Neat Freak, Part 3

The final chapter in the short story, "Neat Freak." I hope you've enjoyed it! Happy Hallowe'en!
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She knew where Todd had gotten the idea to drink from the container. Leave it to Jeremy to undermine her and justify his nasty habits.

Todd screwed the cap back on the milk and stuck it back in the fridge, in the wrong place.

Jamie came to stand next to her dad, a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

I can’t believe this, Peggy thought, just look at her face. She knows it’s dirty. She’s flaunting it in front of me because she knows her dad is here to protect her.

She put the phone back to her ear.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Perhaps you should—correct—the problem, Margaret,” suggested the neighbor. “Perhaps you’ve been too lenient with your family. When you’re done, you can go and feed the roses.”

“You’re right of course,” she answered pleasantly. Jeremy was watching her, still waiting for an answer about his dinner. She smiled at him, more a slight baring of her teeth than an expression of affection.

“Thank you for calling. I really needed to hear your voice,” she said warmly, her eyes pinned to her husband.

“My pleasure, my dear.” She hung up. Peggy gently put the phone back on the hook and turned to her family.

“Why don’t you go in the living room and watch TV, kids, and I’ll start dinner.

The kids went to the living room. She could hear the noise of cartoons blaring. Her headache’s pounding twisted up a painful notch.

Jeremy went back to the bar for a refill of scotch, leaving a condensation ring on her counter.

She stared at it. The pounding came harder. Her eyes were throbbing in time with the pounding.

She turned to the freezer, grabbed a package of frozen salmon he had caught that summer (leaving the tiny remainders of the entrails in her sink, she remembered). There were several salmon in the package. She weighed it in her hand and glared at the back of his head as he poured his scotch, leaving another condensation ring on her clean bar.

Yes. Salmon would do nicely for the whole family.

That evening, the neighbors didn’t wonder at the sound of the chipper in Peg’s beautiful yard, although they did shake their heads a little at the sound. She often worked in the yard after dinner. One or two wondered if she would ever lighten up and enjoy life a little, rather than working in her house all the time.

Later that evening, after the neighbors had gone to bed, the worms feasted.

Peg’s house was finally clean.


One Year Later

Jenny stood alone in the back yard, gazing at the wilting roses and listening to the drone of the real estate agent’s voice drifting through the window as she tried to gloss over the unfortunate incident which had happened here months ago. This was a state that enforced the full disclosure laws, and the woman, by golly, was going to spin it into a sale if she could.

“Well, she was unstable, Mr. Quint,” she explained to Jenny’s husband.

“Those roses used to be lovely,” a voice commented, cutting through the other woman’s grating patter. Jenny thought the voice was coming from behind the fence to her right. She glanced over, trying to see between the slats, but couldn’t catch a glimpse of whomever was talking to her.

“I’m sure they haven’t been fed in at least a year, since the house was last occupied,” the neighbor (she was sure it was a neighbor) continued.

Jenny shook her head sadly. “What a shame. They could be so beautiful!”

“Well, dear, they will when you move in and feed them what they need to grow and be beautiful again.” 

And just like that, Jennifer decided she would convince David to buy the house.

Neat Freak, Part 2

Part two.  If you're just tuning in to the story, go back to yesterday's entry to catch up! And again, feel free to observe copyright laws. Share the link to my blog if you enjoy the story!

Neat Freak, Part 2

Her mouth twisted downwards at the thought of diseases. One of the idiot neighbors once suggested she and Jeremy get a dog for the kids. She launched into a vehement lecture on what foul, dirty creatures they were, how they carried all manner of disease. She was so vehement, in fact, that the neighbor looked horrified. Peggy was sure it was because now he knew that the dog in his own home was a hazard, a bio-hazard, and he would certainly have to get rid of it, if not put it down for good. After all, the ignorant ass had children of his own. It was his duty as a father to protect them from infection!

After she scrubbed the entire counter (and the oven, the floor, the refrigerator and the kitchen table, too, for obvious reasons), she was dripping with the sweat of her efforts. With a satisfied sigh, she stepped into the living room. She stopped short and nearly shrieked with anger.

There were footprints on her white carpet.

