Mar 31, 2014


My mo-ther can't come to the blog right now.  I've sent her to the market on a fool's errand of looking for a very special organic dog food that I read about online.  We'll just keep it between us chickens that this particular dog food is only available in Australia, OK?

I was doing just fine, sleeping with my silk pajamas and sleep mask firmly in place, when the old lady started bellowing "Oh, what a beautiful morning!" at the top of her ample lungs at 5:30 this morning.  We apparently are experiencing some sort of weather related phenomenon that does not involve freezing my little heiney off, so Mo-ther felt compelled to welcome the day in what can only be described as her own special way.

Progress continues on Aunt Laura's Stained Glass Windows.  I think this piece is particularly fetching, and have already selected a place for it in my study....just above the davenport.  Methinks the color scheme will go quite nicely with a new Persian I've just had my broker bid on for me at Southeby's, so as long as Mo-ther remembered to pay my AMEX bill this month, we should be good to go.

Life continues along quietly here at Chez Spinster.  I see my Aunt Chrissy from time to time for a little intellectual stimulation, and make do with whatever inane conversation Mo-ther concocts in the interim.  My cousin Bosco continues to amuse me with his antics, and there was a brief moment that I considered joining him on Spring Break this year before I remembered that I care neither for board shorts or beer parties.

I do apologize for my absence, but between trying to keep my idiot mo-ther from doing stupid human tricks that will surely result in a trip to the local emergency room and writing my novel, there just isn't a lot of time in the day.  

Are you all well and enjoying your own particular corner of the world?

I hope so.

Until we meet again, know that I remain your loyal and devoted friend.  Keep those cards and letters coming!

With love from your pal,

Mar 27, 2014


So there I was, daydreaming about this thing of ours, when I happened upon a comment on this here blog by the lovely JP.  In my last post, I mentioned that Stewey and I were captivated by the costumes in Game of Thrones, and JP was kind enough to provide the link to the Embroideress of said costumes.

(Fair warning, kids.....when you go to this sight, you are going to want to quit your day job, move to London, and bang on the door of her studio to beg for an apprenticeship.  (At least that's what I am thinking about doing today.)

I mean, come on.  How freakin' COOL would THAT be?

RANDOM PERSON AT A COCKTAIL PARTY:  So, what do you do for a living?

SPINSTER:  I'm a Needleartist.

(OK, so this is the answer I give whenever somebody asks me this question already, but I do so because saying "Oh, I'm a big fat loser who hasn't a clue as to what she was supposed to do with her pitiful little life" kind of kills the moment.)

RANDOM PERSON:  A Needleartist?  What's that?

SPINSTER:  Well, I do hand embroidery on textiles that are used in film and television productions.

RANDOM PERSON:  Wow.  That's amazing.  Have you worked on anything that I would have seen?

SPINSTER:  As a matter of fact, I just finished work on this season's costumes for Game of Thrones.

RANDOM PERSON:  Wow.  That's incredible.  You're perhaps the most fascinating person I've ever met in my whole entire life.  Can I get your number and take you to dinner sometime to hear more about this?

Ahhhhh. What a happy daydream for today!  Thanks for the reference, JP!

Here's the link:

Mar 26, 2014



Stewey and I are having a quiet, yet lovely Wednesday morning.  The sun is shining, but it's cold.  I think the thermometer said it was in the 20's before she muttered "Later, kids" and headed south for the duration. 

Sheesh...even the meteorological measuring devices have had enough.

I've been happily stitching away on Laura J. Perin's Stained Glass Windows while re-watching the previous seasons of Game of Thrones.  Aunt Chrissy and I decided to get ready for the premier in  a few weeks by refreshing ourselves on the characters and plot points, so it's been all things codpieces all the time around here.

