M.C.L. Clay Truffles

These are four clay truffles that I have made. They are presented on a homemade multicolored clay block. There are four different kinds of truffles in this photo. So let's talk about them each individually.

This truffle is called "The Citrus Delight." It has two {clay} candied slices of orange and lemon. Its chocolate square figure is adorned with lemon and orange zest.

Colors used:
Brown, orange, yellow

 The photo above shows a truffle called "The Caramella Craving." The {clay} dark chocolate shell is filled with sweet caramel. This bite-sized delight can curb anyone's sweet craving.

Colors used:
Ruddy caramel, brown

 "The Snowball" is justly renowned for its wonderful taste. This delicious {clay} truffle is made up of a ball of creamy white chocolate topped with a heavy sprinkling of cocoa powder.

Colors used:
White, brown

This wonderful {clay} treat is named "The Cherry/Chocolate Surprise." It consists of a chocolate ball filled with a dollop of sweet cherry preserves and topped with a drizzling of sticky cherry sauce.


Colors used:
Brown, red


-KittyLover8
© 2012

Friendly and Fiendish Felines ~Book One~ `The Christmas Tree Cat` •-Chapter One-• -The Nativity Set-

-The Nativity Set-

“Look!” Martini cried gleefully. “Oh, look, look, look!”

Martini was a sweet, overweight black tomcat with strangely beautiful amber and green eyes. He loved everything, and was playful as a kitten, despite the fact that he was two years old. He had a little black piggy nose and a tail as thin as a worm. His build resembled that of a seal. He liked to eat and sleep.

Martini also had a disease called upper respiratory infection, also URI. his family has given him numberless doses of antibiotics, and he had been cured--for the most part. He never really had recovered from the awful illness. He still sneezed a lot.

It was not that all of this was the sweet cat’s fault, though. Martini had been adopted from the shelter, and caught the URI from another cat at the local (local as in about a two hour drive away) SPCA.

He was also not the most graceful of cats and knocked things over right and left.

“Look everyone! Look at our masters! They are playing with newspaper!” Martini mewled, overjoyed.

The humans were not, in fact, ‘playing’ with the newspaper. They were setting up their porcelain, blue-glazed nativity set for Christmas. This was a beautiful, old nativity set that thy had used for many years. Every year, after Christmas, the humans would wrap the intricate porcelain figures in old newspaper.

But before Christmas, when they were decorating, the humans would set the nativity set up beautifully upon their mantle. They would place a soft white blanket on it to act as snow and set up the wise men, the sheep, Joseph, Mary, the shepherd, and, of course, the newborn babe. Then they would place upon their mantlepiece medal hooks to hang their stockings.

Martini was two years old. This would be his second Christmas with the family. But he only had a vague memory of his fist Christmas with them, for he was not the brightest of cats.

“What is it?” Moe inquired, raising a handsome eyebrow in question, as he strode graceful, but still masculine enough, into the room.

Moe was a two-year-old gray tabby tom with the most beautiful eyes. They seemingly changed color. Sometimes they were a green, an indescribable mint/olive mix. Other times they were the same color as Martini’s eyes. At times they were amber. Others they were nearly yellow, with hints of amber. He was breathtakingly built like a semi-muscled supermodel.

Moe was graceful and could leap seven feet high if he could a foot. He was high energy, but just enough. He was strong, but only weighed about ten pounds--without his ribs showing, too.

Moe was a rescued cat. When he was a stray six-week-old kitten, their family had found him. He had grown up in one of their bedrooms and was forever attached to his friend.

“The masters! They are taking the clanking things out of the box! And they are tossing newspaper about! Oh, the fun!” Martini half-replied.

With that, the fat black cat threw himself at the papers in an awkward, inelegant leap that carried him for maybe ten inches. He landed quite loudly in a sprawled black jumble of fur. He leaped a second time, this one taking him about seven inches. Abut, that was enough to land him with a boisterous, crackling crunch in the newspapers.

The kitten in him came out as best it could and he proceeded to tear at the newspaper with such gusto that it was nearly impossible for the onlookers to guffaw at such a  sight.

