Tag Archives: art

Flat On My Back…

2 Sep

I feel old today…

http://tinylittlesandra.blogspot.com/2008/12/so-i-guess-its-about-time.html

I feel old because I hurt my back doing something, who knows what, maybe golf, gardening, sitting and editing too much. Either way now I’m on my back in bed with a cat that kicks me in his sleep and a back brace. I guess it’s called Sciatica and with this kind of pain, giving birth without an epidural is starting to sound good in comparison.

Anyhow, this really BITES.

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More International Interest – Turkey

15 Aug

On Friday I was made an offer to bring the Feather Book Series and Knight Angels Series to Turkey! I was very excited, and find the opportunity another unique advance in reaching the world with my stories! I haven’t yet signed any contracts, but plan to. The publisher is Artemis:

http://www.artemisyayinlari.com/

They have a lot of great titles, a beautiful site, and the chief editor is very nice!

Just another exciting opportunity!!

I Think I’m Turning Japanese? No, I Think I’m Turning French…

23 Jun

Well, at least that’s what I’ve been trying to do for the last week. I don’t know, you hear one Diana Krall song and you fall hopelessly end over end into the abyss that is french cafe`…

Allow me to elaborate.

Example One:

I made home-made Demi Glace`

Which requires also making Espagnole sauce…

Takes three hours, mind you…

Example Two:

Then, I took the Demi glace and made these delicious, tender little spare ribs with whipped potatoes, nothing better…

Example Three:

Wine

What more can I say? Even has a house on the label, and I’ve heard wine with a house means it’s good 😉

Example Four:

Diana Krall

 

Week At A Glance…

17 Jun

Once upon a time, I had a really busy week…

Six hours of driving got me here, wrapping three-ply TP around my friend to make a wedding dress. It was a competition, and I learned that I should have been a fashion designer…

After three hours of that and a few Champagne cocktails (ample time letting it wear off) I then got to the Ferry where it took me two hours (including waiting because of the UW Graduation at Safeco Field) to get to Seattle.

Needless to say, I crashed.

The next day, My friend and I spent ten hours at thrift stores looking for things for her condo. We managed to make this:

2$ worth of furniture and spray paint…

And this:

All the while, Hubby was at home making this:

Happy Garden Shed!

Because he made me this, I bought him this:

And then I went home. It was a good, LONG trip…

A Room Fit For A Pixie…

3 Jun

Once upon a time, there was a room…

 

It was a basement room where travelers once stayed, but after the travelers left to find a home of their own, the room sighed with loneliness and longing.

“I’ll fix you!” I exclaimed. “You will be fit for even the pickiest of guests! Even a Pixie!”

The room frowned, doubtful of my abilities to breathe life back into his lonely walls – his bare, dented being.

I just shook my head, using the room’s doubt to fuel my ambitions.

All day I worked, lathering the walls, scrubbing the floor. Soon, soft surfaces began to appear within his bare heart: fabrics, curtains, and plush pillows for warmth.

I saw the room grin, though he did not mean for me to see it. He did not want me to know that I was right – I could fix it!

When the work was done I stood back with a sigh, admiring the beauty of the rooms new heart.

 ♥

The room caved in. “Thank you,” he breathed happily, a glint of a giggle in the voice.

I nodded with satisfaction. It was indeed a room fit for the pickiest of Pixie’s…

My mother.

The Quail Egg and the Garden: A Story of a King

24 May

Growing impatient, Egg fell from the nest, rolling downhill until it came to a rest in a patch of soft grass.

Mother shrieked as she saw Egg roll, fluttering after Egg as branches and vines slapped against her face. “My egg!” she cried. “My egg!”

Father heard Mother and quickly ran from the lawn where he had been snacking, following Mother’s voice.

“Mother! Mother! What happened?” Father came upon Mother, the white speckled skin of Egg resting on a bed of old pine needles.

“He rolled right out of the nest!” She screamed.

