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Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Banksy , El Magnifico

  I recently met this little piggy named Banksy. He lives on the west coast and is good friends with La Contessa. La Contessa is on Instagram as @antiquegoddess. Anyway, this Bansky is quite the character. He is a very social little beastie. I don't know who taught him, but he is enamored with texting and Instagram. After La Contessa puts her phone away for the night, the clever little beastie wakes from his nap and begins his nightly review of her activity. He seems to adore Instagram and reads all the comments. He doesn't post anything yet because he is still struggling with the photo buttons on the iphone. No idea how he texts, but he somehow does it with his tiny little cloven hooves. Perhaps he uses a stylus held in his little piggy mouth. I don't want to ask, seems a little too personal.

He lives a very gracious life surrounded by a world of amazing treasures. He lolls around all day, leading a blessed piggy life. He is well loved by La Contessa and The Italian, her doting husband. He is a very considerate beastie boy. He has impeccable house manners and is a delight in the garden, being careful to fertilize only where needed. He appreciates all the work that La Contessa has done to create this little paradise of a garden. Oh, and the fragrance from the roses......

Banksy is quite a character, as little piggies are wont to be. He is not a shy little one, not even a bit. He is direct in voicing his needs for specific creature comforts. He likes certain foods served on Vintage French faience plates and his tender skin requires only the softest of pillows for his bed. And the textiles have to be uber fabulous. I mentioned that I thought he was a little bit of a snob, but he reminded me that "he  has a keen sense of design" and what did one expect when one lived with La Contessa? We all know what fabulous surroundings she creates!

Anyway, he read a text that I was making some pillows from vintage Fortuny and adding great passementerie to "gild the lily", as it were. So, he is texting, texting, texting. He says that he is DESPERATE for one. I ask myself "Is there another little piggly wiggly in the world who is DESPERATE for a Fortuny pillow"? Of course not.

So, plans are in the works...Designs are being studied...Passementerie is being perused...

If he continues to be such a clever little beastie, surely there will be a Christmas box for him under the tree.

Cheers, Stella.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013


Oh, look at that sweet, cute donkey. So adorable. Such a furry little tike. Doesn't he seem to be looking at my friend Lance, peacefully waiting for the next happening?  Well, your are wrong, wrong, wrong. He is just planning his next donkey armed revolution!

His name is Puck and he is the donkey from hell. And yes, I did in fact rescue this miscreant.

He was about 9 years old and had been living on a sheep farm. His job, his responsibility, was to watch over the sheep and protect them for marauding coyotes and neighboring dogs run a muck.

He got into trouble when he couldn't seem to distinguish that the newborn lambs needed protection themselves and were not to be chased away.

Puck, at this point in his life, had never been gentled. He had not been handled and could not be easily caught or stalled. A decision was made to get rid of him before he damaged any more lambs.

I felt sorry for the little beastie and thought he deserved another chance. So, I bought him for $300 and began the "throwing away good money" rescue of this little monster. Albeit, a cute monster.

He stayed at the sheep farm while I worked out a few logistics.  For instance, fencing a meadow, buying electric fence paraphernalia, getting buckets and pails and grain and, and, and....

Before Puck was to come to me, I decided to have his feet trimmed, his teeth floated and any shots given. I knew that this endeavor was going to be a doosie. An all out war of the wills. After all, this little beastie boy did not come when called, ran when one approached and kicked and bucked when in the mood to disagree.

My 6 foot 4 vet came with his 6 foot assistant and a truck full of drugs and ropes. When they arrived, Puck had been lured into a stall with a bucket of grain. As we approached the stall, legs got rigid, head lowered and ears were flattened against his skull. All ominous signs of donkey displeasure.

It took the three of us, lots of drugs and a series of intricately wound ropes to finally get him in a submissive position. His feet were trimmed, his shots given and teeth floated. I, in turn, was given a colorful array of bruises and black and blues that took weeks to go away. The vet was given the opportunity to laugh at me and my Puck. This wasn't the first time he had been involved in one of my rescues.  He also got $329 for the pleasure.

And so it began with Mr. Puckster. And has continued. After four years, if he likes you, you can approach and pet him. If he thinks you are a suspicious character, all bets are off. He is getting better. Really. Lance does his feet now. That is still a battle of wills and involves large quantities of grain, a very firm hold on any hoof being trimmed and incredible agility to  stay clear of his teeth. Did I mention that Puck bites?

Puck is still a bad, bad donkey. I adore him immensely.