And guffaw they did. They laughed and pointed and chuckled and rolled on the floorboards and squeezed their eyes shut and laughed and laughed and laughed.

Martini, oblivious to the giggling just inches away, was bright eyed as he tunneled right underneath the jumbled mountain of newspaper. He was purring loudly with glee and the heat of the moment. He jumped on the motionless, crumpled balls of old newspaper as if they were fleeing mice. He tore them to ruined shreds as if he were applying the killing blow to the already-lifeless things.

Moe narrowed his eyes in disgust. “You’re making a fool out of yourself, Martini. Just look around you! Everyone’s laughing!”

Alas, this was true. But Martini, in all of his glee and play, couldn’t hear what his friend was trying to tell him.

Sniffing with distaste, Moe strode out of the room. In a kitty exchange, Holston slunk in as though he were trying  to hide from something bigger then he was.

Holston was an odd, brown tabby tomcat that was two years old. He had strange, unblinking eyes like a snake, and always kept them wide (was this with fear of something nonexistent and unseen or to look intimidating, the family would never know). He was adopted from the local vet clinic as a month-old kitten. He was small and thin, maybe seven pounds. Despite this, you couldn’t see a trace of his ribs. He was merely very, very small.

Being so very small, he was also quite aggressive to any new cats introduced to the household. But he was kind and loving to the cats he already knew and befriended (at least for the most part).

“What’s all of this loud stuff?” Hulston wondered, settling down in a hunter’s crouch nearby.

“It’s newspaper!” Martini squealed. “Come and play with me, Hulston. We’ll have loads of fun!”

And, right then and there, with a swift flick of Martini’s long, thin tail, newspapers shuffled as if uncomfortable. Hulston, unable to hold off any longer, launched himself into the fray. He was a streamlined, tabby torpedo and hit his target with the truest aim. He ripped and teared at the paper as though he were doing so for his very life.

Martini ripped at the vile parchments at his friend’s side. But then, with the suddenness of the shot of the gun, Martini sneezed. And a massive sneeze it was, spewing a spray of snot right and left. This atomic sneeze was, in fact, enough to even knock Holston and Martini out of their frenzy.

“Ew,” Holston said with a shudder, staring, his face distorted with pure disgust, as he backed away. “Gross, Martini.”

Martini looked up guiltily, his eyes trembling and wet with the starts of tears and large and round as two discolored moons. “I’m sorry,” he muttered apologetically.

Holston looked back at his friend, his expression changing from twisted disgust to a softness that resembled pity. “It’s okay, Martini. You couldn’t help it. Anyway, what are we waiting for? Let’s play!”

“Yay!” Martini whooped, bouncing back into the newspapers.

And together they played, a human wiping the booger up with a disinfecting wipe only a few feet away, purring and jumping to their heart’s content.

A little later, the nativity set set up (pardon the pun), the best friends could be found curled up in exhausted mounds of fur atop the torn, shredded remains of the once-magnificent pile of newspaper.

~End~

-KittyLover8
© 2012

I am a Cheetah

I am a cheetah. I chase the gazelle through the golden waving wild grasses that grow tall. I run faster then the fastest car. I am a cheetah.... 

My name is Desta. I am a cheetah, a member of the wild cats.

I live on the African savanna. Here I prey on the impala, gazelle, and, deer. I am presently hungry. I see a group of impala nearby. My long, black-spotted tail swishes back and forth. I lick my obsidian-black lips with my coral-colored tongue.

I rise, still slightly crouched. Slowly and soundlessly, I creep down the stone and stalk through the grasses. My golden pelt helps me blend into the tall stalks. The impala are oblivious to my presence. I slink still forward. Just a little bit farther....

I stop dead in my tracks. I am close enough now.... I wriggle my haunches, preparing to spring.