Last night, Stewey got such a case of the giggles when he caught sight of Cersei Lannister in her copper breast plate.  I looked up from my stitching to see what all the fuss was about, and have to confess that my Stewey Little was right-on with his assessment: 

I was thinking that the level of detail was a little extreme for a copper breast plate (since I thought I saw a n***le) but it turns out that it just must have been the lighting in the shot.  Here is a close-up of said breast plate:

Isn't the embroidery on that costume swell?  Makes me wonder what all of the stuff from the show must look like up-close and in person.

Speaking of up-close and in's my progress on Stained Glass Windows.  In case you're wondering about the odd pattern of completion, may I just point out that I was smart enough to turn the canvas upside down so as not to reach my stubby pork chop arms across an 18-inch stretcher bar set?  I figure I'll work the other two boxes in that row and will then head to the center portion of the design last.
That's the report for today.  I hope that your neck of the woods is fabulously happy and full of all the things that make your heart go pitter patter! 

Mar 22, 2014


On Tuesday, I awoke at the crack of dawn with a bright idea.

"Stewey!" I said,  "Mommie Dearest is feeling particularly motivated to get organized this year.  Let's make a list of all the chores we need to do around here and then spend Saturday getting them all done once and for all."

He was beyond excited, I can tell you, because before I knew it, he had donned his little reading glasses, strapped on his little apron, and grabbed his copy of the Martha Stewart Homekeeping Handbook.

So we plotted and planned and planned and plotted, and for the rest of the week I thought about how nice it was going to be to have a proper weekend of getting stuff done around here.

Friday afternoon, I realized that I would need to complete all of my shopping and errands in one fell swoop, because if I tried to do them on Saturday morning,  the long list of getting stuff done around here would never happen.

So I went to the bank and the car wash and the grocery and the lab and the Targets and every other damn place I could think of, and by the time I got home at nine in the pee em, I was worn out.

"Oh, Stewey! "  I sighed, as we tucked into bed last night.  "I'm so worn out, but tomorrow is going to be our day of finally getting stuff done around here!  I'm so excited!"

"Me too, Mommie Dearest!" Stewey said "Shall I ask Cook to prepare us a special breakfast in anticipation of our big day?"

I didn't have the heart to tell him that "Cook" is actually Your Truly, and that the only reason he hasn't figured this out yet is that he's usually still wearing his little sleep mask when the breakfast tray hits the bed each day, so we moved on.

The alarm went off at seven and after I stumbled out to get the paper, I realized that something was amiss.  Why did everything seem so fuzzy, and why did every part of me feel like I had been dropped from the top of a tall building?

I got my coffee and headed to the Happy Chair and....BAM!  I got the flu.

When I called Aunt Chrissy to tell her the news, she allowed me to have my tantrum and then told me to go back to bed.  "Its fourteen degrees outside and miserable" she said.  "Besides.  This might be the last lousy winter Saturday we're going to have, so you might as well enjoy it."

You gotta love that about Aunt Chrissy.

So I'm headed back to bed and hope to woke up sometime in May.  Don't cry for me, Argentina. I guarantee you that the chores will still be there when I wake up and You Know Who will be there to share his disappointment with me that our Super Perfect Saturday of Cleaning and Polishing and Organizing will have to wait.

What's new with you?

Mar 9, 2014


It's not quite Spring, but Winter seem to be gasping her last breath.  The sun is shining today, but based upon the shivering Stewey that I see toasting his buns in front of the fireplace, methinks it's still cold outside.

So up to the studio I go....determined to refresh my stitchy basket and get some inspiration.  My mojo has been OK, but my stamina seems to suck the proverbial wind by the time 7pm comes about and it's time for needle and thread.

I decided to go with the idea that I would find two cross stitch projects, two counted canvas pieces, and one painted canvas piece.

First the cross stitch.  I heard the birds chirping as I went to get the paper this morning, so I figured that it would still be suitable to play with Rosewood Manor's Winter Quakers for a little bit more.   Besides, my start on this was pretty pathetic.  So into the basket it went:

For my next cross stitch piece, I decided to go with Come Tarry from Shepherd's Bush.  What is it about these long band samplers that can make even the worst day wonderful?

