MY BAGS ARE PACKED....IT'S TIME TO GO....

Spinster's note: This post was written by Madame Muriel Flossie Flat Grandma as a farewell to Hoosierville. It's a picture-heavy post, but gives a rather sweet snapshot of some of the life and sights here. She hopes you enjoy!
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Well, it looks like it's time for me to travel on to my next destination. Despite a rather ignominious start, and in spite of the smoking jacket wearing talking dog and the idiot spinster, I've had a lovely time of it here in this little part of the world. (Thank God for Aunt Chrissy!). Before I enter my traveling compartment, though, I thought I'd leave you with a few pictures of some of the places that I visited.

The spinster did manage to go to college at the University of Notre Dame. Yes, I will confess to being skeptical about this fact, but once we arrived on campus, I forgot about her and just enjoyed the spectacular architecture. After illegally parking in the Main Circle, a local celebrity introduced himself and then acted as my tour guide. Isn't he handsome?

The long entrance to the university is really quite pretty, and I can imagine that the autumnal colors on all of this foliage would be gorgeous to behold.


The Golden Dome is lovely, and as I understand it, the woman perched on the top of it is the Blessed Virgin Mary. (The spinster calls her the BVM.) And no, just in case you were wondering...I did NOT attempt a climb to the top, despite the urgings of my hostess after one too many dietCokes.

This handsome fellow is on the corner of a mens' dormitory:

And this is a nice example of the gothic style of architecture that permeates the entire campus:

Here's a better shot of that dormitory. Can you imagine living in such a place?

There are hundreds of other beautiful sights to see on the campus of Notre Dame. I know that the spinster is particularly attached to the Grotto, and I would imagine that we could have spent a few days there snapping away. If you'd like to see more, go to: http://www.tour.nd.edu/
to see what all of the fuss is about.

After saying goodbye to the leprechaun (who doesn't have a name, by the way), we headed down US31/933 to downtown South Bend. It's about a five minute drive from the campus. Here's a link to learn more about the town itself: http://www.downtownsouthbend.com/.

The building shown here houses the South Bend Civic Theater. The spinster's never been, of course, because she never seems to leave her house, but it is on the long list of things that she would eventually like to see with Aunt Chrissy. Again, another link for you: http://www.sbct.org/.


Naturally, the very first stop was food related. Here's the South Bend Chocolate Company:

Just next to it is the building that will eventually house the Official Stitcher's Hall of Fame and Other Nice Things To Do On A Saturday Afternoon. At least that's what I heard the spinster tell Aunt Chrissy she wishes it would be. Apparently it is now the College Football Hall of Fame, but within a few months that will be relocating to Atlanta (or some such place), and this entire area will be vacant. The Marriott Hotel in the background is also for sale, so I would imagine that the spinster has some cockamamie idea as to how to include that in a "Stitchers' Complex of Fun and Activity" once she comes up with the four million bucks it will take to buy the place.

Finally....some history! This is Tippecanoe Place (http://www.tippe.com/), the former home of Clement Studebaker. It is now one of the more famous restaurants in the area. A few blocks to the west of it is the Center for History, but the idiot spinster forgot to take me there.

The Morris Performing Arts Center is a gorgeous theatre that was completely renovated and is now considered to be one of the top event venues in the country. http://www.morriscenter.org/ See the three windows to the left? That's the Palais Royale ballroom and was the scene of many a Notre Dame formal ball back in the 50's when the spinster's dad was at Notre Dame.


No visit to South Bend would be complete without a mention of the St. Joe river. Oddly enough, it flows south to north and empties into Lake Michigan some 60 miles away. The East Race Waterway is particularly interesting and is where kayakers from all over the world come to practice and compete. (Don't expect to see the spinster in a kayak any time soon. I don't think they make them that big.) The building to the right is the Century Center and the South Bend Museum of Art and that pavilion is a great place to listen to live music on a summer Friday night. (If the spinster ever left her house, that is.)

