Sunday, April 21, 2019


Happy Easter everyone! While some of you are with family or eating jelly beans or looking for colorful eggs, Yours Truly is sitting on the couch in her underwear. This is how I roll. Enough about me, let's focus on me:

I think I may be “getting somewhere” with my comic! It’s a mixed bag, mind you. New followers have slowed down considerably. (I know. I know. I gotta get busy with The Plan). Yet, there are a few things that excite me GREATLY! Whether they excite anyone else is beyond me. But let me share –

Heckies if I know! I have no idea if anything is lost in translation, but how cool is THIS?! The buns speak multiple languages!

Contact info here:

Turns out Sammy was a 2016 meme.



My first cease and desist opportunity!

Dammit, Jim!
They left out the punchline!

Some folks have brought to my attention that Sammy plays the tuba. Yes. Yes he does.
I mean, he also plays the bagpipes, paints, is a mime, etc. Samuel L. Jackson is a regular Renaissance Rabbit.

Lower brass aficionados, however, know that Sammy plays various tubas. Although he prefers a Miraphone 4 flat-valved Bbb, he makes do with the 3 rotary valve *cough*Yamaha*cough*. Of course, where would any rabbit be without a sousaphone? (Band geek talk is so sexy).

Coincidentally, as fate would have it, I played all of the above! Sans bagpipes – instead I had a piston/rotor contrabass G bugle. Take THAT, Sammy!

Here is Sammy in all his glory and his – umm – inspiration.


Rehearsing in the High School Theatre
with 4 Valve Miraphone.


Don't I look tired?
Blame Mr. Lehrer: Band Director

Honestly, I loved it. So much so that I commemorated those times in my flesh:

My  tattoo

My tattoo on Facebook.
And said Band Director!

I have grown to appreciate this man wholeheartedly. If ever you have been in marching band, you understand. Of course, do NOT ask him about my very first show whereas I bungled stopping at the 50. On film. Replayed. In front of the entire band. *ahem*
[He just stared at me and said nothing] *ahem again*
What happens in the band room
I share on social media for likes.


To think I now have bingo arms and get winded getting off the couch. And you know as well as That Lady does, Sir Samuel will NOT be outdone:

So there you have it. Sammy's musical history sans bagpipes. If you made it this far, here is one especially for you:

Snow Rising!

Does anyone else see an "Fu"?

Thursday, April 4, 2019


It sounds ominous, doesn’t it? Well, for someone coupled with anxiety AND laziness, it IS.
I have decided to FINALLY put some things into motion. If truth be told, I decided that some years ago but hey. I am going to write a list. I am going to DO the things on the to-do list.

I. Pay my taxes.
That’s right. I’m an adult and every April I am forced to adult the crap out of my finances. I have until the 15th for said adulting.

Well, technically it didn't happen TODAY.

II. Take complete control over my currently non-existent store.

Obviously, this partnership thing is NOT going to work. I should have known via my experiences with high school group projects. Things don’t change much as you near 35 years post-graduation. Come to think of it, higher education was much the same way. Hecks, the work-a-day world is the same way!

A ) Taking control means:
1. Taking my meds
2. Learning an unfamiliar platform
3. Learning an unfamiliar “store” platform
4. Learning to feed my products INTO said unfamiliar store found on an unfamiliar platform.
5. Taking my meds

III. I think I WILL do a newsletter!
*ahem* again

THOSE are my 3 immediate goals.
I already know how the printing will work AND –

 –wait for it –

There will be international shipping that won’t kill any of our pockets.
So prints, mugs and some shirts to start!

It’s going to be a bumpy night for a bit but I’m almost 55 and will be needing a gold-plated walker with dangling pine tree air fresheners hanging on it soon.

If truth be told, I feel almost ancient in a sea of comic-drawing internet youth. There. I said it.
However, isn’t it always the ancient ones who command wisdom and can conjure fireballs to throw at the young whippersnappers?

But let me lay some biggly truthiness on my rabbity folk:
I’m just getting started.


PS. Make sure to grab the current issue of BunnyZine! Download for FREE.
And it's REALLY Free -- not click-through-until-you-need-to-pay free.
Yours Truly is featured in this issue with an artsy interview! Also,  Bad Bun Sammy sharing the front cover with three other artists (Betsy Aschacher, Diana Moll and Yollie Boag ).

Thursday, March 7, 2019

A new Year!

I realize it is March, but I am making my new year entrance with the Mad March Hare.
Time just keeps rolling by whether we want it to or not. To catch you up on things:
  • I am still having my daily existential crisis.
  • I am currently chasing a ghost.
That pretty much sums it all up. And to be any more cryptic I would probably have to write in hieroglyphics. Or a comic. Stay tuned.

I decided to begin my year with a self-portrait. I was taught that all artists should do self-portraits and should update them. I am not sure of the master artist that came up with that gem but having to stare at myself for as long as I had to was a little less than glib.


I started with a vector illustration. I consider it a warm up. In this, I portray my "mythology" (how I fantasize myself to be) ala Art Deco. The stars are the RABBIT constellation. The moon is in the CRONE phase.
I am always amused when people find out my age and say things like, "I thought you were YOUNGER." No. I am not. I am an old crotchety curmudgeon of a lady.