For counted canvas, I found this lovely Laura J. Perin Stained Glass Windows lounging in the WIP bin.  I don't know why I ever put it down in the first place, to be honest, so adding it back in to the mix seems like a no-brainer:

I don't know if I ever shared a pic of this one before.  It's Kimberly Crum's Floral Block Two, and as you can see from the tiny little bit of progress I made, it hit the back of the archive before I was able to really get into some of those colors.  Purple and olive green really blow my skirt up sometimes, so this one should be fabulous once I get 'er done:

When I started to paw through my stash for a painted canvas, I started to get a little frustrated.  Something in the back of my mind kept saying to me "I just know that I have the absolutely perfect thing to go in this damn basket, but for the life of me I can't think what it might be!"

And then I spied a little cabinet tucked into the corner with some of Stewey's crafty things.  OMG!  THIS IS THE EXACT CANVAS I AM LOOKING FOR!  WHAT THE HECK IS IT DOING IN MY LITTLE DOG'S CRAFTY THINGS?!

He couldn't offer an explanation, but I think he was miffed that I haven't yet started this beauty.  Remember it?  It's from Zecca, and is all kitted up and stitch guided by Miss Ruth Schmuff Her Very Self.  

Oh, what joy, what bliss I am going to have today!  I am freshly showered, in clean pajamas, and armed with a gallon of diet Coke.  I don't know if there's anything of interest on the TeeVee, but for the first time in quite a while, I could care less.  I've got a MAJOR love affair going with this little Intermission Basket and I'm not afraid to enjoy it!

Here's hoping that your Sunday is as lovely and joyful as you want it to be!  Onward!

Mar 1, 2014


The view from the Happy Chair on a cozy Saturday evening....

Supplies for the "as yet to be completed" Olympic project:

And here's the progress...

I really am enjoying this immensely, so even though the torch has been extinguished, methinks I will keep playing with this for a few more days.

My reading life is back on track.  This morning I finished "The Goldfinch" by Donna Tartt.  I'm still working it all out in my head, but I think I loved this book.  Next up is either "That Part Was True" by Deborah McKinlay or "An Unnecessary Woman" by Rabih Alameddine.

I picked up the book about Zentangle thanks to Miss Susan of Plays With Needles fame.   After reading her post about a recent family class, I went into a three-day obsessive frenzy of learning, watching, and devouring everything I could find on Zentangle.  I completed my first one yesterday with simple pen and paper, so I imagine that once I get my hands on some proper materials, there will be no stopping me.

Have you read Miss Susan's blog, by the way?  If not...take thee there immediately and prepare yourself for the most soulful, lovely, wonderful blog reading experience you'll ever have.  You can find it here:

Stewey is munching a Chewee while silumtaneously toasting his little buns in front of the fire.  We took a nice long snoozy nap this afternoon, and he's been Little Mr. Cozytoes all  day.  Damn dog....sometimes it's all I can do not to just sit here and grin at him.

I'm going to pour another dietCoke, pop a blanket into the dryer to toast, and then snuggle in with some stitching and Sopranos.

What's on your agenda?

Feb 27, 2014


OK.  We finally have an answer to the question "REALLY?" as it relates to this crazypants weather of ours.

You see, it's my fault.  Entirely.

No.  Really.  I mean it.  And once you realize that it truly IS my fault, you will delete me from your PalmPilot (do they still even MAKE those things?) and you'll be able to return to life happy and content that you used to know an idiot that caused all of this m.e.s.s.

As a child, I anticipated winter with the same excitement that I had for Christmas.  Winter meant snowpants!  And sweaters!  And sledding at Faurot Park!  Winter was when Dad made perfect fires in the fireplace and I, for once, could sit in front of them with my nose in a book and not hear "Why don't you go outside to play?" every seventeen minutes.

When I came to the hinterlands of Northern East JaBip Indiana to go to college back in the dark ages of 1984, I got quite a kick out of the kids from Southern California and Tampa and other exotic locations walking around campus freezing their bazoombas off and hating every single minute of it.  I would chortle madly as I huffed and puffed my way to class all bundled up in my parka, while those poor fools slipped helplessly about in their perfect J Crew pea coats and illogical shoes.