Jut as I am about to attack, five lionesses leap out of the grasses. They chase the impala into the horizon, leaving me with nothing but an empty stomach. My muscles loosen. The lionesses have beaten me to the impala once again. With a sigh, sigh I turn away. I'll have to catch something else later.

~~~

In vain, I prowl. I know that I cannot catch zebras, with the exception of their young. All of the black and white stripes are dizzying. I, in desperation, try to pick out the weakest. All of the babies are hidden withing the circle of zebras. Abut, I know that I won't be able to catch them, so I leave.

I creep underneath a large fig tree to escape the persistent heat that beats my back with uncaring rays. I lie there, in the shade for only a few moments. A leopard, who had been roosting above me, felt threatened by my presence and chased me away.

Dejectedly, I prowl into the shade of an Acacia tree. Its branches are outstretched as if arm waiting for an embrace. Panting, I am grateful for the shade the large tree provides. There, I rest. Soon, my eyelids become to heavy to keep open and I fall into a deep, contented sleep, the whistling wind acting as my lullaby, the grass being my bed.

~~~

I awaken about an hour later. Nearby, a herd of gazelle are drinking from a huge watering hole. It is sapphire blue, clear as the cloudless sky. I realize my thirst at the sight of it. But I know that my hunger pains are grater. So I crouch in preparation to spring.

I creep closer, despite the fact that they are within leaping distance. Patiently I wait for just the right moment....

I leap.

The herd scatters. In their panic, they leave the elders behind. I chase an old gazelle. My claws--which are not retractable, as all other cats' claws are--help propel me forward. My long tail provides me with the balance when turning that I need. My streamlined body cuts through the wind at unimaginably fast speeds. My powerful legs zip in and out, in and out.

Even  when they are old, gazelle are very fast. But I outrun  it, and I am able  to catch the old gazelle.   

I drag it into the shade where I eat my righteous meal. Hyenas wait, peering out of the golden grasses, for me to have my fill. I might take me a whole week to finish feeding, so, one eaten enough, I leave the rest for the hyenas.

I walk over to the watering hole to have a drink. I lap the crystal-clear waters until my thirst is quenched.

The day looking much brighter, I prowl over to the very same rock that I had been basking on a only few hours before. I sprawl over the warm, smooth surface of the stone, purring contentedly. And, happy, I fall asleep.

I am a cheetah, proud and strong; fast and willy. I chase the gazelle through the golden waving wild grasses that grow tall. I run faster then the fastest car. I am a cheetah....

-KittyLover8

© 2012

Cougar Fact File

Cougars, also known as mountain loins, pumas, deer cats, catamounts, and panthers, is closely related to domestic cats, much more then to actual lions. Don’t take this as evidence that it is small and petty. It has no natural predators and is armed with its seize, strength, and sharp teeth and claws. They can jump a span six feet long, the seize of a tall full grown man lying on his side.

Cougars are nocturnal, as all felines are, and hunt mostly during the night. This factor calls for extraordinary night vision and amazing eyes that reflect light, making their eyes appear to glow.

These big cats are also solitary animals, and are rarely seen together, other then with their young. As cubs, cougars are covered in black spots and look much like adult-cat-seized-kittens, with fuzzy fur and playful eyes.

Cougars eat a wide verity of food that they eat. They feed on deer, capybara, rabbits, ungulates, elk, moose, and practically everything else that they can catch. They have, like all cats, a carnivorous diet.

A very odd food that cougars love to eat are porcupines. In fact, they are one of the only animals who eat them! The cougars don’t mind the prickles, and usually don’t even eat them. What spines they do eat they merely digest.

But their diet is also something that has put them on the endangered species list. They will prey on livestock like sheep, cows, pigs, chickens, etcetera. Most farms shoot the beautiful wildcats on sight.

Cougars’ conservation status is presently LC, or least concern. Abut, they are still endangered. We don’t want these amazing wildcats to be driven completely to extinction, do we? To be wiped off of the face of the Earth forever? To die a wrongful, unfair death to which they are unable to defend themselves? I say that this is wrong.

And the government has tried to educate the farmers on cougars, to see how amazing they are. This has made little difference. So we need to do our part, too.

Donate to helping save the cougars. Help educate people on them, so that they can help, too. You can help cave the cougars.

