
Where did I go? Oh, right. There I am. When I start playing in Photoshop, I just never wanna stop. How many rectangles in this pic? You'd be insane to try to count, but it came out of a "I wonder what will happen if I just keep . . .ooh, neat, and well this is what happened. It was great fun, like mud pies when you're 4 years old and have just put on some clean white clothes.
In getting back to this post, I have been working on odds and ends. Like these happy tapes. For happy pants and other things happy.

And all while I've been finishing this, that and many tapes happy, someone small and soft and cuddly has been nappy.
And peaceful.
And when she finally awoke, it was the bunny that spoke and bestowed her a gift straight away.
Miss B decided that Peace Bunny would live here with us. These are my peace pals soon to be listed in the store. I have long been inspired by the simplicity of scrap dolls and it had been awhile since B and I had made one. So I made one and then two and I have three more on the way. Funny how when there is a bunny involved how quickly things begin to multiply. They're wonderful and fun and it was only after I had sewn bunny up and began to hug her that I realized she had been made without any arms to hug me back. Unarmed. Peace. Peace pals. I know it's corny, you'll have to forgive me, but it runs in the family you see. For once when I had traveled for months through Europe one of my stops was Czechoslovakia and when I returned my father declared me a "canceled Czech." badumbump. You see it really does run in the family. Bad puns, we just can't help ourselves. We've been gypped of the gene that helps control that sort of thing. I love all of the things that I have inherited from my father. No, no - he's still alive, it isn't like that at all. So what are some of those things? Lemme see, for one the ability to love deeply and unabashedly even though sometimes it hurts. Also, like this post, I can trail on and on and on and weave a yarn thick enough to warm the state of Minnesota, that's like my Dad. We can get on the phone and you would think we were girlfriends. Three hours later and what would have been a giant phone bill in the past, we hang up weeping and then smiling. This is my Dad. Yes, and the corny jokes that sometimes no one will laugh at. But us. *sigh* I love you, Dad. My goodness, this is really a bloggy journal sort of thing, isn't it?
Drop me a line, tell me a corny joke and what you love that you've inherited from your parents that no one might know but you. Peace, pals. Be back soon.