Apr 18, 2009


My mom can't come to the blog right now. I've sent her to her room so that the profanity that's spewing forth from her mouth won't hurt my little ears.

It all started on Wednesday when Mom decided to start the "Traveling Stitcher" thingie from Little House Needleworks. Aunt Chrissy came over and put the edges on the linen, because Mom is not allowed to use the sewing machine up in the studio without adult supervision, and I wasn't available for consultation.

So she started stitching this as she does with almost all of her cross stitchy projects...in the very middle. When Mom looked at the chart, she was tickled pink because there are these very convenient arrows on the top and side of the chart that allow her to find the middle pretty easily.

So she did. And she started stitching.

As you might have guessed, this project is actually two charts for two different pieces of the traveling thingie, but they are on the same piece of paper. So the ARROWS that Mom thought were so fabulous are actually for the center of the PAPER and NOT THE CHART THAT SHE WAS STITCHING. I suspect that Mom didn't figure this out because she had folded the right side of the paper back so that she could concentrate on one chart at a time. Tragic, tragic mistake.

I was watching "You've Got Mail" tonight and I glanced over at Mom's stitching, and I noticed right away that the house looked like it was waaaaaaay too far over and that if she kept on stitching this thingie in this fashion she would run out of linen on the left hand side. I suppose that I should have kept this to myself, because when I pointed it out, Mom sat in stunned silence for a good three and a half minutes. (And if you know my mom, you know that's a LOT of time).

Well, lemme' tell ya'. The q-snaps went flying, the ottoman got knocked over, and a bottle of gin suddenly appeared (I didn't' even know we HAD gin). After stomping around in her bedroom shoes for a while, the old lady let loose with swear words that I don't think I've ever heard...not even on HBO. I finally coaxed her into the bedroom with a piece of red licorice and got the door shut, but I'm sure that at any minute she's going to come back out and look for her car keys. You see, when Mom gets REALLY frustrated with a stitchy project, she throws it out into the driveway and runs over it with the car. Repeatedly.

So that's the report from Chez Spinster this evening. Don't worry about me, Argentina. I've got the dart gun all loaded up with some "sleepy juice" and I'm not afraid to use it if necessary. I also called my Aunt Chrissy to tell her what's happening over here, so I would bet that at any minute now she'll come to get me for a sleepover at her house.

I hope your weekend is going better than mine. I did all of the laundry today and dusted the living room, but all Mom saw was the puddle I left by the Happy Chair. Sometimes, there's just no pleasing the woman.

See ya' soon!


  1. Hi Stewey,

    Your poor Momma!!!

    That's so frustrating when it happens!

    Let her know that she can turn the house that she has stitched into a smaller design. Just add some of the design around both sides and she can let everyone know that she planned it that way!

    Then break out the chocolate!

    Windy Meadow

    By the way, would you please come over to my house and dust?

  2. Poor Stewey, your momma should appreciate all you do for her! But now she really needs you to take her mind off that stupid chart and those stupid arrows pointing at the wrong center point. So do something charming that will make her smile, then break out the chocolate as Cynthia says. :D

  3. What a revolting development that was!I'd be crying too if I weren't laughing so hard. Stewey, you have such a knack for the written word. I still can't figure out how you are able to type though. Maybe mom can make that house into an ornament and start over? Tomorrow will be a new day and she will emerge and notice all the nice tidying up you did today. Write soon.

  4. Stewey, tell Momma she needs to open the door and let you out in the yard for a pee now and then, there's only so long a little guy can cross his legs.

  5. OMG Stewey, I'd post something way more meaningful than this... but I can't stop laughing.

  6. Stewy, you need your own talk show for sure

  7. Hihi, poor mom. I like the bunny you made, it's so nice. Btw, where is the house thing from? Can you buy the pattern somewhere? I would like to see if it's nice to make our "we are going to move" cards :p

  8. Stewey...Get yourself a publisher!
    You and Mommy need to put all this into a book and sell it and make enough money so that these little 'OOPS' won'tmatter 'cause you'll have lots and lots of money and can start them all over again!
    And you can have your own little butler to clean up your puddles without bothering Mommy!

  9. Stewey, tell Mommy that she's not the only person who was led astray by those misplaced arrows. I also started my project in the wrong spot, and had a lot stitched before I noticed it. It's not her fault--let's blame it on the designer's program, ok? Find Mommy a new piece of linen and she'll be fine.

  10. Uh oh. Stewey, we hate big fat boo boos on our stitchy projects. You may wanna suggest to your Aunt Chrissy that she unstitch that little house and then hand it back to your mom. Then she can just start over and pretend it was a bad dream. Keep the dart gun handy.

  11. c'mon Stewey, come over and do a little dusting here too. Then you can go and play in the back yard with Cookie. Puddles allowed there.

  12. Uh-oh! Sounds like it's a bad day over there. Just let your mom have some gin and things will get better...gin can fix anything.

  13. Stewey, you made me laugh so hard I almost wet my pants!!!

    Stewey you need to have your own book if mot books all ablout your fun adventures!!

  14. Oh Stewey I know what that is like, to be off from a chart. I hope that things got better for you.

  15. I'm sorry your Mom had the problem with Traveling Stitcher. I've been there, which is why I always start my stitching in the top left corner.