The Magical World of Shrinky Dinks!

Yesterday was between 18 and 2o degrees Fahrenheit here in Erie, Pennsylvania. But, as I am so completely tired of riding the bus to work, I broke out my bike, Captain Janeway, for the ride to the Library.

My bike, Captain Janeway, the coolest bike on the planet.

Why do I mention this, you ask? Why do you care how I get to work?

Well, you probably don't care. But, in light of last Friday's post, where I shared some of my "collections" (i.e. my cat whiskers and found-on-road dolls), I felt like it would be prudent to share today's find from my ride home:

Would you call her two faced?
Or, is she just cracking a smile?
Poor thing.

But, that's not what I really want to write about today. (I think I just heard Miss Zoe sigh with relief.)

"Yes, what a relief that we're not going to discuss
dirty things found on the side of the road.
Now, who has my morning banana chip?"

No, in fact what I wanted to write about is this:

I need your help. Again.

I know, I know, you're probably getting tired of me asking questions. Well, I've really only asked the one. You know, about my logo. And I got so many great comments, that I thought I'd ask some more stuff.

So, here it goes.

A couple of days ago, I got a commission to make a new milagro pendant. A stomach. With intestines. Very cool.

I am thrilled about the commission. I love to draw guts and body parts. I never knew that about myself until recently.

(Don't worry-- I'm working up to the question. Were you wondering? I thought since Zoe was taping her nails on the writing table, that you might be, too.)

And, of course, I make my pendants with Shrinky Dinks. Shrinky Dinks are the best, aren't they? I have so many great childhood memories with Shrinky Dinks. And the Easy Bake Oven. And the Play-Doh pasta making thingie (remember that?). OK, enough reminiscing.

As you may well know, Shrinky Dinks come in sheets. And a stomach with attached intestines is really only going to take up a small portion of one sheet.

Here's where you come in.

Blisschick has been urging me for some time now to make animal milagros as memorials. Great idea, Blisschick.

What animals should I make? I mean, I know what Miss Zoe and Miss Lilly would say, but what are your thoughts?

Should these animals bear little wings like angels, or should they just be the animals themselves with no frills or additions?

Also, besides animals and body parts, milagros cover a lot of territory.

What other ideas for helpful milagros might you have? Remember, they are for helping with anything. They are little talismans (talismen?) intended to focus your intentions and help you through difficult periods in your life or the life of someone you love.

Any ideas? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

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.