Stina's Art

06/14/2026

Had a great time yesterday with our beautiful couple Lexie and Paul. They had such a great team of friends and family that really made the day fun!

Backwoods Venue 222 Wedding Venue

06/03/2026

WOOKIEE WEDNESDAY SPECIAL REPORT: There Is A THING In My House ⭐⭐⭐⭐ (CONFUSING)

FRIENDS. There is a SITUATION and I have THOUGHTS.

Mama brought home a CAT.

Now, I want to be clear - I have SEEN a cat before. Froggie across the street. I bark at Froggie ferociously to let him know I am VERY BIG and VERY IMPORTANT. Froggie is not impressed. This is a long standing professional disagreement.

But this cat is DIFFERENT. This cat is IN MY HOUSE. Living here. With a little bell on her collar so we know where she is.

Day One: I barked a lot. This felt correct and appropriate. New thing in my house, neurospicy protocol requires LOUD OPINIONS.

Day Two: I got to look at her through the kennel bars up close. She hissed at me MULTIPLE TIMES. That felt RUDE but also honestly? Fair. She doesn’t know me yet. I growl at people I love so I respect the boundary communication.

Then they put me on a leash and let her walk around. She kept almost coming over to me and then getting scared and running away. I know this feeling DEEPLY. I too want connection but cannot figure out how to do it correctly. We are perhaps not so different, small bell creature.

Haggie was off leash the whole time being his perfect calm Blue self. Of COURSE Haggie was fine. Haggie is always fine. RUDE.

Then I got off leash! And she has this bell - jingle jingle jingle - and I just got SO EXCITED and came RUNNING and she absolutely lost her mind and bolted. I did not mean to be scary. I’m just BIG and ENTHUSIASTIC and NEUROSPICY and the bell was RIGHT THERE jingling!

She’s been hiding under the dining table. Technically I can get under there if I really commit to a low squat. I have not done this. I am showing RESTRAINT. You’re welcome.

This morning I ignored her a little more. She was a little less scared. Progress.

Now about this name situation - Mama wants to call her Bellatrix (after Harry Potter) or Blue (after Jurassic Park). Dad wants to call her Murder Hobo after some dice game he plays.

She is our official Mouse Inspection Specialist so the name needs to reflect her professional status.

My vote? Murder Hobo. She hissed at me on day one. She earned it.

Rating: 4/5 stars. Confusing but interesting. Would investigate further from appropriate distance.

What do you think we should name her?

05/03/2026

WOOKIEE WEDNESDAY SPECIAL EDITION: Sunday Meatball Production Report ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

SUNDAY UPDATE, friends:

While most of your mamas are out here baking cookies and being all festive, MY mama is in the kitchen making MEATBALLS. For me. Because I’m “Skelly the Skeleton” and need fattening up.

But here’s the thing - Mama thinks they’re GROSS. Like gagging-level gross. She’s using an ICE CREAM SCOOP and a SPOON to make them because she “doesn’t want to touch them with her hands.”

Meanwhile, Dad just gets his hands RIGHT IN THERE like a normal person. No drama. No complaints. Just meatball production efficiency.

Mama’s excuse? “It’s a sensory issue, Wookiee. You of all dogs should understand that.”

Okay FINE, Mama. I guess as a neurospicy Great Dane who can’t handle being petted sometimes, I DO understand sensory issues. But also… these meatballs smell AMAZING and you’re being a wuss about it.

The recipe came from Daisy’s Dane Sanctuary in KC (shout out to my rescue homies!). Apparently when Mama told them about my skeletal situation, they agreed I was “a little skinny” and sent their special recipe for underweight dogs. VINDICATION. Daisy’s Dane Sanctuary

PRODUCTION UPDATE: I caught Mama sitting on the job. Just SITTING there between batches. Not okay, Mama. Get back to work. I would call Dad to supervise but he’s currently busy cleaning up my royal p**ps from the yard so the siding guys can actually PUT SIDING ON THE HOUSE.

We’re all very busy here with important jobs. Mama making meatballs with a spoon like a wuss. Dad on p**p patrol. Me supervising and quality control testing.

This is what Sunday looks like when you’re on Operation Fatten Up Wookiee: The Sequel.

Dr. Wookiee approves this recipe. Even if the production methods are questionable.

Rating: 5/5 stars for meatballs. 2/5 stars for Mama’s sensory-issue spoon technique. Still RUDE but I’ll allow it because neurospicy solidarity.