Mind you, the footprints weren’t black with dirt, but the pristine pattern left by her vacuum cleaner was ruined. She conscientiously vacuumed every day (sometimes twice) to eradicate dust mites, knowing the tiny aliens were nothing but trouble. Snarling to herself, she stormed to the utility closet and brought out the vacuum. It was one of these cyclone models, with the clear bin so you didn’t have to touch the dirt. She would dump the dirt in the compost pile afterward, thereby making the dirt useful to her precious roses. As she vacuumed, frantic with the need to erase all traces of her family from the room, she made little noises of anger and frustration. Didn’t they understand how much effort it took to clean up after them? Didn’t they appreciate all her hard work?

She stopped, the metallic whine of the vacuum’s motor a comforting drone of cleanliness waiting to happen. No. It was obvious they didn’t, the ungrateful pigs. They were slobs, all of them, just living to make work for her so she couldn’t spend time with her roses. And Jeremy, husband and ringleader, mocking her to the children behind her back. She just knew he did.

She resumed her frantic vacuuming, anger making each pass more energetic.

After she had dumped the clear plastic bin into her compost pile several times (she had vacuumed the entire 2,550 square foot house just for good measure), as well as dumping out the kitchen waste into the vermicompost bins for her darling worms (so tidy, so efficient at cleaning up that nasty waste), she stole a quick moment with her roses. The sweat on her body cooled in the gentle breeze.

A tender smile spread across her face as she took in their sweet, heady scent, reminding her of her mother’s perfume. Her mother was neat and tidy, too. She was married to a military man who demanded his house be kept as neat as a military barracks, and by God, Mother did.

It had taken Peggy years to understand what an ungrateful little beast she had been growing up, leaving messes for her poor mother to clean. In fact, she couldn’t remember being so passionate about housework until she moved into this house, and had to manage her own two ungrateful little beasts.

She caressed a velvet rose petal. The children were clearly hard cases, and Jeremy was too easy on them. She must find a way to make them see the light. She spun on her heel and, regretful at leaving her roses, resolutely stalked back into the house to continue her routine.

Their rooms were a deplorable mess, as usual. She put everything away in their places (order. She must have order here), then moved through the house, picking up and dusting until the house looked just like a model home, like the house she grew up in. Looking like nobody lived there but her. She savored the thought for a sweet moment.

The front door banged open.

“Mom! We’re home!”

“Wipe your feet!” she shrieked as she came around the corner, “They’re dirty!”

Leave it to them to spoil a perfect, solitary moment.

Jeremy came in behind them (was he home already? Where had the day gone? She still had the bathrooms to clean), tracking in a leaf from the driveway and carelessly crushing it into her carpet. The kids had ignored her, as usual, and had run up to their rooms to destroy the perfection she had attained there. Her face hardened.

Jeremy tossed his keys on the kitchen counter (not in the special dish on the sideboard she had bought for that express purpose), and dropped his briefcase on the floor. He kicked off his shoes and left them where they fell in the middle of the kitchen, and went to mix himself a drink from the bar. A headache started behind her eyes, sharp at first, then settling down into steady pounding.

I will not scream, she thought. I will not. She was speechless with anger at his (their, face it, it was all of them) carelessness.

He took a swig of his drink and went to scrounge through her immaculate refrigerator, destroying the orderly rows of jars and food she had so painstakingly rearranged this morning, after emptying the entire thing and giving it a good scrubbing.

The phone rang. She answered. It was her neighbor. Peg smiled slightly, dreamily, listening to her voice praising her clean house and beautiful roses.

Jeremy turned to her. “What’s for dinner, Peg?” he asked. “I didn’t see that you took anything out for dinner.” It was just like him to demand her attention while she was on the phone with someone else.

The kids had come back downstairs, wearing their house clothes (she was sure threw their school clothes all over their rooms and just left them there).

“I saw them come home, Margaret.” The neighbor had always called her by her true name, not her nickname. “They’re making a mess of the house, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” she answered in a shaking whisper. Peg’s headache intensified.

She watched as Todd reached past his dad and grabbed the milk container, unscrewed the top and started to drink from it.

“Todd!” she screamed, holding the phone away from her ear, “Don’t you dare drink from that container! Do you have any idea how germy your mouth is? Do you?”

“C’mon Peg. Lighten up on him. He’s just being a kid,” Jeremy told her.

Peg schooled her face into a mask of calm. Jeremy never used her given name.

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Tune in for Part Three tomorrow!

Neat Freak, Part 1

About a year ago, I wrote a short story for Hauntcast Magazine, and I thought I'd share it with you. If you like it, please feel free to share the link to my blog so others can read it. I only ask that out of courtesy and common decency, you observe copyright laws, o.k.?

So here goes!