Stop by and give me some moolah for hay for Deidre's horse rescue organization.

Cheers, Stella.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Hope you enjoyed my blog yesterday. This "blog" thing is new to me and I found that I rather enjoyed myself creating yesterday's work. Still haven't figured out how to write so that there are paragraphs where needed. Assume, that that will be sorted out as I progress.
I did mention that my life with Nelson, my rescue horse, was full of silly and wonderful happenings. I'll tell you a little story.
I saw and tended to my rescue horse, Nelson, at least twice a day. When you are with a horse, there is nothing else in the world that matters. All thoughts  of anything that might be happening in your world are consumed by being in their presence. It is such a release. Moments of complete concentration devoted to that great beast.
It never mattered what I was wearing. All my clothes were considered barn worthy. Long wool coats, gabardine skirts and cashmere and silk sweaters were relegated to everyday stall attire. Good leather shoes and boots became muck gatherers. I saw no sense in wasting time to change to get to my buddy,Nelson. Being near, smelling the earthiness was everything. The little snuffling sounds, snorts and swishing tail noises....
Now, the "psychic" part of this little histoire. A friend had told me about an amazing woman named Simone. She was perported to be the best psychic she had ever been to see. Does there exist such a person who does not have curiosity about future loves, losses and gains? Probably not one such person.
Off I went to this diviner of truths. I had supposed that with a name like Simone and with so  unusual a profession she would live in a house that had a sort of mysterious aura about it. Not so, just a simple raised ranch with aluminum lawn furniture.

Seated at her kitchen table, the session began. She looked at my palms and then read my tea leaves.
With her reputation, I was expecting great clairevoyance. And, I was not to be disappointed.

With great enthusiasm, I raced to my friends' house to tell her of the session. Simone had told me she had had a vision of a woman with long flowing hair on horseback racing across a field. I was amazed at Simone's ability. The world should know of this woman.

I eagerly told my friend of the goings on. My friend just looked at me, rolled her eyes and said, " Stella, you always smell like your horse". Why do you think I hang your coat in the outter hall?


If you are in the mood, stop buy and leave money for hay.



Friday, February 15, 2013


Spring sale to benefit  "Horseplay" our local horse rescue.

Mention "Horseplay", get a discount on any purchase and have 10% of your purchase be a charitable contribution to benefit horses in need.

I have  loved horses since I was a child. But, I was always in fear of them for their size and their sheer sense of power. It wasn't until I rescued  a starving horse that things changed for me. I was in my 30's and looking for a saddle for my older brother for a Christmas
 present. I had heard that there was a horse dealer who had lots of tack for sale.
When I arrived at his barn, he asked me if I wanted to " see a crying shame"? When I went in to the barn, I found this poor starving horse that had been taken away from an owner by the Humane Society. He was about to be shipped for slaughter. This horse did not even have the strength to hold up his head. Every rib and vertebrae was exposed..he was covered in rain rot.
I bought this horse for fifty dollars. He was a registerd quarter horse stallion. He was called Nelson's Wildcat. Now, you have to understand that I had never owned a horse or cared for one. I lived in town. I had no space in my city lot for a horse! In tears, I called my brother and sister-in-law who lived in the country and raised sheep for a hobby.They had a small barn and against their better judgement, allowed me to bring my rescue project to them.
So, I rescued Nelson and he rescued me. He changed and improved my life in so many ways. He loved me without conditions. I have so many silly and wonderful memories of time spent with him. When I hugged him I felt loved in return. Such happy times.
Nelson is gone now. It was years before I could get on a horse again. I have not forgotten one moment of the wonderful times we had together. Deidre at Horseplay has allowed me to begin again to rekindle my life with horses. She understands that sometimes just being near a horse is enough to calm the ups and downs of life.
Horseplay is our local horse rescue sanctuary. Deidre, who is the mainstay behind the organization, works tirelessly to provide a safe, caring environment for over 20 horses in need. Raising funds for this organization in these hard financial times is difficult. If you have a moment, could you please forward this blog to friends? 
Thank you, Stella.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Italian lacquer

I had to have this lovely vintage Italian lacquer stand when I saw it. It is so hard to find something wonderful that speaks volumes and takes up so little space. It is 32 inches tall. But, it is only 16 inches in diameter. It is perfect for any little awkward space that has you mystified. There is the tiniest of drawers at the top and a small door that opens on the front... a special place for a little treasure. Does it suit your fancy? Happy holidays, Stella.

Monday, June 27, 2011