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Morgan came home from school to me taking chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. BIG chocolate chip cookies. I didn’t really mean to make them that big, but what good is a little cookie anyway? The only good cookie is a big cookie.
I’m getting ready for two guests to the studio tomorrow. Today, I baked Cocount-Oatmeal Rum Pie (with Walnuts), Soft Ginger-Raisin Cookies, an apple pie, and chocolate chip cookies. I hope they’re big eaters!
Posted by Suzanne McMinn | Permalink
How gorgeous is that? This painting was created by artist Kelly Walker from a photograph of Patriot and Zip, my two rescue horses. This painting will be made into a print for the Heart of Phoenix Equine Rescue benefit at my studio grand opening party on June 16.
You can get more details about the party here (you’re invited!), but even if you can’t come to the party, you can participate. Every individual or family who donates at least $25 or more to the Heart of Phoenix for this event will receive a print, suitable for framing, of the above art. Attendees at the party can take their print home that day. If you can’t attend the party, your print will be shipped to you. ALSO, every person who makes a $25 donation to the Heart of Phoenix for this event will be entered in a drawing for a custom pet (pets, farm animals, etc) portrait by Kelly Walker. (THAT is an amazing prize. But even if you don’t win, you will still receive the print.)
Checks should be addressed to: Heart of Phoenix Equine Rescue.
Envelopes should be addressed to: Chickens in the Road, P.O. Box 858, Clendenin, WV 25045.
Coming to the party? Register here.
Find out more about the Heart of Phoenix Equine Rescue here. HOP is a 501(c)3 charitable organization and your donations are tax-deductible.
See you at the party (or in the mail)! The grand opening party is my first charity event–and my very first event, period–for the studio. Please help me make it a big success for HOP and the horses!
Posted by Suzanne McMinn | Permalink
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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