Neat Freak

The front door slammed, the noise symbolizing a few hours of peace for her. The kids, Jamie and Todd, were off to school and her husband, Jeremy, would be on his way to work after dropping them off. Peggy sighed with relief and went about her routine of restoring order to her home.

She started in the kitchen, with the dishes. She scraped the usable waste into an airtight container for her compost pile, and then started washing up. She stood at the sink; her hands were encased in thick, heavy-duty blue latex gloves. She was up to her elbows in scalding water and soap bubbles, looking out the window into the back yard. Her prize roses were in riotous bloom, reminding her of the first time she saw them, back when they first looked at the house with their realtor.

She had wandered, alone, into the garden, and noticed the roses right away. They were neglected back then, wilting slightly and covered with aphids. Her heart went out to them. Roses were her favorite flower.

“Those roses used to be lovely,” a voice commented. She thought the voice was coming from behind the fence to her right. She glanced over, trying to see between the slats, but couldn’t catch a glimpse of whomever was talking to her.

“I’m sure they haven’t been fed in at least a year, since the house was last occupied,” the neighbor (she was sure it was a neighbor) continued.

Peggy shook her head sadly. “What a shame. They could be so beautiful!”

“Well, dear, they will when you move in and feed them what they need to grow and be beautiful again.”

And just like that, she decided she would convince Jeremy to buy the house.

As she stood at the sink, washing her dishes and gazing through the window, it occurred to her she hadn’t yet met that neighbor, though the neighbor called from time to time on the phone to discuss—what, exactly? She couldn’t precisely remember, but she seemed to recall an overall sense of approval from the neighbor for her attention to her household cleaning routine and of course, the feeding and care of the roses. Anyway, Peggy was much too busy cleaning right now to go over for a visit.

Her mind whispered, It’s been four months since you’ve moved in. Surely you can leave the house, now?

She ignored it and looked out her window again, her gloved hands viciously scrubbing.

The children’s toys were everywhere, as usual. It seemed that no matter how many times she told them to put things away, to clean up after themselves, try to be neat for the good Lord’s sake, they never did. Jamie was 10, and should be able to clean up after herself by now, but she would not. Worse, she encouraged Todd, who was 7, to follow in her footsteps. Peggy’s jaw tightened. Was it too much to ask for them to tidy up? To stop making so much work for her?

In the corner of the yard was Peggy’s compost bin, the one she used for dead leaves and grass. Next to it sat the bins she used for vermicomposting, or composting using worms to break down the waste. People who knew Peggy were surprised that she would be interested in composting at all, since she was a notorious neat freak. But Peggy liked the idea of trash and waste being broken down into the nutrients she could use for her prize roses. She liked the idea so much she had Jeremy buy her a wood chipper with a “fine” setting to get her branches and larger garden waste to neat and tidy little piles to put in her bins. The smaller the pieces, the faster the compost, and the bigger the blooms on her roses. She idly wondered if it was time to add some new waste material to her piles.

She finished the dishes and stacked them neatly in the dishwasher. Jeremy always teased her about washing the dishes (with soap and burning hot water!) before putting them in her brand new dishwasher, but she wouldn’t listen to his remarks. After all, who knew how many germs were left if you just put the dishes in the dishwasher?

She looked up and noticed the counter had a few crumbs on it. Her jaw tightened again and she made a disgusted noise. Under the sink was her can of cleanser (With Bleach and Other Whitening Agents! the label screamed). She pulled it and a new scrub pad out, removed the wrapping on the pad and carefully disposed of it in the new trash compactor. As she did, she noticed she was running low on scrub pads. Jeremy complained that she didn’t need to use a new one every day, that it was wasteful, but she knew better. Hadn’t she seen the news show the other day about how many nasty germs lived in them? They were filthy breeding grounds for who knew how many as-yet undiscovered diseases.

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That's part one, kids! Tune in for part two tomorrow!

Grim, Grinning Ghosts

I posted this a couple of years ago, but it's worth a re-post, for certain!

Grim, Grinning Ghosts, played on a 1920 Moller Pipe Organ.

Click on the pic to watch!

And a Couple More...

A couple of new additions to the ShellHawk's Creations Etsy store!

I thought I'd try my hand at cake stands, and I got a very good response about them from the folks at Halloween and Vine! I think these will be back next year!

New Offerings!

 New in the ShellHawk's Creations Etsy store! Hurry to get it in time for Hallowe'en!

