A Terrible Thing to Happen to  All That Cheese

Mrs. Bunny's hat clubbers had their weekly potluck last night.  Mrs. Bunny wanted to make something special but something which the hat clubbers would still eat.  She happened on a recipe for mac and cheese with crab.  She had noticed that of late a lot of people seemed to be putting lobster in their mac and cheese but being on the west coast she found crab, although expensive, more available.  So, looking away from the price tag, she bought a pound.  Also four kinds of fancy cheese and shallots.  Shallots, I ask you!  Then she spent an hour putzing about the kitchen with it.  Finally that evening, feeling virtuous, she carted it to the potluck.  Mrs. Ruskeebunny was there with her famous jello sour cream mold.
"This is sure to be the best dish tonight,"  said Mrs. Ruskeebunny who valued honesty above modesty, or, as Mrs. Bunny thought to herself, good common sense.
"This is not a contest,"  said Mrs. Bunny putting her dish on the table with the rest but privately thinking, "I WIN!  I WIN!  I WIN!"
That is until later that evening when she bit into it.  It tasted exactly like tuna noodle casserole.  And not a particularly good version.  She is sure there is a lesson in here for everyone but frankly, she doesn't care.  I have not been put on this earth to teach anybody anything, she thought sourly, watching Mrs. Ruskeebunny's jello sour cream mold disappear while half her casserole remained stiffening in its dish. I have not been put on this earth to teach anyone anything or apparently to make crab mac and cheese.
When she got home Mr. Bunny asked her how everyone had liked the crabby mac and cheese as he called it.
"Shut up,"  said Mrs. Bunny and went to bed.
Some days are like that.  Even in Rabbitville.

Oh!  Mrs. Bunny is so excited!  Not only has she been rendered in gum paste but Listening Library has asked her to read and record her new book (coming out in spring 2014) titled Lord and Lady Bunny - Almost Royalty!
Mrs. Bunny is madly doing her voice exercises.  One's voice cannot be too squeaky and high-pitched, that is her opinion.  Mr. Bunny has asked to record all his own bits but Mrs. Bunny has assured him that he has had quite enough excitement, finally getting his name on the cover.  He must be content.
Thanks again to all of you for your  letters.  To the many who asked if Mrs. Bunny knows a good carrot cake recipe, the answer is yes.

Thank you to all of you who have emailed Mrs. Bunny, guessing what medium Mrs. Bunny chose to be sculpted in.  To those who guessed gum paste - correctomundo!  There is a lovely photo of Mr. and Mrs. Bunny in gum paste atop a cake on the translator, Polly Horvath's, web site.  The artist who works so daringly in paste of the gum is Dan Chau.  He was working from the very brilliant Sophie Blackall's renditions of Mr. and Mrs. Bunny.  Mrs. Bunny thinks Ms Blackall does a lovely job of drawing them.  Although Mrs. Bunny likes to point out the pencil always adds ten pounds.  Mr. Bunny says, yeah, Sophie's okay but for some reason she always draws Mr. Bunny way too SHORT.  He is clearly a whole head taller than Mrs. Bunny so what gives?  "Yes, dear,"  says Mrs. Bunny, checking the top of his head for fleas.  She is not saying he has any, just that she is ever-vigilant.
"Bah,"  says Mr. Bunny.  "Double bah!"
He is not in the best of moods.  Poor Mr. Bunny just got back from auditioning for Dancing with the Cars.  A lovely new reality show where stars of stage and screen  of whom very few people have heard, cha cha with their Porsches.  Mr. Bunny had hoped his Smart Car would be up to the challenge but they lost out to a marmot and his Audi.  Mr. Bunny has taken this as a sign that the world is coming to an end and has gone to live in the basement.  Mrs. Bunny, as soon as she is finished posting this blog, will attempt to lure him up with carrot cake and the world will return to normal.

What a wonderful April morning it is here at our hutch.  Mrs. Bunny was hopping about the garden when her daughter, Lillia, who was home visiting from Australia, suggested to Mrs. Bunny that she write a blog.
"Oh," said Mrs. Bunny, blushing modestly.  "Who would want to read my every thought and keep up on my every activity?"
"Perhaps you are right," said Lillia.
"Why, everyone!" amended Mrs. Bunny swiftly.
So Lillia, wise in the ways of the modern world, set Mrs. Bunny up on her computer and then hopped back to Australia, waving her hankie behind her.  Mrs. Bunny, busy composing, barely noticed.  She is a wonderful mother but has great powers of focus and concentration when called for.  "Don't forget to write,"  she may have mumbled in Lillia's fleeing direction and that precipitated a whole new reason to have anxiety attacks.
"What,"  she asked herself, "can I possibly write about?"
She  hopped into the garden where Mr. Bunny was busy striking poses.  Mrs. Treaclebunny from across the street had started a sculpting garden on her back forty and was busy doing Mr. Bunny's likeness in everything from marble to boxwood.
"Ah,"  said Mr. Bunny as he saw Mrs. Bunny approach,  "what do you think?  Am I more striking in bronze or driftwood?"
"Mr. Bunny,"  said Mrs. Bunny.  "Did I not ask you to wait to be immortalized until Mrs. Bunny was done with her blog entry?  No statue of Mr. Bunny is really complete without his bunny pal sculpted by his side."
"Feh,"  said Mr. Bunny.
"Feh,"  said Mrs. Treaclebunny.
Mrs. Bunny was so offended she did not reply but clapped a hat on her head and hopped immediately into Rabbitville where she found the perfect medium for a statue of herself.  In the end, she included Mr. Bunny.  But only because she is a much better rabbit than he.

To find out the medium that Mrs. Bunny chose, stay tuned for Mrs. Bunny's next post.