I've been saying "Oh, I LOVE the cold and the snow and the dark winter days!" for years now...all in an attempt to make people think that I come from hearty peasant stock and am nothing, if not, adaptable.

Today it was minus twenty-eight degrees outside and I couldn't see two inches in front of my face when I made the mistake of going out to get the paper.  The drifts on the side of my driveway are taller than I am by several feet, and if Stewey rolls his eyes one more time at the limited real estate on which he has to make his deposits, I'm going to FedEx him to Florida.

All done now with the cold and the snow and the whatnot, thankyouverymuch, MotherNature.  Can we go back to normal winter now with 30 degrees and just enough white to cover the grass?

Feb 16, 2014


Welcome back to prime time coverage of the Spinster Stitcher Stitching Olympics.  I'm your host, Stewey Willowswamp, coming to you live from Happy Chair Stadium.

Well, it's been a rough week for our competitor.  Project selection and preparation went smoothly, but in the initial time trials, she faltered, stumbled, tripped, and then fell face first:

What can I say, folks?  The sheer disappointment of such a meagre attempt ths far has made our contender, the crowd, and the judges very restless.

Fortunately, coaches were called in and a plan was assembled:
Obviously, this blueprint should have been in place well before the Opening Ceremonies, but it would seem that our contender was more interested in eating Trisha Yearwood's Charleston Cheese Dip than she was concerned with training.  A costly, costly mistake indeed.

As our next week of competition begins, we'll see if our stitch-lete can overcome such a huge obstacle, gain momentum, and finish with some modicum of dignity.  It will be difficult, to be sure, but a chance of Olympic gold should provide the necessary motivation to push forward.

Until then, I bid you a good evening.  Please join us again soon on this channel for full coverage.   Thank you for watching.  Good night.

Feb 13, 2014


Hey, kids!  While you're waiting for some Olympic stitching updates, please enjoy a rant that percolated in my tiny brain last week.....

The new pope of the Catholic Church is a real pip.  He's got this bizarre notion that priests should tend to their flocks instead of amass airline miles attending conferences, and he has been consistently delivering this message:  "Wake up, kids.  Time to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, comfort the sick, etc. etc. etc.  We need to get back to spiritual basics and re-prioritize ourselves."  And then he went and fired the Bishop of Bling in Germany (or wherever the guy was), refused to move into the Papal Ritz, and pretty much eschewed the wearing of the gold lame' and the big fat ruby ring.

(Rumor has it that he's not wearing the red shoes, either, but I haven't seen a picture of his feet yet to confirm this, so stay tuned.)

It is my humble opinion that this guy has the mental fierceness of a Jesuit, combined with the good nature of a Fransciscan, all wrapped up in the outfit of an old-school priest who didn't think a thing of inviting his homey to ride in the Popemobile with him for a spin around St. Peter's.

(Did you see that, by the way?  There's the Pope....tooling around the masses in the middle of the square, when all of a sudden he sees a guy from home and invites him to hop on board and go for a ride.  Can you imagine the conversation that took place in the Secret Service office THAT afternoon?) point is, I think this guy is pretty interesting as popes go, and I can't wait to see what he does next.

So, with all of that in mind, I share with you the news that a) my beloved Alma Mater just inked a $100 million dollar deal with UnderPants (or some other crazyass uniform place) to dress up the football team for the next billion years and b) they announced a $400 million expansion of the football stadium.

$400 million.


Of the FOOTBALL stadium.

Now all of this wouldn't have been so bad were it not for the fact that the Board of High Exhalted PooBaas of my beloved university had a audience with the Pope (pleasee see above for context here), the day AFTER the announcement of the $400 million expansion of the football stadium was announced and TWO days after the $100 million deal with UnderPants was effected.

Let's go to the Vatican, shall we, and peek in on what I really really hope was the conversation....