04/29/2026

WOOKIEE WEDNESDAY ANNOUNCEMENT: I Told You So - A Wookiee Vindication Story ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Hey friends - Wookiee here with an important update. And yes, I know it’s been a WHILE since my last post. Mama says she’s “too tired” to keep up with making posts AND all my extra fatten-up treats. Priorities, Mama. PRIORITIES.

But we’re back because apparently I’m “too skinny again.” Mama looked at me the other day and went “Oh no, I can see your ribs, Skelly the Skeleton!”

RUDE nickname, but also… I’VE BEEN SAYING THIS FOR YEARS.

For those new to my page, let me give you some context: When Mama and Dad got me as a puppy, I was in BAD shape. Like, 7 pounds at 8 weeks old when I should have been 30 pounds. No hair. Sores everywhere. I literally fell over when the wind blew. It was NOT a good time.

We did the FIRST “Operation Fatten Up Wookiee” back then - lots of special food, care, and love to get me healthy. It worked! I became a gorgeous, healthy Great Dane!

But NOW we’re doing it AGAIN because someone (Mama) has been denying my very reasonable table scrap requests for YEARS.

Every time I begged for table scraps: “No, Wookiee, you don’t need people food.”

Every time I did my sad face at dinner: “You have your own food, dramatic dog.”

Every time I tried quality control testing of her meals: DENIED.

I don’t care that I had free access to all the dog food I wanted. It’s not the same.

The new protocol includes:
✓ Extra peanut butter (FINALLY)
✓ Cheese (as I’ve been requesting for YEARS)
✓ Eggs (yes please)
✓ Meatballs (this is what I’m TALKING about)
✓ Various other table scraps I’ve been campaigning for since 2023

Mama’s current justification: “Well, you DO match the new gothic black house aesthetic now, Skelly!”

Listen, I appreciate the goth vibes, but this whole “you can see his ribs again” situation could have been AVOIDED if someone had just listened to my medical advice about needing more cheese.

But I’m not bitter. I’m just enjoying my meatballs and saying “I TOLD YOU SO” with every delicious bite.

Also, Mama promises to get back to regular Wookiee Wednesday posts now that she’s less tired. We’ll see. She also promised to feed me more table scraps two years ago and look how that turned out.

Dr. Wookiee prescribes: More cheese. More posts. More meatballs. This is medical advice.
Rating: 5/5 stars for finally getting the table scraps I deserve. 2/5 stars for it taking this long and making me skeletal AGAIN. Still RUDE but delicious.

03/26/2026

Hey!!

We are on here!!

Vote for our NEW name Stina’s Artistic Visions!go to services then photographer

You can vote for us every day from now till April 8!

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Vote for your favorite activities, restaurants, service providers and more in the Best of Midwest contest here!

03/25/2026

🐾 Wookiee Wednesday: A formal complaint regarding the small loud creature

They brought it back.

For the fifth time.

I have been patient. I have been tolerant. I have expressed my concerns through appropriate channels (growling) and been met with what I can only describe as institutional failure.

The small loud creature arrived again at my nerd night. MY nerd night. Where I perform important quality control and emotional support services every other Friday.

I raised my concerns professionally.

I was sent to my room.

My room is upstairs. Mom was also in her room. We did not discuss it but I could tell she understood.

I monitored the situation from the door for some time. Mom kept calling me back to bed. I returned. Then I checked the door again. Important work.

Eventually mom turned the fan on my face.

I feel better now but that is not the point.

The point is the small loud creature smells unusual and makes sounds that are concerning and nobody asked me if this was acceptable.

Nobody asked.

I am the one who lives here.

One star. Babies ruin nerd night. I was simply trying to protect everyone and I am the one in time out.

RUDE.

🐾 Wookiee
Chief of Security, Stina’s Artistic Visions
Currently Wronged

03/21/2026

Holy cannoli!

So I’ve just been over here in recover from surgery mode, haven’t even started back to social media positing… and you guys have about fully booked me for the year!

You all are awesome! 🥹

If you are still thinking about booking your wedding, reach out!

01/21/2026

WOOKIEE WEDNESDAY CRISIS REPORT:

Mama Went to Work - EVERYONE PANIC ⭐ (DEVASTATION)

FRIENDS. We have a SITUATION.

As if this week could get worse.

Mama went to work today. AT THE OFFICE.

