Life Is A Round Egg

My ex-husband Ken, has given me total permission to say anything I want about him on this blog. Is he crazy? Or, was he drinking when he said it? I can’t remember, so that’s good enough for me, I will just imagine that he said, ‘yes’ while he was in his right and usual mind.

Ken is Summer’s dad. He is also known as Bumpa to our grand kids, Lexi and Loch.

Ken is going to build me a chicken coop. I have it in my mind that I want three red laying hens: Stella, Lolly and maybe Louise.

Ken asks me how soon do I want this coop. I say, “Right now. Immediately. I have already met my new chicken friends at the Diamond D Feed Store.”

We work out the perfect spot on my property. It’s almost under a giant scrub oak tree.

Ken paces out the size, raises one of his arms in the air and says, “The nesting boxes are just past my armpit.”

Then, he goes home.

He emails me several days later. “When I drive by in a few days on my way to my house in the desert, I’ll pick you up and take you to the desert hot springs.”

I email back and say, “No. I have a better idea. When you come by let’s go up to Ransom Brothers hardware store and get all the materials to build the chicken coop. Then we will come back to my house and build it. My chickens are waiting.”

Mother’s Day comes around and Ken is here at my house, babysitting our grand kids while my mother, my daughter Summer and four sisters and a woman friend, lunch and party.

Bumpa takes babysitting seriously. He sits on a chair near the end of the patio and watches the kids make mud pies, just beyond the metal gate. For hours. He watches the kids like an interested guard dog.

Meanwhile, a few drinks into the outdoor brunch, my daughter Summer mentions that another scrub oak’s arms are too far into part of my patio.

“Mom, no one can walk through here. We need to cut those branches out.”

I fly into a frenzy. “No! No! They’re my shade! I love my tree!”

I jump up, stand in front of the clustered leaves and defend them. “They’re covered with Christmas ornaments! You can’t cut them down!”

But, everyone agrees with Summer. The branches hang low and need to be trimmed.

I’m snarling and grinding my teeth.  This is my tree, my patio, my ornaments and my party!

My sister Polly with the glorious white hair, gazes up at me from her lawn chair. “You are so bossy,” she says. “And dictitorial. Why do you have to run everything?”

Her husband has just stopped by and hears the exchange. Later he asks Polly, “Do I get as bossy as Venus does when I drink?”

Polly assures him that he does, because she wants to run his life and get him to stop drinking.

Finally, I give in to the clammering crowd and say, “OK. Trim the branches, but not too much and you have to re-hang all the balls and you absolutely must not cut off the branch that has the long strip of sticky fly tape hanging from it.

Summer and her cohorts do indeed whack off that branch, but we don’t know it, right away.

We don’t know it until Bob, my little brown dog, hobbles over to a sister with one of his forelegs taped to his tiny chest. He has wound himself up in the very long, very sticky fly tape strip that he has found on the ground, along with the untouchable branch!

We have to untangle him and I have to cut off half of his long-haired, guppie-like waving tail.

We shave off one side of his gummed up stomach hairs and Summer spends quite a lot of time scissoring out the sticky hair between his many toes and foot pads.

Ken is meanwhile, still intensely watching the kids make mud cakes.

My mother speaks up.

“Venus, I still have that chicken stew you made me in the refrigerator. The one with the dumplings that look like flat waffles.”

“Mom that horrid stew is a month old! I told you to toss it out weeks ago. It’s one of my failures.”

Mother agrees with me, saying, “Even my dog won’t eat it.”

“Mom,” I repeat, “toss it.”

“I don’t know where to toss it,” my mother says. And, without any guile or malice  what so ever, she adds, “I thought I could throw it in the garden but I didn’t want to kill my plants.”

“Mother! Did you just hear what you said? I can’t believe you said that.”

I drop my face in my hands.

This leads the family into Famous Cooking Stories about Venus.

“Remember when Polly had Christmas at her house and she told all of us to bring something we’d never made before? That was a mistake.”

Everyone hoots.

“And you, Venus,” says my sister Barbara, “made that horrible mashed potato thing.”

Candy jumps up from her garden chair and yells, “Yes! Two huge mounds of mashed potatoes on an old rusty cookie sheet and the potatoes were filled with all kinds of herbs and Venus had piled shredded yellow cheese all over the tops and sides of the thing…and Smiley put it in our oven with the glass door and within minutes, WHAM! The whole potato thing caught fire!”

Now Polly shouts, “And Smiley yelled, “Flamming tits! Flamming tits!”


After all the screaming laughter settles down, someone adds, “….And no one would eat it.”

I look over at Ken who is still intent on his kid watching job and I think, ‘I wonder if the man misses me and all those odd meals I used to make for him?’

The way Ken is looking at those mud pies and mud muffins and dirt cakes and rock cookies and red bush berry soup….I’m thinking that maybe he didn’t even notice that I wasn’t a regular kind of cooking woman.

The wife that came after me never cooked. I used to feel sorry for him, but maybe he thought it was a blessing.

I’m pretty good with eggs, though and here I am, again, fixated on my chickens and that chicken coop. It looks like I’ll be making lots of egg dishes to startle and amuse the family. It’s been 35 years since Ken has had to eat my meals but hey…I may be making him some lavish egg dishes.

Life comes full circle in all kinds of ways.



(During the class Venus worked on a requested wish that one woman asked for to de-clutter and clean out her home. One picture put forth was to do it all just a little bit at a time. The following email comes from a different lady who took the same class, who had a different wish.)

“I have signed up for the next class you and Summer are doing as I enjoyed the last one so much. A funny thing, though, is that ever since that class I have been de-cluttering my home!

I guess not only did I need to do it, but I am enjoying doing it and just a little bit at a time! What fun!! The beauty of my home is shining through-all because of someone else’s wish!”

(Venus always tells people that you can have all the wishes that are wished other people for in the tele-class…if you want them.)

Next Class is for Wealth, Prosperity and All Good Things: May 23rd, 2009  Please go to to read all the testimonials, how the classes are done and to sign up.



These are smaller paintings. Some watercolor, line work, and etc. It’s like Pot Luck. You can see some of the work I do if you look back through the blog.

If you have a testimonial about good or intriguing results you have had from working with me during a private phone session or while chatting with me on the radio, please email it to me. I will put your ‘note’ in the ‘pot’ and every once in awhile, pull some names for free paintings.

You can email me at:    Subject Line: PAINTING



“I have loved talking to you during private readings over the phone. Once you told me something about myself that surprised me in a good way; it actually raised my self-esteem. I think about it every now and then. Talking to you brings things down to earth for me and eases the wondering and puzzling that I go through at times. The bonus is, you just make me feel good when I talk to you and your humor is so healing. I feel safe and secure about life; it’s like good conversations we have with our families. Thanks for being around!




VENUS IS NOW ON FACE BOOK (Please sign up on the FAN PAGE. I spend most of my time there.)


(And thank you a million times to those of you who have and are helping me find my way around in the Technological Ethers.)



*LAURA SCANIO* Offer good through May 21st, 2009. After that, null and void


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