BABBO (that would be the Pope):  Fr. John, welcome to Rome!  Thank you for coming to visit and for bringing along your very highly exalted entourage of what I presume to be extremely important peoples.

FR. JOHN (that would be Jenkins.  John Jenkins. President of You Know Where):  Thank you, Babbo.  It's a pleasure to be here (he bends, kissing the ring).  

(It is at this moment that a papal aide discreetly clears his throat to get Babbo's attention.  He leans forward, whispers something in Babbo's ear, and hands him a copy of the previous day's South Bend Tribune.)

(The Pope reads...brows furrowing.)

BABBO:  Fr. John, I see here that you announce great things.  But my's not so good.  What is "stadium".  Is this a place for prayer and contemplation?

FR. JOHN:  Uh, no, Your Holiness.  The stadium is where we play football.

BABBO:  Ah!  Football!  So you are going to take this $400 million and make a place for all of the little children of the world to come play soccer in the name of wolrd peace, no?

FR. JOHN:  (Looking sideways for help from his entourage).  Uh, no, Your Holiness.  Football, as in American style football.  You know -- with pads and helmets and a funny shaped ball?  We have a team called the Fighting Irish, and they play their games in this building.

BABBO:  Oh, I see.  So the $400 million is going to help pay for these poor young men to better themselves on the field of sport, while getting in touch with their Catholic identity as students at your university?

FR. JOHN:  Uh, not exactly Your Holiness.  You see, our football team is already pretty well funded by our new corporate marketing partners, UnderPants.  THAT deal, which we just announced, was worth about $100 million.  THIS deal is for the expansion in which the new $100 million team will play.

BABBO:  Hmmm.  OK.  Again, my English.  It says here that the building will house new features that will further the tradition and Catholic identity of the university.  So these rooms here (he points at the architectural rendering on the front page of the paper)...this is where the praying and the ministering to the poor will take place?

FR. JOHN:  Uh, no.  Those are the new luxury sky boxes.

BABBO:  Sky boxes.  So that one can draw closer to heaven?

FR. JOHN:  Uh,  not exactly.  Sky boxes so that our wealthy alumni have a special place to have cocktails and watch the football game.

BABBO:  (Again pointing to the rendering).  And this room here?  A chapel?  A place for the poor of the community to come if they are in need of shelter?

FR. JOHN:  Nope.  That would be the new ballroom.

BABBO:  Ballroom?  You mean for more of the football?

FR. JOHN:  Uh, no.  Ballroom,  For dancing and parties, and concerts and other important scholarly functions that will help further the identity and mission of our Catholic institution.

BABBO: What about on this side of the football place? (He points to the eastern expansion).

FR. JOHN: (Smiling brightly.) Oh!  That's the new three-story rock wall!

BABBO:  Ah!  Rock wall!  You mean for praying and reflecting, like the one in Israel?  A very holy place where the peoples can come to talk to God and unburden their soul to Him?

FR. JOHN:  No (face falling), a rock wall that our students, faculty, and wealthy alumni can climb on for recreation.  You, know, Your Holiness, for when they get bored or have an extra twenty or thirty thousand dollars a year that they'd like to donate to us in the memory of somebody that was important to them.

BABBO:  (Looking at the rendering while mentally calculating the number of peoples that the $400 million could have fed, clothed, educated, nurtured, and otherwise saved.)  Well, thank you for coming to visit us today, Fr. John.  Here's a blessing for you (he makes the sign of the cross over group).  Please have a safe journey home.  (He turns to his papal aide, slowly shaking his head in disbelief, finishes his work for the day, gets in his Ford Focus and drives himself home to his studio apartment.)

The entourage makes its way to the exit, gets into the waiting limousines, and heads for the luxury jet that will take them to the next destination in their journey -- a yacht moored off the Amalfi coast.

The End.

I'm posting this here rant almost two full weeks after all of that happened.  Can you imagine what the rant would have been like if I would have actually let loose on the very day?  There's not enough soap on the planet to wash out THIS potty mouth, I tell ya!