For you whippersnappers out there -- just know that there IS better ahead. There are stories to tell. And it is NEVER too late to begin again or start something new. Listen to me, I'm old and wise.

The past matters not, and the future does not exist. All “histories" are merely stories of mind, dreams of consciousness, imaginings from biased memories, and tainted reflections from biased egos who choose to project their so-called beliefs and their false sense of a personal self onto their present moment perception.All are false.Only the here and now is real—but only when it's untainted by the dreaming mind.When we peacefully abide in the infinite abundance of our choiceless awareness, we embrace the Eternal Now with our True Self.
Ink and Color Pencil on Dura-Lar

The printed proof arrived today!

Aaaaaaand Lance is unimpressed.

Until next time!

Sunday, December 2, 2018

Pew! Pew!

noun: abscess; plural noun: abscesses
a swollen area within body tissue, containing an accumulation of pus.

synonyms: ulcer, ulceration, cyst, boil, blister, sore, pustule, carbuncle, pimple, wen, whitlow, canker;
inflammation, infection, eruption

In July, I lost Russette. In July, someone dumped more than a dozen rabbits in a local metro park. The story got this little blurb:

Maybe it was the vulnerability, maybe it was an actual ounce of kindness in my cold cold heart – either way, I jaunted on down to the Humane Society to see if I might lend a hand. And yes, there were over a dozen rabbits abandoned and now the females were housed in a giant pen in the middle of the Humane Society's lobby. Well, they were pretty sure they were all females. (They weren't).

I Googled "Sly Guys" and this is what popped up. In fact, every male rabbit I sexed HAD that exact look on his face. But seriously, have you ever looked at Google Assistant's logo?

I mean ...

Anyhoo ...
The rabbits were all English Spots in some way shape or form. Some were REWs. Some had the tell-tale spots. Some were quite a mix. Some had scarring where tags had been ripped out of their ears.

There were two in particular. Two that picked me.
"It's WAYYYY too soon," I told myself.
Fred (the other human) said, "As soon as I saw the article I knew we would be bringing home rabbits."
I couldn't help it. I picked one.
I picked TWO -- but ...
This is the story of one.

May I introduce, Miss Snow and Miss Jackson (No relation to Sammy) respectively. They were (apparently) a post county fair dump. How do I know? (you may ask).

The dump was Wednesday, July 18th.
Rocket Science 101
It doesn't take a psychic to figure it out.

Miss Snow and Miss Jackson (No relation) were spay and in my home by August 1st.
I spent time on bonding and had a sweet, albeit ornery pair of gals on my hands. Then, I packed them into a carrier and visited my rabbit savvy vet.
Miss Snow = 100%.
Miss Jackson = Not so much.

The look on the vet's face was disheartening. “She has an abscess.”

And Oh, Gawd did I ever hear some horror stories about bunnies going through/living with abscesses.
Surgery was scheduled (SURGERY!) and so began my many sleepless nights of research and worry.
The procedure would be done with 

SIDE NOTE: May I advise anyone who is dealing with bunny issues to sit down and have a heart to heart with their vet as opposed to researching the internet first.

It's the equivalent of this.
Miss Jackson (Cause we're nasty) went into surgery with her "Miss Jackson" attitude.

I loved on her as much as I could before it was time for medications and being strapped down.

She came through with flying colors. There were four "roots" that went pretty deep (down to her mandible) but seemingly not THROUGH said mandible.
The next several weeks were filled with meds, critical care, rinsings and Manuka honey.

Manuka Blossoms.

I about fainted with each rinsing. Hey. Even SUPERGIRL faints. Don't Judge.

Hear that, girls? We can do ANYTHING!
Seriously though, I had to lay down after each rinsing treatment.

I parted the girls for both hygiene and safety. But they remained right next to one another, separated by only a wire pen wall. When Miss J felt better (healed a bit), I began to allow them some supervised time together. All was well. WAS being the operative word. I am not sure what happened in that blink of an eye on that gray November day …

Miss Jackson was grooming Miss Snow and had stopped. I was sitting right there. Miss Snow put her head under Miss J and all of a sudden – FUR FLYING! SWEARING! SCREAMING! And that was just ME!
Yes, it happens. But I still feel horrific.
And Miss Jackson's wound was torn open. * sigh *
So THIS was definitely on me.
[insert self-loathing here]

An immediate call to the vet for both advice and to see if I could get a Xanax.

Water ain't gonna do it.
or two ...

After a half dozen texted photos it was off to the vet! As fate would have it, it was actually BETTER that the wound was that open now. The Dr. stated that had it not happened, he would have reopened it. As he saw it, Snow did us a favor.
Those type of wounds are better if healed from the inside out. And what appears to be something “healing up just nicely” could actually be “Healing from the outside too quickly”. And so – "Dr. Snow" to the rescue. 

The nurse is not amused.
My heart could NOT take it so they were separated PERIOD.  Rebonding would wait even though everything was fine up until then.

Now … Miss Jackson is good to go albeit a slight bald spot on her cheek still. 

