The Bitch is Back. My New Blog.

I'm not Stella. I haven't had my groove back for some time. That's the thing about your groove, sometimes it gets so lost you don't even have the energy to go looking for it. Dang, my groove was halfway through Iowa before I even knew it was missing. I could review the laundry list of things gone wrong... health, wealth, death. If my life was a game of Pyramid the $25,000 answer would be "Words ending in "th" that have attributed to me being bummed out the last year." So now is a time to be picked up by your boot straps and sing a little song and go forth with a smile, right? Right. Right? Sigh.
First of all I had to Google the term "picked up by your boot straps" to even know what the hell it means and how to do it. This should be a person's first red flag that it's not as easy as it sounds. So I went in my closet and found the only pair of boots I own with actual boot straps.
 My white Doc Martens from when my Dublin wedding in cough, gasp, holy-crap-it-was-that-long-ago 1994. I placed my feet in them and pulled the straps with much vigor while attempting a standing position. I ended up falling sideways on the floor and nose to nose with my setter Pogue who surely thought this was some fun new game. We all know it is universal dog law that any time a human gets on the floor playing must follow, even if you are not planning on playing or in this instance trying to find the magical wisdom in the term "picking yourself up by your bootstraps". So I forgot about the boots and wrestled around with Pogue on the bedroom carpet until he collapsed with a loud puppy sigh. He then rolled on his back with paws dangling in the air and started to fall asleep while I rubbed his belly. His silly positioning made me laugh out loud and I realized something more profound than the boot strap experiment. Dogs have it right. Engage. Play. Be near somebody that loves you. Expose your vulnerability to the world. Be touched. Hope it's enough to soothe you to sleep fully content when all is said and done.

I'd like to say Pogue knew all this and understood he'd lead me where I needed to go upon sight of the boot straps. But honestly he just wanted to chew those boots. Real bad. Vintage leather with boot straps to drag the boot around with? Doggie deliciousness squared.
So this is me exposing my belly to you. (metaphorically speaking of course, because I haven't been to the gym in awhile, but that is another blog entry) My name is Shannon Barry. I am an artist. (it took me 40 years to realize that is a credible career title damn it!) I write, make dog collars, design tee shirts, play in my studio and sigh a lot. I am trying to be funny and happy and all the things hopeful creatures are whose blog you want to follow. Dogs are pretty much my whole life and yup, my life is whole. I'm also the Head Bitch around here. Listen up.
Smooches to the Pooches ~
          Shannon