Olympic stitching is coming along pretty nicely.  I will try to get a few pictures taken and give y'all an update! Until then....hope you're surviving whatever it is that's going on outside your window, and that you're warm and safe and dry with needles loaded and flying!

Feb 9, 2014


Stewey and I headed over to Aunt Chrissy's on Friday night for the opening ceremonies of Sochi, but I didn't start stitching anything for the Olympics until last night.  I suppose you could say that I was too captivated by the spectacle of it all, but the truth of the matter is that I was too busy stuffing my face with Trisha Yearwood's Charleston Cheese Dip.

(Just a word of warning, kids.  Don't do it to yourself.  Deadly, deadly stuff.)

So for the games this year, I decided to concentrate on two projects.  The first is Rosewood Manor's Winter Quakers:

The second is Laura J. Perin's Starry Nights, but done in red white and blue threads:

Now before you point out that there is NOT much progress despite the seven and a half hour marathon session of last evening, may I just point out that I had to stitch, frog, and re-stitch the darn outline on that mo-teef TWICE while trying to watch the new Slope thingie event, in which we propel ourselves off the side of a cliff with a piece of shiny wood strapped to our feet.

Holey Schmoley, those kids are nuts.

(Before I forget, can I just say a big fat BRAVO to the Canadian delegation?  I thought your outfits were really swell for the opening ceremonies, and if I wasn't so completely rotund, I would think about finding a pretty red pea coat of my very own to sport through the tundras of Michiana.)

(And THANK YOU, Mr. Lauren, for burning the United Airlines Flight Attendants' unis for our US team this time and a thumbs up on the pretty sweaters.  I'll take two, please.  Size extra, extra small for You Know Who and size semi-truck hit by a bus for Moi).

Today will find me in the Happy Chair stitching away.   I hope that you, too, get to enjoy a marvelous Sunday with those you love and a threaded needle or two for company!

Woo Hoo!

(P.S.  As for the recipe for that cheese dip, you can find it on the Food Network site, or you can just combine cream cheese, mayo, Monterrey jack cheese, cheddar cheese, green onions, bacon, and cayenne pepper in a casserole dish, top it with crushed Ritz crackers, and then bake until melty and gooey.  Dip a Frito or two in there and you're going to want to slap your mamma.  I promise.)

Jan 28, 2014


My mom can't come to the blog right now...she's pouting in the big girl sleigh bed because I won the coin toss and we watched intelligent TeeVee programming these last few days rather than zone out in front of a Mob Wives marathon.

The first thing we watched was a documentary on HBO about the political cartoonist Herblock.  It was riveting, and I so enjoyed learning more about that part of American political journalism.  Mo-ther didn't understand most of what was presented, but it did give her pause and stimulated a bit more than her normal drool-inducing fare.

Then we caught an episode of Charlie Rose on which he discussed a new documentary called "Tim's Vermeer".   Oh, how I wish we lived in The City or Los Angeles so that we could attend the limited release premier.  Instead, I will have to add it to my Netflix queue and hope that Mo-the doesn't ground me from my ipad before I can catch it.

Today we watched a lengthy documentary on J.D. Salinger.  I believe it was part of the PBS series Ameican Experience, and I can tell you that I was completely riveted from the moment it started.  I have yet to read much Salinger, but am now determined to do so.

All of this intellectual stimulation has not been for naught, I think.  I heard Mo-ther on the phone with Aunt Chrissy earlier, and I think they had a relatively normal conversation that did not involve the normal banalities.

Stitching tonight will be on Shepherd's Bush "Snow Hill".  As soon as more progress is made, I'll be sure to share some photos with you.

Until then, my friends, I do hope that you are doing whatever it is you want to do.  I am going to retire early tonight with Donna Tartt's Goldfinch...a novel that I am enjoying immensely.  Do you suppose Mo-ther can be persuaded to allow me a small sip of sherry whilst I read away the evening?

Take care, dear friends.  I remain your layal and devoted pal.

