Just a Coug toiling with observational humor of This Mortal Coil...
It's Giving Audacity.
Unique Gifts for Her... Because Life is too short for Boring Gifts!
Artisan Apron Limited Collection
Complete with Scarlett's Silly Stories!
Artisan Apron ~ Baker
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
Her kitchen smells like therapy wrapped in parchment paper. When the world gets loud, she answers with buttercream diplomacy.
Cupcakes rise like tiny peace treaties
before detonating in cinnamon apologies.
She folds resentment into the dough like brown sugar, and serves her grudges warm,
dusted with sweet powdered discretion.
It’s less baking... and more emotional alchemy.
Artisan Apron ~ Book
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
Her confidence arrives five seconds before she does - velvet-clad, triumph-scented,
and entirely too loud for these delicate times.
She performs her stories like a one-woman rebellion against smallness,
punctuating punchlines
that feel like De Ja Vu.
People call it arrogance.
She calls it remembering
who the hell she is... ideally calibrated.
Artisan Apron ~ Brag
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
Her confidence arrives five seconds before she does - velvet-clad, triumph-scented,
and entirely too loud for these delicate times.
She performs her stories like a one-woman rebellion against smallness,
punctuating punchlines
that feel like De Ja Vu.
People call it arrogance.
She calls it remembering
who the hell she is... ideally calibrated.
Artisan Apron ~ Clinic
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
It always starts with a new watch...
sleek, expensive, ticking louder than his conscience.
Then comes the car, low-slung and lacquered,
growling down the cul-de-sac like an apology with chrome.
He sheds his wedding ring the way snakes shed skin - slow, practiced, pretending it’s growth.
And there she is: half his age, twice as impressed,
clinging to his arm like an accessory
while he rehearses the “bad boy” he never got to be as a highschool nerd.
It smells of leather, petrol, and denial with a faint top note of panic.
By the time he gets the tattoo she’s drafting a memoir called
No Regrets, emerging his standard-issue MLC,
because everyone is exactly where they need to be.... Liberated.
Artisan Apron ~ Fabulous
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
She surfaces like a legend from satin sheets -
hair perfect, priorities on snooze.
Yesterday she conquered hearts, deadlines,
and a small yacht party.
Today she sips champagne from a pimp chalice
labeled “Vitamin Me”
and pretends not to hear her responsibilities
whispering from the hallway.
If she rallies by noon,
the world should brace itself.
Artisan Apron ~ Fresh
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
She said it sweetly, like she was offering pie,
which was disarming because she was holding a metaphorical chainsaw.
Her inbox was full, her patience was on silent mode,
and three grown men were blinking at her like startled meerkats.
She sipped her latte, smiled with teeth,
and rearranged her priorities so thoroughly
that half the office experienced an existential crisis.
The pie was imaginary.
The boundaries were not.
and left before anyone could cry... or worse, schedule a follow-up.
Artisan Apron ~ Jackassery
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
Jackassery
She retired from tolerating nonsense
about the same time she finished raising husbands, kids,and a small army of pets that shed like they were paid by the pound.
Her patience now has a shelf life. It comes in rations... reserved for true emergencies, close friends in meltdown, and the rare stranger who can pronounce espresso without inventing an “x.”
Once, she gave the benefit of the doubt. Now she gives a look - the kind that shuts down board meetings, family feuds, and men who call her “sweetheart.”
She does not need your jackassery today. Or tomorrow. Or on any day ending in “This feels like a hostage situation”. If you insist on testing her, she’ll serve you vintage sarcasm neat,
with a twist of “have you lost your verbose,
self-important mind?”
Artisan Apron ~ Lady
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
She doesn’t hurl profanity.
She delivers it—
each syllable polished,
like a soliloquy in an envied shoe collection.
Pearls at her throat,
charm laced with side-eye,
and a cadence sharp enough
to strip paint, patriarchy,
and the courage of men who interrupt her.
They whisper, “a lot before noon.”
She curtsies -
and accepts it as applause.
Artisan Apron ~ Moderation
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
She flirted with moderation once—
it ended faster than a bad blind date.
He wanted calm evenings,
to be coddled like another child,
and portion control.
She wanted champagne at sunrise,
a soundtrack for her exit,
and a dessert that required a legal waiver.
Now she measures joy in decibels, not teaspoons.
If she’s too much, go find less -
probably at home alphabetizing the spice rack
by geographical origin,
whining like a cry-baby to other poor-me’s.
Artisan Apron ~ Persuasive
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
She always takes a big bite out of life—
and any occasion with her
is destined to become folklore
with a side of blackmail.
Which, in her case,
looks like karaoke,
dancing on questionable surfaces,
and occasionally waking up with new ink.
Her arguments arrive in vintage outfits,
carried by whimsy, witchcraft,
and a dangerous twinkle—
the first line of a spell.
No one remembers the logic.
They only remember saying yes,
and the Uber Black that carried them away.
Artisan Apron ~ Sage
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
She bought a bundle of sage
big enough to smudge away centuries of bad decisions, and almost set the HOA—and the headlines—on fire.
Now the neighbors wave from across the street,
while she waves back with smoke-streaked mascara, incanting her own foreign policy of “stay in your lane.”
Her house smells like hope and rebellion,
her plants stand taller, and her dog finally stopped doomscrolling.
Because when the world feels rigged for chaos,
sometimes peace requires a ritual, a spark,
and a fire extinguisher big enough for democracy.
Artisan Apron ~ Spell
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
She does her best spellwork fueled by two cocktails
and a grudge she guards like fine china from the real wedding.
Candles flare, her manicure sharp enough to slice patriarchy, and her whispers carry the weight of hexes disguised as jokes.
Even the dogs sense the shift -
tails wagging as they sploot, pant, and flash sideways grins,
as if they, too, catch the scent of vanilla
and a long-ignored, overplayed hand.
Her magic always lands...
because when you play the long game,
you don’t need force.
You just give them enough rope
to tangle themselves in their own PR.
Artisan Apron ~ Tequilla
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
She doesn’t bury loud betrayal.
She files it neatly, lets it marinate,
and gives herself a single, spectacular daydream of retribution - equal parts fantasy and good manners.
She’ll imagine salt on the rim, a crowd that remembers, and a performance so tidy it becomes folklore.
Then she returns the scissors to the drawer,
smiles, makes tea, and watches them squirm a little... the real payoff is in the suspicion she leaves behind.
After all, there are more ways than one to skin a useless potato. Why spill blood when you can rearrange reputations?
Artisan Apron ~ Troublemakers
Scarlett's Silly Stories:
They don’t need contracts or NDAs.
Their friendship runs on the unspoken pact:
If things get awkward, one goes deaf,
the other forgets English -
and both know the danger word that triggers the emergency exit strategy.
It’s not rebellion.
It’s survival by comedy... a laughable code of conduct
that gets them through weddings, wineries,
and any situation requiring a straight face.
Because true friendship isn’t about
staying out of trouble.
It’s about agreeing on the cover story -
and knowing exactly when to deploy it.