I would be remiss to mention that although the focus of this area is usually on Notre Dame and South Bend, the little city of Mishawaka also has a lot to offer. Mishawaka, the Princess City, is about two minutes east of South Bend and is home to both the Spinster Stitcher and Aunt Chrissy. It's often overlooked, but I can promise you that there is a lot to see/eat/do/and shop here. This is Robert C. Beutter Riverfront Park, and if I understood correctly, will now be the location of early morning walks by the SS and AC. (Yeah, I know. We'll all believe that when we see it, right?) If you'd like to learn more about Mishawaka, go to: http://www.mishawaka.in.gov/.


Well, that about wraps it up from here. Now if I might have a drum roll, please. The official drawing of the next hostess's name was conducted last evening under the supervision of the accounting firm of Dewey, Cheatum, and Howe. We forgot to take photographic evidence, so you'll just have to trust me. Ready?

I'm going to New Zealand! (Cue the dramatic Oprah-esque music now). Madame Margaret Stedman has agreed to show me about, and I just couldn't be more thrilled! Margaret, if you would be so kind as to confirm all of your mailing details with the Spinster Stitcher, I'll make sure that she purchases the necessary travel tickets. We'll also need your blog address so that all of the curious stitchers out there can follow my exploits.

Until I see you again....a fond adieu! I'm really enjoying this romp around the world, and I hope you're enjoying it right along with me!

Fondly,
Muriel

FUTZUS CONTINUOUS

The sun is shining...

The squirrels are feasting...
The Spinster is stitching... And Stewey is mending...

Madame Muriel Flossie Flat Grandma is packing today. Destination to be revealed tomorrow! Stay tuned!

MADAME AMBASSADOR, I PRESUME

Please forgive the delay in sending Madame Muriel on to her next unsuspecting victim. (Um, I mean hostess.) I was all ready to stuff her into an envelope (um, I mean, carefully package her in her traveling compartment), when Aunt Chrissy pointed a few things out to me.

"You know", she said as nicely as she could given the circumstances of having to put up with me (and my little dog too) on a daily basis, "People are going to think that the only thing that this part of the state of Indiana has to offer is spoiled rotten little dogs in smoking jackets, sushi restaurants, and a Michael's. That's rather unfair, don't you think, especially in light of all of the negative publicity that South Bend has been getting about being such a crappy place to live."

I did what I always do in these situations. I hung my head in shame and promised to get my proverbial act together and just go out of the damn house already for something other than newspaper retrieval or a Target visit. I decided to really go show Madame Flat Flossie Her Very Self the sights around these here parts.

And then it got hot and humid.

I mean hot and humid enough that when I took Stewey outside for a constitutional, he asked me if we had moved to some sub-tropical place in the middle of the night and whether or not I had appropriately altered my Clinique three-step to reflect the changes in the atmosphere.

So visiting attractions and photographing them and writing about them has been ceremoniously pushed to the big fat back burner with hopes that Aunt Chrissy and I will be able to spend a few minutes on Saturday tooling around with Muriel stuffed into the Vera. (Um, I mean, with Muriel happily along for company.)

As final evidence of this, you will be happy to know that I called the South Bend Chamber of Commerce today and asked the seven year old intern who answered the phone in the Convention and Visitor's Bureau if she would be kind enough to send me a guide. We'll see what comes.

On the stitchy front, progress continues on Stars. I finished up the Ava Gardner block after several nights of extreme angst, but seem to be plowing through Marlon Brando lickety split:

I am still enjoying this piece immensely, and hope that the final result will thrill me as much as the stitching of it has. And may I just send you all a very big and very teary (and somewhat sweaty) THANK YOU for all of the encouragement and lovely comments that you've sent my way about this one? I can hear you out there cheering me on to the finish line. Woo Hoo!

That's all for now. I really should go see what Stewey is up to. His back is feeling a little better, I think, but he and I are having some really really bad "getting along" issues. If I can get him out from under the big girl sleigh bed, I think I need to issue an apology and kiss him a few times on his little nose. He is, after all, my Stewey Little, and I need to keep reminding myself that life without him would not be worth living.

