My Photo


  • a happy, ordinary, middle-aged, suburban woman who paints odd pictures, gardens in a straw hat, lives with the love of her life, is owned by one cat and the ghosts of several others, and walks a little funny 'cause she has a fake leg. She started this website because there's more to life than what we lose, and we need to let each other know what's possible, even if it's only a happy, ordinary life.

November 2011

Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
    1 2 3 4 5
6 7 8 9 10 11 12
13 14 15 16 17 18 19
20 21 22 23 24 25 26
27 28 29 30      


  • E-mail me at:

    sara at saraarts dot com

    Make sure the subject line of your correspondence is clear and specific. I do not open e-mails from strangers unless I can tell in advance that I want to read them.

Shameless Self- Promotion

  • I Took The Handmade Pledge!

Good reads, grownups only

« Mad Science Sunday: Back to Cultivation | Main | Status Report (for Anyone Who May Have Been Worried) »


Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.


I think he has reached Santa Nirvana by doing a headstand.

Merry Christmas to you and the True Love and your various fuzzy friends.


The foot is SCARY. And, I mean, I look at scary photos every day, but nothing like that.

Maybe it's the lighting. And the habenero sauce next to it.

Excellent science, comrade!




See, I am glad the leg, in the proper scientific settings is living up to the Halloween promise. My conclusion from all this is - please, send me more emails because if you are having conversations, even mentally with Santas in a 2 litre jug, or psychologically analyzing them - please, help is only an email away - don't make me come down there and do an "intervention" on you.


BLC -- I like your thinking. I also like your thinking on Christmas generally. :) Merry merry to you and yours also.

Alphabitch -- Thank you! And yes, I think those pictures are so horrifying because (a) the angle makes the severed limb look bloated, like an actual severed limb that has been floating in water a long time after having been unpleasantly separated from its source through some horrid mishap like an errant propeller or something and (b) it's blurry. Nonspecificity makes for greater horrific impact, as every filmmaker knows. Show me someone getting their limb hacked off = meh [insert shrug of indifference here] or, worse, huge mocking opportunity. On the other hand, play the sound of a chain saw, maybe that first spurt of blood on a white-tiled wall, and then cut to the guy in the living room turning up his TV to drown out the sounds of dismemberment coming from the bathroom, and we have maybe the only genuinely scary scene in the entire Scarface remake, and a doozy. A dismemberment scene that shows you everything is either science or parody, intentional or otherwise. The one that merely suggests leaves everything up to the viewer's imagination, and that can be quite an opening.

A fake, absurdly luridly colored foam limb sitting drily in my hand? Eh, big deal? A blurry, bloated thing floating in a bottle in low light? Ha, that could be anything, and there could be any story behind it.

Amorette -- Pas bizarre. Différent. Et vive la différence, n'est-ce pas? ;)

Elizabeth -- Yes! And without you and your report from the field, this poor little foam leg, so disappointing to me at first, never would have been given this opportunity. Mad scientists internationally continue to be grateful for your contributions to the field.

I am, however, sad to say that no Santa fetishists I could discern have yet shown up in my search stats. However, now that I've mentioned them, I'm sure they will.

Sugared Harpy

Am liking the Santa much, much better.

The leg? SHUDDER.


Don't worry, Melissa. They're all going into a closet 'til next October, the leg AND the Santas, the good, the bad AND the ugly, the naked AND the dead, uh...

I may have gotten carried away here. You get the idea. ;)

The comments to this entry are closed.


A Good Idea This Year, Too


I Don't Know What Came Over Me

Then There Was The Time I Lost My Mind for a Month

Blog powered by Typepad