DAMN, DRAT, AND FREAKIN' FOOEY

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!
Stewey