Jan 27, 2014


Is anybody else tired of talking about how freakin' cold it is?  Stewey and I are hunkered down with dietCoke and pot roast for sustenance, and I'm pretty sure we've entered the hibernation phase of the festivities.  Wake me when it's Spring.....OK?

Last night I put the final stitch into Plum Street Samplers "Hare's Winter".   (I changed the colors of their little outfits in anticipation of Sochi.)  I also used one ply of light blue and one ply of dark blue to come up with the look for the border stitches.  

It's too cold to get out of the Happy Chair, so I will probably pick up Come Tarry for a few hours tonight.  Tomorrow I will head to the studio for a few new things for the basket.  I'm percolating ideas for Olympic stitching, so stay tuned!  (Aunt Chrissy and I had to postpone our get-together, but are determined to do so this weekend.)  I know it will be a canvas work piece, and I know it will be red, white, and blue, but that's about as far as I've gotten.

Jan 24, 2014


Does anybody have a six year old that they can loan me for a few days?  Apparently, that's what it's going to take for me to figure out how to use this contraption.

If you've sent me an email in the last several months and I have not responded to you, please do write again.  My account went bye bye for a while and for the life of me I can't find stuff from August 2013 until now.

Stewey thinks it's time to allow his personal secretary, Nigel, to give it a go, but methinks I'd be wise not to open THAT particular can of worms.  I mean, after all, the poor fellow is having a hard enough time catering to the whims of You Know Who and his propensity for pointing out that finding a classically trained British butler was hard enough without me messing about with it all.

Damn dog.

Jan 22, 2014


Believe it or not....I am often asked questions about my particular habits when it comes to this thing of ours.  One of the questions that I'm asked most frequently is "Hey, Spinster Stitcher!  Why the heck do you start all of your projects in the lower left corner?"

I've pondered and pondered and pondered how to answer this in a way that will convince you that I am NOT, in fact, a nutball of the highest orders, but alas,  I am unable to do so.

So with that in mind....

I start all of my projects in the lower left corner because I have the compulsive need to create a piece from the ground up.  When you combine that with the fact that I also have some sort of warped and twisted fear that the stitches I've put in will somehow slide off the bottom of the piece unless there's a border there to stop them, you can see how my epitaph rings so very true.

(Remember....tombstone?...."It wasn't easy being me")

So there you have it.   I start my projects at the lower left corner because of a pathological need to control everything around me (except, apparently, what I stuff into my gaping maw each day), and the pathological fear I have that if we stray too far we might just fall off of the edge of something like a needlework project, or the Earth, depending upon your perspective.

See?  Told ya.

Nut.  Ball.

Jan 20, 2014


Oh, what fun we're having here at Chez Spinster!  I'm not sure why, but I have been stitching my eyeballs out these last few days and have been enjoying every moment of it.

This is Shepherd's Bush "Come Tarry".  It's one of my very favorite pieces, and I hope that I'm smart enough to get this framed and on the wall, rather than let it languish in the FUPPY box once I get it done.

I am pretty sure that what gets me about this one is the saying...."Wisdom tells me I am nothing.  Love tells me I am everything."    It's The Drawn Thread, by the way.

Aunt Chrissy and I are going to get together on Wednesday night to start planning our Olympic stitching.  Since I'm a four-year old and can't wait that long, I thought I would play with this in the meantime.  See the little bunnies?  I'm going to make their little outfits look like US oufits (but without the normal American Airlines meets Ralph Lauren's crazy sister element).

(Stewey wants to know why they haven't approached him to serve on the committee yet.  I keep telling him that an entire delegation of athletes prancing about in silk smoking jackets and cravats would not be good for anybody, but he just mutters something about me being a Philistine and goes back to doing whatever it is that he does to pass the time with his idiot mo-ther.)

Apparently, this is what he does to get away from his idiot mo-ther.

That's it for now, kids.  I hope you're warm and safe and dry and that your very own tummy is toasty!

