FUTZINGDAY

Stewey and I have started a new tradition here at Chez Spinster. I was sitting in the Happy Chair yesterday, quite bleary-eyed and in great anticipation of that first hot sip of morning joe, when Stewey jumped up into my lap and said:

STEWEY: Mo-ther, I don't feel like doing anything today. Would it be at all possible for me to snooze on my perch while you stare at the walls? Or, if you prefer, we could go upstairs and I could snooze in the studio chair while you stare at your bins and bins and bins of stitchy crap.

I pondered this for a moment or two and then decided that it sounded like a plan.

As I was upstairs pawing through my stitchy crap, I said:

MO-THER: You know, Stewey, today is Wednesday and some people call it hump day.

To which Stewey replied:

STEWEY: Tee hee hee hee heee. You said "hump", Mo-ther.

I gave up on the idea of carrying on any further intelligent discourse with him, and decided instead to come up with a nickname for the day that wouldn't send him into hysterical little fits.

MO-THER: Why don't we call this Futzingday? Each week we could decide to do absolutely nothing at all except futz about, and since the futzing would now have an official day, we could feel very organized that we were, in fact, futzing on the appropriate Futzingday.

Stewey thought about this for a minute and then said:

STEWEY: Mo-ther, you have a way of taking the spontaneity and fun out of everything.

So we had our very first Futzingday yesterday, and I am happy to report that it was just what the stitchy gods ordered. I played around with all of my stitchy crap, kitted up a few new projects, fretted over a few old projects, and started stitching a new piece that I'm going to keep secret for a little while until I'm sure that I won't abandon it and then will have to feel guilty that I blogged all about the damn thing and then never picked it up again.

I did finish the X on the Trip Around The World Quilt and was thiiiiiiis close to starting the Y when I decided to take a short break. I'll need to move the linen on the q-snaps, and since we all know how much angst and hair-pulling THAT will entail, I decided to postpone it for a day or two.

But I am very very happy with the X:


This morning as I was (once again) sitting bleary-eyed in the Happy Chair awaiting that first hot sip of morning joe, I caught this out of the corner of my eye out in the back forty:
Doesn't look like much, I know, but in real life this freakin thing stood about seven feel tall and had a body the size of a small Buick. I am assuming that it was a wild turkey because of the way it walked/waddled away, but considering how I have never seen a wild turkey and was also overcome by an attack of the vapours when I realized that this thing was big enough to serve ME for its Thanksgiving dinner, I'm just not sure.

(Stewey, of course, was completely non-plussed and decided that it's a good thing it wasn't a ham.)

I've received a lot of inquiries regarding tomorrow morning's festivities and whether or not Little Lord Fauntleroy and I will be attending/watching the coverage. By way of explanation, here's the conversation that took place last night before bedtime:

STEWEY: Mo-ther, did you happen to pick up my morning suit at the tailor's today?

MO-THER: No, um, gee, er, I.....didn't get to it. It was Futzingday. Remember?

STEWEY: Well, please be advised that my valet expects to wake me at 3:46, and he will most certainly want to give it a quick pressing while I'm in the bath.

MO-THER: Can't you just wear a nice little hat or something?

STEWEY: (to himself) I could have thrived with a smarted owner.

(He sighs audibly as Mo-ther grunts, rolls over, and starts snoring loud enough to rattle the windows. Momentarily, he wonders if there's enough time to make it to O'Hare to catch a flight to Heathrow, but then realizes that ever since that incident at Buckingham Palace, he probably wouldn't be allowed extrance, and he doesn't want to spend the weekend locked in the Tower of London. He pees on the drapes, looks with disgust at his sleeping mo-ther, and decides to set the DVR instead.)