~SymphonyCat~

Ancient Living: Roman Food

Okay, so today we're learning about Romans. Well, Roman food, actually.

Firstly, lets talk about their courses.

The first meal was made up of bread and fruit. This was the breakfast. Both it and the lunch were light. The lunch was made up of a verity of  dishes made with cold meats, fish, vegetables, and bread. Though, many of the Romans didn't eat much. This is because of the third and final meal. Dinner.

There  were  multiple  courses within this large meal.  There was a great diversity in dishes made with meat, vegetables, and bread. These included stuffed dormice, slugs fattened on milk, cheese,  and countless others. The  final course was made up of fanciful desserts and fresh fruit. Throughout all of the courses, wine slightly diluted with water and honey, would be  served  in generous prepositions. 

During the length of these elaborate dinners, poets would read poems aloud, jugglers would juggle, dancers would dance, singers would sing, and many other people were assigned to entertain. People would laugh and joke and talk with friends. There was always something else; new food to try, new people to preform (and more performances to watch), and new people to meet and/or talk with. Many people were invited to these rich feasts, so there were plenty of friends to make.

Servants whisked about the room, replacing empty plates with full plates of freshly-made dishes. There was no need to get up, lying on comfortable couches and plucking food from the tables and being waited on by slaves.

Many Romans ate until the tipping point, and would get very sick from overeating. In fact, there was often a whole room built for sick Romans to vomit and lay back in.

During the meal, Romans would lounge in comfortable couches, eating from low tables covered in rich and not-so-healthy foods. These couches were lengths of wood or stone covered in fat pillows. This rested on four stands that were often elaborately-carved marble or bronze.

-KittyLover8

© 2012

Maidenhair Ferns ~Science Lab~

So today we will be disusing one of my favorite subjects. Science! And this science report is all about ferns. Maidenhair ferns.

Firstly, I will present a short (so don't stop reading, please!) fact file on maidenhair ferns. Here it is:

Name: Maidenhair ferns.

Scientific Name: Adiantum.

Photo:

Habitat: Shrub and woodlands. This fern type likes warm temperatures.

And now you know how very short my short fact file lists really are. ^-^'

Anyway, maidenhair ferns, if you are willing to take out a portion of your time and work, are fairly easy to grow. You can plant them in drained sand, limestone, or loam. They need warm and fairly shaded places to grow. Water it regularly and it will thrive in the dappled sunlight (to much will scorch its leaves).

In short they like humidity, moisture, and half-shade. This is probably because they originated in the Brazilian tropics, where there is plenty of humidity and water (most rainforests receive, in the very least, 80 inches of rain annually. But when you think about it, the entire state of Kentucky receives 40 inches of rain per year. So rainforests' minimum equal to double as much as Kentucky). It has adjusted to this habitat and now requires these needs to thrive.

Now you know how to plant maidenhair ferns!

-KittyLover8
© 2012

A Letter From the Past in the Eye of....a Carthaginian Warrior of Hannibal ~II~

Dear Selena,

Hello, my dear sister. How have you been? I miss you and the rest of the family with all my heart....
       Hannibal held a small meeting today. He tells that we have lost nearly half of the warriors and the journey isn't yet over. We have little supplies, due to carts falling off of the cliff and the remaining warriors starving of exasperation. I hope that I live to return....I shall try my hardest and guide my stead strong.
      I have had hard times today. My horse nearly lost her footing, and three of the supply carts fell off of the narrow path due to horse's or riders falling into the ravine. I, as I wrote yesterday, fear for our welfare's.
      Today we saw some more golden eagles, once again. Hannibal wonders if they're a sign that we are nearing Rome. We still haven't seen any vegetation, though, so we are definitely far from our destination.
      And now I shall answer the questions that you have asked me in your reply to my previous letter.
         Yes, I am well, Selena. As for you, there need be no asking. Just seeing your wonderful handwriting is good enough. I shiver from the cold and shed tears for those who were lost, but I count my blessings to the Gods, for I am alive, and you are well. And that, my dear sister, is all I wish from them. So do not lose faith! The Gods must be worshiped or they may make us feel their wrath.
         You are not foolish or silly for being concerned, Sis, for I find this touching. It brings the warmth of love back into my numb fingers.
         I have seen hardly an animal aside from the eagles. Although, a little earlier on in this trip, I did come across a single Eurasian lynx. Here is a sketch I drew of this beautiful wildcat.