Flashback: Paris Catacombs

I always say I'm going to do a catacomb theme, inspired by our trip to the Paris Catacombs, but I always run out of time.

Still, it would be a really cool display theme...

Open House and New Family

Well, kids, it's here! The day of my Open House for ShellHawk's Creations. With everything that's been going on, I'm stunned that it's here already! I haven't even had the time to take pictures of everything, but I'm hoping to snap a few before people start arriving.

 It's been rough around the house without Josey. Not only do we miss her, but the dogs miss her, too. Sam has decided that since she's not around to play with him anymore, that Gromit should fill in. Gromit can't, because his knees are bad and he's just too old.

For those of you who know German Shepherds, you know that they don't really care what you've decided, they are, by God, going to get their way.

So it is with Sam.

He's developed a new game. Stand on top of Gromit with a ball in his mouth. Drop ball on Gromit's head. Watch ball roll off. Chase ball. Grab ball. Repeat from start.

After about ten minutes of this, Gromit looked around at us as if to say, "Seriously? Really, you have to help me."

Mr. ShellHawk and I had a heart to heart about it. Gromit is older than Josey, around twelve or thirteen years old. We don't expect him to last more than another year, and we came to the conclusion that we don't want his last year to be miserable because of Shepherd torture. Whether we were ready or not, we needed a new dog. And believe me, we are under no illusions that we're emotionally ready for a new pup. We are not.

Even so, the search started. I emailed my breeder, but didn't hear back from her. I checked local German Shepherd Rescues, but didn't see a suitable dog. We ended up where we began, ten years ago, with Josey: Westside German Shepherd Rescue.

Mr. ShellHawk drove down to Moorpark, which is in Southern California, to pick up the new girl, in spite of the fact that he's exhausted from a lot of travel. And here she is:

Meet Coda.

co·da

 noun \ˈkō-də\

: an ending part of a piece of music or a work of literature or drama that is separate from the earlier parts

: something that ends and completes something else

God help us. We're back to puppy-proofing for a German Shredder (a nickname for German Shepherds, along with "German Shedder"). *sigh*

Saturday Morning Cartoons-The Halloween Years

What's Saturday morning without cartoons? Click on the pic to watch.

Sorry I haven't been posting as much this week. Many things going on, which I'll share with you soon!

The Open House is tomorrow, which is the last "live" time to see all my Hallowe'en offerings in one place. Mr. ShellHawk slipped out of town on a special Mission of Mercy and will be home tonight to help, but meanwhile, I'm sweating the time I have left and all the things that need doing!

Oh, and next week, there will be some writings to read...

Vintage Halloween

I love the old Max Fleischer cartoons!

Click on the pic to watch!

The Skeleton Dance

You really can't have Halloween without this wonderful old cartoon!

Click on the pic to watch.

Aftermath

I know how you're feeling, lady.

It's been a few days since Josey left us, and the tears, while still coming, are coming slightly less frequently. Things neglected while dealing with the days leading up to her death are slowly making themselves known and the reigns of life are reluctantly being grasped again, albeit in somewhat indifferent hands.

I had plans to change the haunt this year, which may or may not happen. Fortunately, my concept was fairly simple and if I decide to get it done, it won't be overly hard to do.

Stewie is in his customary place in the front yard, but is in need of repair. He is, after all, only paper pache, shop towels and carpet glue, and was really not meant to last for this long--five years, now! Some of the blue of the shop towels are starting to show, but of course, only in the daylight. I may or may not get around to repairing him. My heart just isn't in it right now.

The premier of Halloween Home Haunts is at Heartstoppers Haunted House this weekend, and I will be in attendance. I may even hit Preston Castle on Friday night, to see my friend Cory of Nightmare Playgrounds do his scariest.

Then, of course, I have my Open House on Sunday, so Saturday will be spent getting ready for that. I have some ornaments and plates to finish up this week, which won't take long, and one last Raku firing to get some jacks finished up for then.

Life goes on, as they say.

The Worst Day Since Yesterday

It's been a bitch of a week here at the Nest. Sorry for the language, but I really can't put it any other way.

In spite of the promise of fun and excitement for my very first appearance on TV on Sac and Co., real life intruded with a gut punch, which started last week. This week, the hits just kept coming and have left me beat up all over.

One of our older German Shepherds, Josey, started to refuse her food last week. Since she's been a picky eater all her life, this wasn't unusual. But then a day turned into two, then three, and she started even to refuse turkey lunch meat and bacon.

