Before we commence with the random blathering of the day, I thought I would share a little progress on "Joyful Summer". Now, please keep in mind that I fully intend to put more beads on this sucker than a Vegas showgirl....so stay tuned. (Which reminds me of what started this mess with the beads....there I was, minding my own business stitching this piece when a voice in my head said: "I FEEL THE NEED....THE NEED....TO BEAD.")
Edited to add: You wanna' know what's even worse than the above paragraph? Well, imagine me....ME! rolling around on the floor practically wetting myself because I crack my own self up so much. Pathetic. Just pathetic.
(Which reminds me of a day in sixth grade when Sister Catherine Noreen yelled at the top of her lungs...."Constance! I can assure you that despite whatever is going on in that stupid head of yours, you are NOT as funny as you think you are!")
(May she rest).
And now on to a topic that has been on my mind a LOT lately, especially since I have been the blushing recipient of these lovely blogging awards. I do love them so, but always feel a bit perplexed as to how I select only a few of yous to pass it along to. I mean, it's like asking me to pick a favorite food. Or stitchy project. Or puppy. So I cop out and say "Oh, I couldn't possibly" and then feel like a boob for a day and a half. So suffice it to say that I do feel that EVERY SINGLE STITCHY BLOGGER out there should get EVERY SINGLE STITCHY BLOGGER AWARD available, since you are putting it out there and contributing to the furthering of the artform. Besides, reading 400+ blogs a day keeps me off the streets and out of harm's way, so perhaps we should think of these awards as HUMANITARIAN as well.
So did ya' see that Ms. Laura J. Perin Her Very Self nominated me for one of the said awards? Did ya? Huh huh? Did ya? Laura J. Perin. You don't have to scroll back very far in this bloggy mess of mine to learn that I have had a serious stitchy crush on her from the moment I laid eyes on that very first chart. Ahhhh, I remember it well. It's called "Equilibrium" and I looked at it and looked at it and looked at it every day and promised myself that "someday when" I would stitch it and hang it on my wall and be very very proud. (I'll let you know how that works out, by the way.
This, of course, lead me to thinking about me and my celebrity crushes. Laura J. Perin is certainly one, but I have hundreds more. There's all of you (of course), and then there's SamToft, who, I am thrilled to report, sent me an email today! Me! An email from Sam Toft! Hot damn, I'm on a roll. Now if I could just get Chef Robert Irvine His Very Self to come give me a kiss on the cheek I would die a happy girl. (Note to self....must depilatorize cheek before said visit from Chef Robert Irvine. No need to scare the man with a full beard and mustache.) (Hey....I'm Greek and Italian. Let it go.)
I'm frantically reading "Brideshead Revisitied" because I am determined to go to the theater tomorrow night for the premier. I saw a preview for the flick when Chrissy and I went to see "Sex and The City" and thought it looked like the perfect movie to get lost in on a hot summer night. So I'm going to take the book outside onto the patio and not come in until it's done. Send flashlights and bug spray, please.
What's that? You want to know where "Aunt Pooh" comes from? Well, I'll tell you. I am the lousy stinking no-good Godmother to two wonderful girls named Jacqueline and Sara. They live in Lima, Ohio (our hometown, by the way....hi Lima!), and they are....hmmmm...well, I have no damn idea how old they are because of...well, see above. When the girls were little, I demanded that they give me a cute nickname so that I could prance around like the Princess I am and tell everybody what a perfect Godmother I am. I picked "Pooh" since I intended to decorate their nursery with all things Winnie. Two commemorative plates and a baby blanket later and these kids were definitely "over" the whole Pooh thing. But the name stuck. So Aunt Pooh I be, even if I haven't called, written, or seen these chicklets in over a year. (Denise, if you're reading this, I fully understand if you'd like me to return the Fairy Godmother wand and badge...it'll be in tomorrow's mail.)
One thing I DID manage as a Godmother was to teach little Sara something that completely irritated the hell out of her parents. I was living in New Jersey at the time, and when they came to visit me, I taught Sara to say "Who's betta' than you?" every time somebody did something. So the next time they went to the grocery store and the clerk handed Denise her change, this little voice piped up from the stroller below....."Who's betta' than you? (in a perfect Jersey accent to boot)" I was told that it was quite the hit at the Clyde Evans that day.
OK, I'll leave you with a wish for a Happy Thursday. I need to go downstairs to attend to poor little Stewey. He sneezed and "tooted" at the same time moments ago, and this has sent him straight under the bed in a hysterical fit. You'd think with all of the bodily functions that go on around here he wouldn't be so skittish, but this is Stewey we're talking about.
Thanks for coming! Ciao for now!