AW, SHUCKS

Well, I just don't know what to say about all of your lovely comments about my FEE NEE of Quaker Diamonds.

Oh who the hell am I kidding? I know exactly what to say and feigning false modesty has never ever been my strong suit.

WOO HOO LOOK AT MEEEEEEE! I WORKED ON A STITCHY PROJECT FOR A WHOLE MONTH AND A HALF AND DIDN'T PUT IT DOWN ONCE. AND NOW THAT'S IT'S DONE I THINK IT'S THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING I'VE EVER SEEN AND I SHOULD BE CROWNED QUEEN HIGH EXALTED OF THE UNIVERSE BECAUSE I'M JUST SO FAMN DANTASTIC!

Or something like that.

But seriously....do you ever wonder why we all walk around blushing furiously when somebody makes a nice comment about our stitching? And then we say "Oh, thank you, but it's not that great. The back is messy, the stitches aren't perfect, blah blah blah." Why do we do this? And, more importantly, why do we do this when we are secretly giving ourselves cramps from doing an internal Happy Dance while simultaneously patting ourselves on the backside?

Stitching isn't rocket science, I'll grant you, but it is hard to do (in some cases), time consuming, and demanding of one's inner creativity, need to produce, and propensity for collecting. It takes up large portions of our days, even larger portions of our wallets, and we spend hours and hours and hours not just stitching, but reading about stitching, planning our stitching, shopping for stitching, and then fantasizing about stitching.

So let's be honest and just say that we all just FREAKIN' ROCK because we're in this thing of ours and recognize the fact that finishing something and then having your stitchy pals comment about it feels absolutely wonderful.

Once again, may I just say....thank you.

Last night I pranced around until Stewey told me to knock it the hell off already and then I headed up to the studio to fish out something that would qualify as my next stitching adventure.

(A note about my use of the word "studio". I know that it throws a lot of people, and those poor souls who have never had needle and thread in hand can't for the life of them figure out what the heck one does in a "needlework studio". I also risk the chance that you will think me pretentious and snotty and that rather than just saying "the big ass room where I keep all of my stitchy crap", I call it a "studio". As if I were up there painting the Mona Lisa or sculpting the heiney on the David or something. But the truth is that I call it a "studio" because it sounds so much nicer than "the room over my garage" or "upstairs". "Studio" implies that I create and rest and clear my head and solve all the problems of the universe up there. It also means that Aunt Chrissy and I can have Studio Saturday and that we can combine this with MooMoos and Mocktails and rewrite Spinster history. So if you're offended by the use of the word "studio", might I suggest that you create one for your very own self? And if you don't have a whole room or closet for your stitching stuff, why can't your stitchy BASKET be your studio? Or the chair that you sit in? Or the kitchen table? It's all a state of mind, really.)

(Just like my "library" happens to be two crappy bookshelves and a box full of old magazines stuffed into a closet. See? Studio and library. What more could a Spinster want in this life?)

Boy, did I go off the reservation on that one, or what?

Here's the chart that I pulled and then clutched to my droopy boobs all night long...with hopes and dreams of getting it under way:
Alas, it was pure torture for me since I didn't have one darn piece of linen that would work for this. The chart calls for Lakeside Linens "Tarnished Silver", but I don't have anything remotely close to this in Ye' Olde Pile O' Linen. So I woke up bright and early this morning, took Stewey for his constitutional, and then picked the phone up and called Ms. Amy at Down Sunshine Lane.

You know how things are just meant to be? Well, this one most definitely was, because Amy had the perfect package of linen just for me and it's winging it's way to me as we speak.

(Here's where I need to apologize to Amy for babbling on like some king of hepped-up idiot while on the phone today. What can I say other than the fact that I was THRILLED to meet another one of my stitchy heroes on the phone?)

(Amy, if you'd like to learn more about this, Laura J. Perin can tell you all about my blathering on and on and one and how sometimes you just have to accept the fact that the President of your Official Fan Club is a whack-a-do.)

So today I'm going to putz about the house and see what kind of trouble I can get into. Methinks it's time to do a little re-organizing of things and perhaps the vacuum cleaner will make an appearance. I also want to get a few minutes of PUMPKIN (!) in with Stewey out in the front yard, since he seems to be a little forlorn at the overall lack of physical activity around here.

Happy Monday! I hope that you're off to a rip-roaring start to the week! Woo Hoo!