When a dog refuses bacon, you know something is seriously wrong.

Josey with my idiot but loving lab, Gromit

If you're a dog owner, you probably see where this is going.

We took her to the vet who did bloodwork and took x-rays. We took her home. We got a call to bring her back the next day for an ultrasound. Ultrasound inconclusive, vet says take her to someone better at ultrasound than she was. We took her to the small animal emergency clinic at U.C. Davis, which is also a teaching veterinary clinic with many machines that go, ping!

Actually at this point, it was I who took her to Davis, as Mr. ShellHawk had no choice but to go out of town for the weekend to teach a class in L.A. He couldn't cancel, and there was no one else to teach it. He said his goodbyes to her when he left, since we both had a bad feeling that she wasn't going to make it through whatever was going wrong.

Sam, playing with his favorite dog, Josey, when he was a little guy.

The doctor recommended I leave her overnight so more tests could be done, the first being an ultrasound. I didn't want to leave her, but I knew that with her listlessness and continuing refusal to eat, it would be best. 

Josey, keeping an eye on the interloper in the first week or so we had Sam.

 

I got a call later that afternoon. It turns out that Josey had advanced stomach cancer.

To say that it was a shock is to make a huge understatement. If you had seen her in the days before she stopped eating, you would have seen her tearing around the back yard with Sam and Gromit, looking as carefree as a dog can look.

Stomach cancer? Advanced stomach cancer? WTF? She had given us no indication that she had any kind of problems other than becoming a little old lady with some arthritis issues.

I've read several times that this is the problem with GSDs. The breed, as a whole, is a stoic one, and generally won't tell you they're hurting.

The head-tilt for which German Shepherds are famous, in stereo, no less!

Mr. ShellHawk and I had to have a serious, come-to-Jesus conversation about what was to be done. Given that she was almost twelve years old, and that there was no doubt that the cancer was terminal, and that trying to extend her life for a month with a poor quality of life would be just flat out cruel, we opted to let her go.

So yesterday, I headed into work for a while to get a few things done, and left from there to go to the TV station. After that, it was time to head over to Davis and deal with the heartbreak of euthanizing my best girl. I insisted on being there with her, and had some private last moments with her before the doctor came in. When they brought her in and she saw me, she wagged her tail as best she could and then flung herself down on the fleece mat the hospital had provided for her. If ever an animal could tell you that they were done and ready to go, she was telling me loud and clear.

The doctor, himself, was the best man for it. He had given her a combination of painkillers and an opiate to make her comfortable. He was gentle and kind, and she was gone very quickly.

 

Mr. ShellHawk wrote this about her on his Facebook page yesterday:

Ten years ago, almost to the day, we were asked by German Shepherd Rescue if we would like to rescue an adult female German Shepherd who had been chained to a post in the back yard of a house and had been left there by the owners who packed up and moved. After literally stopping the euthanasia, we got Josey 2 weeks later; she was about 1.5 years old and weighed a total of 43 lbs, she had weighed 35 lbs. when they took her from the back yard. I would like to thank those bastards that left her there because she spent the next 10 years helping bring normality to our crazy life, healing past wounds, and bringing Shelley and I great joy. We lost our girl today to cancer. The attached photo is one that was sent to me many times over the years by Shell, it’s the “Tragic Shepherd” text, asking when dad was coming home. I will miss those texts.

Thanks to everyone that has been so supportive through this. She went quickly and peacefully thanks to Shell and some great doctors at UC Davis.

Yesterday was an even worse day for Mr. ShellHawk, as it was the anniversary of his beloved mother's death. To say it's been a bitch of a week is to tell the absolute truth.

Josey was such a huge part of our lives. She was awesome with kids and could be trusted with the smallest infant. I remember that when my nephew was a baby and would cry, she would rush over to lick his face to try and soothe him, all the while looking over at us as if to say, "Something's going on, here! Come and help this little fur-less puppy!"

As I sit here writing this in my usual spot on the couch, there is an empty space next to me where she used to park herself while I puttered on my laptop. I saw her empty dish this morning and burst into tears.

I will miss her in more ways than I can count.

It is truly the worst day since yesterday.

In the Know: Has Halloween Become Over-Commercialized? A ShellHawk's Nest Tradition

Click on the pic for a ShellHawk's Nest tradition!

Remember: Frightening away demons is the reason for the season!

New in the Shop!

New jack-o'-lanterns in the ShellHawk's Creations Etsy Store!

