So I know that you are all immensely intrigued by my title & picture up there. You're probably wondering 'why in the heck is she blogging about a stinkin' pot on a crafts website?! '
Well the answer is simple. I suck at this. Seriously! I don't blog very often. When I do, I tend to ramble, a lot. I can never seem to write about things related to what I'm working on or what arty things I've done.
Truth be told, I'm pretty boring. It's a fact & I know it. I am comfortable with it. I have come to embrace it & am occasionally comforted by it. It does sadden me to think that my poor children are burdened with mom who is not an Olympic athlete (or athletic in any way), marginally talented singer, super spy or busy even. But I get over those feelings rather quickly when I see my Chicken dancing for no reason or my Squab texts me a picture of him being absolutely ridiculous.
Okay, back to Quincy. Yes, I named my pot. I also named my van, the lamp in my CoW (remember the Cave of Wonder?), my cats... The point is, I randomly name things that have meaning to me. Like Quincy.
You see, I love to cook. Cooking helps soothe my soul. I can ease my pain, or cause it when I don't pay attention. I like to cook for people. Lots of people. I credit the way I was raised. My parents' hearts are full of Aloha & they were always adopting people & inviting them over. It wasn't until I was a teen that I really started to take over the cooking duties, but I have loved to cook since that first box of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese that I 'made' (thank you Mum!) when I was three.
You know what, this is getting long. I think I'll break it up into at least two parts. If I can keep my rambles shortish. Tune in immediately after this post for the next installment. Because I am that good. ;)
Hugs!
~Clare
Well the answer is simple. I suck at this. Seriously! I don't blog very often. When I do, I tend to ramble, a lot. I can never seem to write about things related to what I'm working on or what arty things I've done.
Truth be told, I'm pretty boring. It's a fact & I know it. I am comfortable with it. I have come to embrace it & am occasionally comforted by it. It does sadden me to think that my poor children are burdened with mom who is not an Olympic athlete (or athletic in any way), marginally talented singer, super spy or busy even. But I get over those feelings rather quickly when I see my Chicken dancing for no reason or my Squab texts me a picture of him being absolutely ridiculous.
Okay, back to Quincy. Yes, I named my pot. I also named my van, the lamp in my CoW (remember the Cave of Wonder?), my cats... The point is, I randomly name things that have meaning to me. Like Quincy.
You see, I love to cook. Cooking helps soothe my soul. I can ease my pain, or cause it when I don't pay attention. I like to cook for people. Lots of people. I credit the way I was raised. My parents' hearts are full of Aloha & they were always adopting people & inviting them over. It wasn't until I was a teen that I really started to take over the cooking duties, but I have loved to cook since that first box of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese that I 'made' (thank you Mum!) when I was three.
You know what, this is getting long. I think I'll break it up into at least two parts. If I can keep my rambles shortish. Tune in immediately after this post for the next installment. Because I am that good. ;)
Hugs!
~Clare
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