I'm in ur baskets folding ur laundries.

And … I have slowly begun rebonding. This is frustrating, I must say.
Miss J still grooms Miss S. But by Gawd when the grooming stops Miss Snow gets QUITE irate. So … for now, there will be plenty of stress bonding.

Here we see Miss Jackson and Miss Snow huddled together on a bathroom mat surrounded by a floor of lava. (Neither of them will venture out on tile). It's slow. And I think it is so slow because I am such a mess over all of the above.

So until they love each other in each others' space again, it's switching spaces, litter boxes, lovies, short dates and lava. Lots of lava.

Any advice is appreciated.
As is any Xanax.

Walk it off, Supergirl!

And to Dr. Timothy Reichard:

Thursday, September 20, 2018

Of Love, Loss and Letting Go.

For my part I know nothing with any certainty,
but the sight of the  the stars makes me dream.
- Vincent Van Gogh

Grief is an odd thing, isn't it? For me, this process is like an ocean washing onto the shore. Everything is calm then the tide starts to come in and before I realize it, I am standing in a puddle of tears. What could be considered even odder is when it is over a beloved little heartbeat that was once at my feet. But it is what it is and it is how I feel.

I believe that people can and do spiritually bond with animals. I believed this as a kid playing on the neighbors' farms. I believe it today. The unconditional love that these beasties give transcends any of us. Animals just are. They are who they are supposed to be (given environment and temperament) and act accordingly. There is a light about them that I rarely find in humanity.  I was blessed to have the bond seemingly returned.

I also believe as creatures of the field (and sky and sea), they are perfect in creation therefore they return to the Creator. There is no dogma to sift through. There is no judgment. They are innocent. This may be considered a new age placebo or anathema or whatever. But it gives this old girl comfort.

In saying “good-bye” to Russette, I have accepted that it is probably going to be a life-long journey. I am not good at letting go by any means. I fight. I kick. I scratch. I cry. I will always have that Dutchie girl-shaped hole in my heart. Thank God my rabbits help make my heart large enough that it won't collapse into itself. So … I am ok.

I wanted to do something to help the absence. I wanted to do something to – I don't know – bring her briefly back? This is my project of love, loss and letting go.

Since Russette was always at my side during my arting adventures, it only seemed fit to do a piece of her. Of her leaving me.

She would run across freshly inked drawings and canvasses. She would steal pencils and paint brushes. When I would use a portable drawing board she would sit in my lap under the board. This was part of my process for almost a decade. This is the first piece that I didn't have to go get another pencil or chase after that specific color pencil she ran down the hall and hid somewhere.
It was a lonely drawing.

Russette giving pointers
Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here is a favorite of mine. One afternoon the song played and that was it. An idea hit. Note that what I see in my head is NEVER what the final ever looks like. I just trust that the idea/imagery will take me somewhere.

I wanted a mixed media. Something that represented all the media that Russette spilled, chewed, stole, walked across: An organic element coupled with computer graphics.

She started as a pencil sketch on Dura-Lar with inked blues on the back. Acrylic inks and acrylic gel for texture are the front. Color pencils fill in some details. I really love the color pencil over the acrylic gel.

Fabulous phone photography
The above image/process shows the final steps.
After all was complete – I put it away for a while.

My concept of death is hopeful at best, terrifying at worst. As a kid I used to imagine “the cosmos” as the place of spirits. Mine were similar to Carl Sagan's COSMOS – without all of the math. My cosmos are overwhelming, beautiful, engulfing and welcoming. Now came the computer part. Much was experimental. Much was me looking at old pieces and NASA photos. Some was me staring at the wall.

I represent death in my symbolic work with the white/greyish eyes.
Her heart-light took some thought and trial. But I like where it ended.
Circles are feminine and connecting.

Memories fade. I wanted to somehow represent that she was leaving. She was free. But she was also disappearing because the Earth doesn't stop. The sun comes up and those left behind have to return to the Land of the Living. Returning to the Land of the Living sometimes feels like dying.

Happy travels until we meet again.

Mixed Media

Wednesday, July 18, 2018


Originally, this rabbit was under my daughter's roof. Due to life, they both came to temporarily live with me. I refused to let the little one leave.

She looks so innocent here
Her name was initially "Russel" -- we soon discovered "Russel" was "Russette". The first time I took her outside, Russette ran. She made a bee-line to a squirrel. I was following quickly behind, worried that it would not end well. They kissed. Then they both casually went their own ways.

This was just the beginning of nearly a decade of one of the most ornery Dutchies I have ever known. Russ was an expert at stealing art supplies, taking pencils while still in my hand, running across canvases and spilling inks. My studio was her favorite room.

She eats art supplies
I also had to keep the bathroom door shut. Russette loved to be IN the bathtub ... whether I was bathing in it or not. She was NUTS and full of unending energy.

I wasn't kidding

Every day

If you ever wanted to know where she was, she was either asleep in my eye or at my feet. The little heartbeat.

Her illness was hidden. By the time she let me know it was too late.
This time, I had no choice. I had to let her leave.

Her ashes will be here tomorrow. She'll be where she belongs.