Father gasped. “But why?” Father then noticed the disturbed Earth around him, the small forest of sweet smelling shoots growing in a precise pattern of rows.

Mother and Father looked to Egg, it’s crown still fastened upon it’s head. “You found a garden, Egg.”

Egg said nothing, sitting there with pride.

“But, Egg, you are too young to claim your first kingdom!”

Egg stood stubbornly on the spot.

Father fluffed his wings in thought before leaning close to Mother. “Mother, shall we allow him to become the King of his own garden?” he whispered discreetly.

Mother’s eyes were filled with apprehension, but what could she do? She did not posses the use of opposable thumbs, she could not possibly push egg back up the hill to the nest. Egg’s future was already made. “I don’t think we have a choice!” she murmured in a harsh, shaky tone.

Father looked back to Egg. “Then the Kingdom of Garden is yours, Egg.”

Egg remained silent and proud.

“King of the Garden,” father whispered to himself. “I’m so proud.”

Mother and Father left Egg to fend for himself, walking back up the hill where they were greeted with a cold, empty nest.

Bread Crumbs: If Only Hansel Had Listened to Gretel, Vol. 3

19 May

© Copyright Abra Ebner

In the woods, father led us in a direction we’d never been in before. We weaved over broken land and fern filled valleys where trails did not exist. When we’d walked for close to two hours he set us to work gathering kindling while he walked a ways back with his axe in hand. “I will be cutting over here.”

I waited until Father disappeared, not able to concentrate on the task I had been given. I heard his axe—Chop. Chop. Chop—the sound cooling my nerves.

He hadn’t left us.

 Hansel set to work, collecting a large pile of kindling, but as night fell, Father’s chopping never ceased.

 “Hansel, something’s wrong,” I at last announced, hearing a wolf’s cry not too far off.

Hansel stopped. His pile of kindling was so big I wondered how he proposed he’d ever get it home. This hadn’t made sense from the beginning, and it angered me that Hansel hadn’t questioned Father as I’d longed to. Why would Father take us two hours from home to collect wood when we could barely haul that wood two hours back? The mule had been sold, and the cart long since rotted.

“Nothing is wrong, Gretel. Keep collecting,” Hansel urged.

Something was definitely wrong, and I refused to let it slide. “No, Hansel. I think we should check on Father.” Dread lingered in the pit of my stomach like the the pebbled that led our way home. I would not quit until Hansel would listen.

Hansel sighed. “Fine.”

He huffed past me, taking big steps in the direction of our father’s axe.

Chop. Chop. Chop.

It was just as steady as it had been all day.

When we came upon the source of the sound I was horrified to see that Father’s axe had been tied to a branch with a yard of rope, the wind knocking it against the trunk until the tree had almost chopped right down.

“Hansel! It was a trick!” I admitted, seeing the obvious.

Hansel’s face crinkled. “No. No. No, Gretel. You’re wrong. Father likely grew tired and tied his axe here until tomorrow. He probably saw us working hard and didn’t want to interrupt, figuring we’d find our way home when we grew hungry.”

My stomach grumbled, but it did not shadow my doubt. Why couldn’t he see it? I rolled my eyes. “I don’t believe you. You’re being naïve,” I claimed, but Hansel had already made his way to the pebble trail and did not hear my objection.

I followed, wondering what his next excuse would be, and what the look on my Step Mother’s face would be like when we showed up—alive.

“Let’s hurry before it gets to dark,” Hansel added.

“We’re going to die,” I mumbled.

Once home, I saw Step Mother and Father through the window of the cottage, already eating dinner.

“They’ve started without us!” Hansel grumbled.

“I doubt they even expected us,” I added.

Hansel gave me a mean glare before opening the front door and we bounded in. Step Mother’s face told no lies. She was horrified. My father on the other hand looked far too relieved, but still, Hansel did not see it!

Step mother rose from her chair and ordered us to bed with no dinner, claiming we deserved none because we hadn’t hauled the wood home.

Yeah, right.

 

© Abra Ebner