Jan 14, 2014


Well, first let me express my very best and most heartfelt THANK YOU for all of your concern about my's it called?....oh yeah, that's right....calamity.

I took your good advice and called my doctor, and she suggested a crash helmet and assisted living.  (Seriously...I had a CT scan this morning and think all must be well since nobody hollered anything about cutting my head open STAT!)  I did quite a number on myself, though, so it looks like I will be taking lots of epsom salt baths, popping a few muscle relaxers, and just generally taking it easy for a bit.  But can I just say that when one tumbles to the ground like a sack of hammers, it is so good to know that there are wonderful people out there who will gently tell you to get yourself to the doctor and stop screwing around.

Life goes on, my friends.  Stewey and I are tucked into the Happy Chair with the latest stitchy fun:

I hope that wherever you are is exactly where you want to be and that you will stay warm and safe and dry (and UPRIGHT) !

Jan 12, 2014


Several years ago, I told Aunt Chrissy that I wanted my tombstone to have five simple words on it.  I'm not sure if she paid any attention to me at the time, but after the events of yesterday morning I'm pretty sure that she's called the undertaker and gotten a jump on the whole sorry mess.  (*)

I awoke at the crack of Farmer Stewey needing to go outside to potty at the ridiculous hour of 4am and then finally decided to haul myself out of the big girl sleigh bed at 7.  Aunt Chrissy and I had plans to run errands, so I threw on a fleece and some slippers and headed out to grab the paper for a quick run-through with my first Starbucks.

When I caught sight of the trash and recycling bins, I realized that I had forgotten to drag them to the curb, so I grabbed the big ass blue recycling bin and started down the driveway with my pajamas flapping in the breeze.  I turned and started back up the driveway to gather the trash bin, when WHOOSH!! my legs decided to go right, while the rest of me decided to go left.  

Down I went into the cold four and half inches of ice water, slush and driveway salt.  

Fortunately I am extremely well-padded so after a quick look around, I bounced back up, brushed myself off, and breathed a sigh of relief that nobody seemed to be the wiser that I had just landed slightly to the left of my big fat fanny in a puddle of muck.

A normal person would have immediately gone back inside to hide in shame (and change out of her soaking wet and frozen pajams), but this is me we're talking about.

I headed back into the garage to grab the trash can and was doing well enough getting it to the curb when my entire lower body catapulted itself eighteen feet up into the air in front of me and I landed. Hard  On.  The.  Top.  Of.  My.  Pointy.  Little.  Head.

It knocked me out cold, I'm sorry to report, because when I came to, I was flat on my back in the middle of the fours and a half inches of ice water, horrified that I had just broken my neck because I was too damn lazy to drag the freakin garbage can to the curb the night before.

This time I didn't look around to see if anybody saw me -- probably because my glasses had flown off my face and I couldn't see anything more than six inches in front of my face.  So I stumbled inside, collapsed onto the laundry room floor and had a good long cry.

(Stewey, of course, was soundly asleep in the big girl sleigh bed the entire time this was happening.)

Once I calmed myself down enough to stand, I called Aunt Chrissy, who gently walked me through an emergency triage of questions..."Are you bleeding?...Is anything broken?...Is your vision blurred or are you in any pain?...etc etc etc."   We decided that a call to 9-1-1 wasn't warranted, so I took a deep breath, pulled on my eighteen year old sweatpants, and got on with it.

Today is...interesting.  The lemon-sized lump that had been on my head is now a perky little golf ball, and as long as I don't have to move, I'm feeling pretty good.  A few Tylenol and a vat of dietCoke later, and I'm sure I'll be back to normal (or as close to normal as this particular spinster can get) soon.

(*)  What's the five words, you ask?  In a lovely font, I'd like my tombstone to say:  IT WASN'T EASY BEING ME.

Jan 9, 2014


My stupid Mo-ther cannot seem to leave well enough alone, but I'm giving her a pass this time because she started a lovely piece called "Love and Wisdom" from The Drawn Thread that I hope to hang in my pee edd a tare once it's finished and suitably framed.