With all of my love,

Kanmi

 -KittyLover8
© 2012

A Letter From the Past in the Eye of....a Carthaginian Warrior of Hannibal ~II~

Dear Kanmi,

Hello, Brother! Oh how I miss you....
       Germelqart? We shall send our blessings....I do not know how that could have happened. Are the gods not watching over us? I believe that I am losing faith. You are nearing a bloody battle and Germelqart has fallen before the battle even begins. Why do they punish us so?
        The family is well. I hold the sleeping baby Quintus on my lap. He had a slight cold before you left, if you remember, but now he is relieved of this sickness. Now he rests without sniffles of sneezes. Didos--you remember our cousin, right?--is relieved that my, Mother's, and her tender care enabled the sweet little boy to become released from the bounds of illness.
        And I am well, too, Brother. You needn't ask of my welfare. Although I miss you, and mentally I am in unimaginable agony. I wish for you to return, Brother. And, if the Gods are guarding us, you will.
        Anyway, I must now ask you some questions. Firstly, how are you? I know that that is a silly question, for you are preparing to go into battle with the most powerful empire of the time. And you're on a steep, unstable and narrow path, which has taken many lives. Abut, I must hear the honest answer.
         Also, I was wondering if you have seen any animals so far? Another silly, childish question, yes, but still one a yearn to learn the answer to. Scene no one has been to the Alps before--or at least hasn't lived to tell the tale--I just wish o know.
         And how are your supplies? Oh how I worry....
         Oh dear. Quintus is awakening. Please write back as soon as possible, my dear brother. Farewell!

Love,

Selena

 -KittyLover8
© 2012

A Letter From the Past in the Eye of....a Carthaginian Warrior of Hannibal

Dear Selena,

I miss you so much, Selena. How are you doing? How is the rest of the family? I have so many questions....
      Well, scene it's so hard to send letters, I suppose that I'll write a little on what I'm doing right now. Although I really do wish that I could be home right now, instead of being precariously balanced on this  awful, narrow ledge....
      I know that I sound like I'm complaining, and I probably am, merely using this letter as an excuse  to bemoan about it. Though, I must say in me defense, it is hard not to bellyache
   Anyway, Sis, right now me and the rest of the warriors are camping on what there is to camp on. I fear for my and my many companions' lives. Every day, someone falls of the edge into the impervious hands of Fate. Or dies of overexposure or of something equally likely and awful as that.
   Germelqart, I sorrowfully and tearfully say, died yesterday. As he was making is way along this calamitous and sender ledge. His horse...lost its footing on the slippery and icy 'trail', as Hunnibal calls it. They plunged into the ravine.
   At first, when I was writing my letter to you, I put it off, for I knew that you would be as distraught as I was. After all, there are enough hardships to face as it is. I hope that you understand, Sis.
    Anyway, We must get onto the less negative things, for there is only so much paper to write on. We shall send our blessings to our poor lost friend, but we must move on. As I know, there are many who suffer just as we do, some suffer even worse.
     We are nearing Rome now.  Abut, though Hunnibal is positive, I know that there are others who fear what I fear. What if we have lost to many? What if we are overcome by the massive rankings of the Roman army, who is superior to us? What if all of those lost warriors died in vain...?
      I know that it is wrong to lose faith in our leader, but I don't see how we can keep the trust we once had in Hunnibal. It is the impossible, as most of us believe.
       And now I think of all of those happy times we and the rest of the family spent together, as you told me to. I shall forever cherish  these wondrous, dream-like memories, but they just seem to make me sadder and wish to be back home even more....

Yours sincerely,

Kanmi

-KittyLover8
© 2012