(s), and some gave some absolutely great and extremely appreciated constructive comments. I liked the mix of both gut and thoughtful reactions.

My next step will be to really think through some of those comments, such as, what do I want this logo to be saying about my work, what kinds of things will I use the logo for, and that kind of thing. Still a lot to consider. But now I have a solid place to start, so thank you!

Of course, Zoe liked #4 because of the fact that it contained a bunny. However, she now understands from a graphic design point of view, that it was a little too complicated. It's not easy to convince that rabbit of much, so those comments really helped.

Now, Zoe says she knew about the elemental complicated design issues all along. I'm not sure if I believe her...

Would you believe this bunny? I mean-- really?

Anyhow, in addition to thanking you all for coming to my aid (I am notoriously indecisive), I also wanted to thank the lovely Connie of Dirty Footprints Studio for having Blisschick and I on her Blog Talk Radio show yesterday.

If you missed the show, don't worry!! There's a link to the show on Connie's blog (click on link above). You can also see a great picture of Connie in her interviewing outfit!

Love those doggie pants, by the way, Connie. They rival my loungy, fleecy rabbit pants, I think.

Faux Poste

This is the trees' "real job." Just to stand there. And look cool. Good job, trees. Nice work.

We have this thing we say here at our house.

"Fake job."

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about how, though I would like (actually, LOVE would be a more accurate descriptor) to be an artist and a writer for a living, right now I have this job I go to everyday at the Erie County Public Library.

My library job is what Blisschick and I term my "fake job."

In an alternate or parallel universe, where, no doubt some version of me lives, I am fine with this job. (Also, in this parallel universe, I imagine I am a bit taller -- is that possible?)

I love the library. I believe in the library. I believe in its mission and in the idea of having a repository of knowledge and ideas that have been passed down through the centuries. I love the idea of the library being and becoming more and more a recreational destination for families and retirees and everyone amongst and in between those categories.

It's an exceptional place to be and to work. And in that alternate universe I spoke of, where I am not a painter or an artist or a writer who aspires to be a better painter, artist, and writer (and where I am hopefully taller), this job is great.

ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY awesome. Like, totally.

The problem is, I am a writer who wants to be published and I am a painter who desires to paint more and I am a person who desires to do these things as my living. Hence, the "fake job/ real job" distinction.

If I really want to be successful, then my arts must be my "real job." Knowing that I have this "real job" to come home to makes it all feel OK when I have to be gone to go to my "fake job" five days a week.

OK, so technically this isn't a problem. It's good that I know what I want and it's good that I have goals and that I am in touch with my creativity. But, it can still be hard.

I don't mean to complain either. I am grateful for my "fake job." In this economy where so many are losing jobs and feeling the burden of pay cuts, loss of benefits, etc., I know I am lucky. Fortunate. Blessed.

I guess that's why it can be so hard. I sometimes feel like wanting more for my life, wanting a more entrepreneurial existence is somehow selfish or greedy.

But it's not. My being happier and doing more of what I love is good for everyone. It's good for the world. And, if I accomplish the goal of living day to day from my "real job," then someone else gets my "fake job" for whom it might be very "real."

At our house, we just made the (very difficult) decision that Blisschick needed to quit her part time gig to stay home to work more on our "real job" stuff. Fake or not, my library job keeps me away from the house enough that it would be hard for me to work toward the goals I want to accomplish if I didn't have a lot of help. I am grateful to have a partner who is so willing and able to help me in addition to doing her own myriad things. We have an incredible symbiosis.

It is helpful, though when I feel frustrated or overwhelmed at the library to remind myself that I have other things in store for my life. As much as I love the library and the people there, it is still just my "fake job."

The job is not my life.

My artwork, my writing, my home and all the mammals within -- those things are my life.

Now if only we could get Miss Zoe to take on a little part time job...

It was definitely some bird's job to make a home in this tree.
I wonder how he felt about it?

Logos, Ethos, Pathos

Even when one studies at the feet of Miss Zoe's Great Wisdomosity,

one can still have Confusion.

So, I need your help.

Blisschick said to me the other day, "Frog," (she calls me Frog), "I think you need a new logo for your Etsy store."

It was a good point.

We hurried up to get our Etsy store, Ordinary Miracles, open right before the holidays, and because we hurried, which is our usual M.O. because we tend to be forgetful and do everything at the last minute, I drew a little rabbit on a moon logo to stick up for the time being.

But now, it's time to try to make a more permanent logo. Therefore, this weekend, while I was also working on a logo for a friend's blog as a birthday present (more on this logo to come later, as it's a present and MUST NOT BE REVEALED :) ), I thought I would try drawing a few things for myself.

So far, I have four ideas, which I drew and took pictures of. Here they are:

Number one:

Number two:

Number three:

Number four:

Time to vote. Tell me, honestly, which one(s) is (are) your fave.

Or, would you vote then all off the island and hope for a new one to wander onto the beach?

Come on. Be honest. I can take it.

A penny for your thoughts...

Me and My Shadow

Zoe clearly saw her shadow this morning.
She's still mystified and a bit disenchanted
by the concept of a holiday dedicated to a groundhog.
"Of all the animals..." she keeps muttering.

Happy Groundhog Day!!

We here in Pennsylvania are pretty proud of our weather predicting Hog. Though I always feel bad for him having to be dragged out of bed to have his cute belly exposed on national television. And, every year, we say, "Of course he saw his shadow! He's under all those lights from the TV cameras!"

Nevertheless, it's a fun holiday, and I like it.

One summer when I was little, we had a groundhog (we called him a "woodchuck" but they are the same thing-- they also go by the monikers "land beaver" and "whistle pig"), who would come into our yard every evening at dusk to munch our grass. He had one lame leg, maybe from a birth defect, maybe from an accident. Needless to say, he wasn't the fastest woodchuck on the block. We called him Woodrow.

My dad and I took to going out to sit in the yard near Woodrow each night when he would amble out from the field behind our yard for his evening repast. Each evening, the three of us inched a little closer and a little closer. Finally, one night, Woodrow let my dad give him a little pat. After a few days, my dad let me try. Groundhogs have really wicked teeth. If they went postal on you, you'd be in trouble. So, we took our time.

I'll never forget the feeling of his fur. Soft, yet course. He felt like a combination of a cat and a porcupine, if you can imagine such a combo. He looked right at me when I petted him. Right into my eyes. His eyes didn't looked scared. Maybe because he knew he was too slow to get away anyway.

But I like to think maybe he knew our intention was just to spend a little time with him and make a little connection with him.

We stopped petting him after a couple of days. We didn't want him to get freaked out, and we were worried his friends might see him hanging out with people and shun him. But we still enjoyed sitting out in the grass to watch him.

After that summer, we never saw him again. Perhaps he retired to Punxatawny?

Whatever the case, I have always felt honored by that experience. It's something I'll never forget.

As a totem animal (Blisschick butting in here), groundhogs are considered powerful but difficult. They are challenging us to enter more deeply into our subconscious. They are often the totem animals of shamans and mystics.

"Whatever!" Zoe said and rolled her eyes.

Let's all raise our glasses in a toast: "To the magical, mystical groundhog!"

Bottom's Up. Cheers to the Whistle Pig.