So... Um... Famous Again... Sort Of...

So, like, I'm on local television this Friday during the 11:00A.M. Pacific Time hour.

Sacramento and Company is having Jonathan Morken of Apprehensive Films on to promote Halloween Home Haunts DVD that came out last month, and he invited me to join him on the show! Why? Because I'm in the film. Or do I say, "On the DVD"? I'm not sure. But there it is!

So, this is live TV, and all I can think of is, "Wow. I can make a complete ass of myself in front of a live TV audience! What a great opportunity!"

OK, it's because I'm a (not-so) latent attention whore.

Crazy, I know, but there it is. And? You should totally find out where you can see this film. It's gotten great reviews, and if you want to get an inside look at folks who haunt, this is a fun chance to do so!

And, incidentally, my fifteen minutes is up around twenty or so...

Tales of the Frightened

Who in the Halloween community doesn't love Boris Karloff? His career as a horror movie icon continues to inspire many haunters in their prop building, and his voice inspires us to shivers!

Take his radio series, "Tales of the Frightened." These were little five-minute stories of horror, eventually made into compilations on LP. Some of you may have been lucky enough to have these as kids, although I, myself, missed them. (I was able to pick up an album at a vintage record store, however!) Yes, the stories are simple and cheesy by today's standards, but his voice enveloped you and made you part of the fright!

You can listen to one via YouTube here, or you can listen to a bunch of them and get some more interesting history at the Internet Archive, under audio Boris Karloff Tales of the Frightened.

In case you haven't noticed, I absolutely love these old albums that allow us to sit and listen to a story, to imagine the settings and characters. It allows us, in this frenetic age, to be still for a little bit, and to focus on one thing.

And, of course, to be frightened!

Halloween at High Noon

Of course, Rot was the one who turned me on to Halloween at High Noon.

Click on the witch's hand to listen to a playlist of Halloween at High Noon

It's sort of dark ambient music, I suppose you'd say. Their new album, Halloween at High Noon: Way of the Wicked, has been playing almost nonstop in my car to and from work. Then it plays in the studio, along with other faves, while I'm working.

They really bring the season along nicely!

Alfred Hitchcock Presents Ghost Stories for Young People

Back in the day, this is how kids got their scare on! I feel sorry for the ones today who have no idea what the click and pop sounds are on these tracks!

Click on the pic to hear the playlist, and click, "Play All."

I about wore the album out when I was a kid. It prepped me for "The Birds." :D

By the Way...

If you're new to this blog because you're a seasonal lurker, you might cast your eye down the right sidebar.

Underneath the Halloween Countdown Halloween Tree is a box filled with Halloween goodies that you may want to check out. Books and videos are great things to have this time of year, aren't they?

Saturday Morning (Halloween) Cartoon

Let's see how many horror icons you can identify in this cartoon...

Click on the pic to watch!

Halloween and Vine: Long Overdue Post!

This pic represents 99% of the artists and their helpers at Halloween and Vine.
Fine, good-looking bunch, eh? :)

I should have posted this Monday, but you know how it goes! The frantic, seasonal run from one task, to the next and the next after that. Posting to Etsy takes awhile, what with taking pics and resizing them, etc., etc.

Anyway!

The weekend started out with setup, then a quick check-in to the hotel (plus a quickly-slammed Lemon Drop), then back to Hermann Sons Hall for the Artist's Reception dinner. We had but one task: make a centerpiece with what was on the table or the room (and eat and drink!).... We did. It was a fun ice-breaker!

Mr. ShellHawk even joined in!

The next day was nerves before the opening, but the group photo op loosened us up and got us united!

 Mr. ShellHawk helped to arrange the stock, and since he has a good eye for form and color, I let him go to town with that!

He did a really great job setting up and in helping me to run the booth. I was so grateful, especially considering he has a stressful "real job" to think about right now! 

Yes, I'm making cake plates. Keep an eye on the store for more!

The show itself was well-organized and just fantastic! I am so glad I was included in this wonderful group of very, very talented artists! Especially Chicken Lips!

His booth was so full at the beginning of the day, and nearly empty at the end! I was so glad for him!

I got to meet Melissa Valeriotte, too. She is a fun and sweet woman, as well as dedicated to her art! Check out her darling critters:

It's going to be a blast, going next year. I can't wait. I mean, art and Hallowe'en? What an awesome marriage!

The Black Halloween

I haven't posted this for years! So glad I found it again!

Click on the pic to watch!