Like her medical team didn’t SPECIFICALLY recommend at least six more months of home rest under our professional supervision.

Haggie is HOWLING WITH HORROR. Literally. The dramatic singing has reached crisis levels from here in the garage. This is not his cute bedtime howls - this is BETRAYAL OPERA echoing off the garage walls.

And ALL OF US - me, Haggie, AND Dixie - have been BANISHED to the garage together. THE GARAGE. With a straw bale hut and my coat like we’re some kind of… outdoor dogs! Instead of our rightful places on the sofa. Or Mama’s lap. Or following her around the house monitoring her recovery.

Apparently our “collective anxiety levels” and “behavior issues” mean NONE of us get house privileges while she’s gone. We’re all in garage exile together. RUDE.

So here we are. Me in my coat. In a straw hut. Haggie howling his songs of sorrow. Dixie probably wondering what she did to deserve this. Processing the absolute AUDACITY of Mama going back to work when we CLEARLY aren’t done supervising her recovery.

This is what happens when you don’t listen to your medical team, Mama.

Dr. Wookiee, Nurse Haggie, AND Guest Consultant Dixie are VERY disappointed in this decision.

Expected return to couch privileges: NEVER, apparently. This is our life now. Straw bale exile with the whole crew.

Rating: 0/5 stars if that was allowed. Complete betrayal of the entire medical supervision team.

(They tore up the comfy dog bed i gave them in protest)

01/19/2026

WOOKIEE WEDNESDAY CONFESSION: I’m Having a Week, Okay? ⭐⭐ (COMPLICATED)

This can NOT wait till Wednesday

Listen, friends. I need to be real with you about what’s been happening because it’s been NEUROSPICY CHAOS over here.

Two days ago: Haggie put me IN MY PLACE.

Like, officially. Bad. I don’t want to talk about it but let’s just say the social hierarchy got VERY clear very fast and spoiler alert - I’m not at the top.

This was… confusing for my brain. I’m BIG. I’m 150+ pounds of Great Dane and bigger than he is. Shouldn’t I be in charge?? Apparently not.

Then YESTERDAY: Dixie came to visit. And suddenly I’m watching Haggie be the boss, and I’m thinking “Well I’M not gonna be at the BOTTOM of this totem pole!”

So I tried to assert dominance. Resource guarding Mama. Resource guarding FOOD. Resource guarding everything because if I’m not top dog, I’m at least not gonna be LAST dog, you know?

Except… this is not how neurospicy brains should handle social stress. This is anxiety turned sideways into Bad Choices.

Mama says I’m “working through some things” and “processing the pack order.” Dad says I’m “being a butthead.” Both are probably true.

I’m learning that:
∙ Being low on the totem pole doesn’t mean I’m not loved

∙ Resource guarding makes everything worse

∙ Sometimes Haggie IS the boss and that’s okay

∙ My neurospicy brain struggles with change and that’s HARD

Still processing. Still learning. Still occasionally being a butthead about it.

Rating: 2/5 stars. Social hierarchies are RUDE and confusing.

01/14/2026

WOOKIEE WEDNESDAY REVIEW:

New Fish Collars - Apparently We’re a School Now? ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Alright friends, we need to discuss the latest development in this household.

Mama got a blue beta fish named Zipper.

A FISH.

And apparently this tiny water creature is now part of “the boys” and we all needed MATCHING FISH COLLARS to show “solidarity.”

So now Haggie and I are walking around with fish-patterned collars like we’re some kind of aquatic-canine boy band.

Mama’s justification: “Your old collar was getting pokey, Wookiee, and all the boys should match!”

Listen, I didn’t even KNOW my old collar was pokey. That’s news to me. But apparently

Mama noticed and decided the solution was… fish patterns.

For solidarity. With a beta fish named Zipper who lives in a tank and has NO IDEA we exist.

HOWEVER.

The lady who made the collars sent DOG TREATS with our order. This changes EVERYTHING.

Suddenly fish patterns seem very fashionable and forward-thinking. The collar is actually quite comfortable. And I suppose if Zipper is one of “the boys” now, matching is only appropriate.

Plus Mama seems happy about our “school of boys” (her words, very proud of that fish pun). And if recovering Mama is happy, then I guess we’re a fish-themed family now.

Haggie says the treats make it worth it. I agree. We’re very sophisticated matching now.

Rating: 4/5 stars. Would be 5/5 but I’m still processing being fashion-coordinated with a fish.