Or something like that.
When I was a little girl, my grandma Loukos used to say "Coni Dough, you're a little bull head". She told me this, because whenever somebody told me I couldn't do this or that, I would place my hands on my hips (which were tragically large, even then), and I would screw up my face with the sheer determination of somebody who was going to grow up to be the very first Queen High Exalted of the Unites States of America.
Or Miss Universe. Whichever came first.
I see that Stewey filled you in on my little stitchy mishap with the LHN "Traveling Stitcher". Yes, it was tragic, and yes, I feel like the biggest boob on the planet for getting that far before realizing my mistake, but I'm happy to report that it's all forgotten now.
After consultation with Aunt Chrissy, I decided to just put the project down for a bit and play with something else in my toy box. So I went over to the dining room table (where I keep a few stitchy things in a basket because I'm too damn lazy to walk up the 14 stairs to the stitching studio), and I saw an amazing miracle of science. Or maybe it was just happenstance. Either way, it has resulted in this:
Right there before my very eyes was a fat quarter of "Peach Orchard" linen from Silkweavers that had just come in the mail not two days ago. And it just HAPPENED to be laying right on top of the damn stitcher traveling wallet thingie, and it just HAPPENED to be the most very perfect color, texture, and shade for this piece in the whole entire wide wide world.
I had the sucker cut and on q-snaps faster than you can say "What 32 count lambswool linen that came with the kit and that you wasted THREE ENTIRE STITCHY DAYS ON BECAUSE YOU'RE A MORON AND CANNOT READ A STITCHY CHART?". I was tempted to start with the house on the right, but decided not to tempt fate. I stitched the little girl (who shall heretofore be known as Coni Dough), and got all of the green parts done before calling it a night. Wall. La.
Stewey and I just finished watching "Grey Gardens", and he had the dustmop in his little paws before the credits rolled. I think it kinda freaked him out a little when I said "You know? I could see that happening to me. One day you forget to empty the dishwasher, and the next thing you know you're feeding a raccoon in the dining room".
He was not amused.
So don't cry for us, Scranton. I'm in the Happy Chair with the stitching and Stewey is on his perch watching the ducks make a mess of the new mulch in the back gardens. (Well, I would like to think of them as the back gardens, but the fact of the matter is, they are just a few feet of mulch surrounding the patio. On which Aunt Chrissy will HAPPILY place all of the furniture. Next weekend. Please.)