sandwiches, cider and...opera!

 Update WIP: March 13th.

Well, as you can see, this Viking Opera hamster is certainly not nearly as dramatic or finished as I had hoped! (That's what I get when putting things off too late.)  It is truly simply a scribble for now. My hope now is to add the colours needed for the IG Colour Collective challenge which for this week is a golden yellow. If I can get back to it, it will be ta wonderfully fun and engaging piece but for now, instead of Wagner, per se, you're more likely to end up with a wimpy shrill chipmunk style warble for Scribble Picnic this week! My apologies, but as I say, it's OK to even toss out an idea, just to have engaged our minds even a bit more creatively.

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Opera will always make me think of my mother, amusingly. She loved it! My indelible memory there of her would be Sunday mornings as a teen. I'd often make her a simple breakfast (toast and tea with marmalade) and then carry it up the stairs on a tray, following a few steps carefully behind her as she'd quite carefree saunter (i.e. waddled) up the stairs stark naked, singing opera at the top of her lungs in her VERY fruity English voice! (She'd sometimes carry the cassette tape player with her, if not draping a towel.) All the while, she'd throw handfuls of talcum powder over her shoulders, usually missing her back though and hitting me in the face with it or landing like snow on her "bum" ledge.  Ha. Yes, seriously! She was very much a child of the tropics as she'd say — at home anyway — but oh so proper (while still warm and engaging) the rest of the time. :)

In years prior when I was 13, she'd have the same routine but would take us to HTB church beforehand so we could get eventually confirmed. After that though, she fell into the leisurely routine above as it was the only day off she had to sleep in, and hey, who wouldn't want breakfast served my one's loyal son? When we'd arrive at the top of the several flights of steps to her bedroom, she'd then place the cassette player down, still singing jollily, and walk back and forth across the little room...on her derriere. ("It's good for the bum, darling!") Oh, and then do a Tarot card reading for me and her! Yes, my mother was truly beyond stereotypes, enigmatic even, one might say. My dear Mama. There will never be another one like her.

OK, will catch up with everyone later.... Can't wait to see what kind of shows, as it were, we all put on here! :) Meanwhile, I'm going to be floored again by this 9 year Dutch girl's talent.

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