Rainbow Bridge

I"ll try to stick to my mission statement but I will admit there's

been way too much else to stand in the way of frippery.

Lots of sadness in and around the traps.

Massive earthquake in Nepal.

Two Australians executed alongside six others in Indonesia.

Lots of rigour at the chalkface.

 And, finally the house-muse is no more.

Here he is in better days, just sleeping.
After a bedtime story.

Last week the house-muse retired to the biggest poodle parlour in heaven.

Over the Rainbow Bridge.

That lovely soft euphemism that includes all pets

returning to their healthy state, trotting around with butterflies and birds.

Thank you for your kind thoughts.

I have been sad for days.

He was my constant for sixteen years and never disagreed with

a thing I said.

I liked him.
Nature permitted him nearly 18 years in total.

I went against good advice and gave my heart to a dog to tear.

It'll mend slowly.
I'll let it take its sweet time.

 Meanwhile, I finished off an orchid inspired and feather leaf headpiece.
Keeping occupied.
Thanks to the stunning blooms at the Orchid Society's Species Show.

 

 

 

 

The Power of the Dog

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie--
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart to a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find--it's your own affair--
But ... you've given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone--wherever it goes--for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-term loan is as bad as a long--
So why in--Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

Rudyard Kipling



 

 This has always been one of my favourite portraits, Coco Chanel

with a cream coloured poodle, by Impressionist Marie Laurencin.

 



 



Fiscal Sense: Ubermodel

 I must save myself at least $10,000 per day by doing my own modelling work.

I am now one of Flora's 'house models'.

A very late bloomer.

Not to mention not having hired help to tidy the House of Flora.

That's a saving, too.

Makes good fiscal sense.

 

 I mean, on some days, you wouldn't know where to start.

 I am still besotted by this little straw disc cocktail hat and feathered pom-poms.

I know.

It's as light as air.

 Have I won you over?

$90 AUD and I will spring for postage.

World-wide.

Make an enquiry if you would like the pom-poms in another colour.

I will see what I can do.

In less exciting news I have had to eschew cakes and their baking, taking up more walking.

 It's been as hot as Hades and I seem to the only person the slightest

bit concerned about sun-safety.

Whatever you do; wear sunscreen.

Do you care?

Stay lovely.



La fête nationale du 14 juillet

 I'll warn you now.

I don't usually go out on a school night.

But, I did last night.

 The lure of a fixed menu at Montrachet in Paddington got me.

And, Bastille Day.

Call me predictable.

I am nothing, if not a cliché.

 I decided to wear the needle heels.

I won't lie to you, I did kick them off as soon as I could.

 Before I left I tried to do a Bill Henson style shoot with the House Model.
Dark, moody and blurred.

 Who tried to get away from me every way he could.

 

 

 

 I didn't wear this Flora-one-of-a-Kind cocktail hat, as below.

But, I darn well should have.

 Slight resemblance?

 There's no food photos really because Mr Fascinata cannot get his head around that

type of frippery.

Apologies.

 You'll have to get there for yourself.

Did you do anything for the sake of Francophilia?