A SUNDAY AFTERNOON POST BY MADAME FLAT GRANDMA FLOSSIE, HER VERY LITTLE SELF

I can't tell you how ready I am to get the hell outta here. I've been to some pretty interesting places in my life, but this Funny Farm needs to have a sign at its entrance that says "Beware all who enter here."

It all started when the little spinster (we'll call her Spinster Minimus) called the big spinster (that would be Spinster Maximus), and said "Put your shoes on and get those quakers out of the fuppy box. I've got a 70% off coupon at the Michaels' and I want to go get them framed".

To which Maximus replied "Well, um, er, I gee...I hadn't planned on getting those framed right away. And besides, it's all hot a icky out and Flat Flossie and I were just getting ready to sit down and go through all of my scrapbooks and memory boxes and photographs from my grade school career."

Thanks be to God above, Her Very Self, the little one showed up ten minutes later.

"Get in the car. We're getting this done today so that when you drop dead I can hang them in my living room. Is the doll going with us?"

At first, I will admit that I was rather offended, but then I considered the fact that this poor woman has a crazy spinster sister and a little talking dog wearing a smoking jacket to contend with. It's any wonder she's not more in her cups.

We headed out for the Michaels, but what should have taken a half hour turned into an all day event. My goodness, but these two like to run their errands! Our first stop was the medical lab for some bloodwork, and then it was off to McDonald's for an early lunch. (I had a salad. They did not.) After a quick run into Wal Mart for contact lenses, we were finally ready to pull into the Michaels' parking lot:
No, I didn't ride on top of the car, but I can tell you that I definitely would have preferred it to the chitter chatter and old lady driving habits that I had to endure from the back seat.

Once inside, we spent several hours in the framing department. OK. So maybe it wasn't several hours, but after ten minutes of Maximus telling the framing person "Oh, I just don't know about this. Can I see that one again? What do you think?", I was ready to head to the tool section for an exacto knife to slit my wrists.

Minimus finally made the selection and I think she chose well. From what I gather, these will hang in the dining room of the big one's house until such time as she croaks, and then they'll hang in the living room of the little one's house. Needless to say, the framing selection was suitable for both locations.

We returned home in time to give the little dog his medicine and then watch him stumble around before falling into a nice deep nap. He sprained his neck this week, and after a few (well several, actually) frantic trips to the vet, he was prescribed pain meds, an anti-inflammatory, and the order of bed rest. He does, however, seem to cope well with this, since his little fort is stocked with cable, an iPad, and all the tea and peanut butter toast he could ask for. When I went in to check on him earlier, I noticed that he also sports some 900-count Egyptian cotton sheets, so methinks the Spinster should rethink the 200-count set that she's got in the guest room.

I'm just saying.

So I'm ready to travel, folks, and cannot wait to find out what my next destination will be. I understand that there will be a ceremonial choosing from the magic can of destiny later this afternoon. If I understood correctly, it looks like there were over 70 of you willing to take me on.

Thanks for listening. I hope that you've had a pleasant weekend and that we'll see each other again soon!

With kindest wishes,
Muriel

STILL REACHING...AND FLAT FLOSSIE IS READY TO ROCK AND ROLL!!!

Another block down...seven to go!

Madame Flat Flossie is ready to start packing! If you would like to host (or hostess her), please shoot me an email to spinsterstitcher@aol.com. I'll put all of the names into a hat (or possibly an old sock), and then pull the winning entry sometime over the weekend.

Gee, I guess that means that the deadline to enter would be Friday, midnight.

(Some restrictions apply. Consult your physician for an e.... whoops! Nope. Not going to go there.)

Hostessing (or hosting) means that you agree to show Madame Flossie a good time, take a few snaps of her visit, blog a bit about it, help her write about her adventures in her Passport, and then send her on to the next destination with a few postcards and a small (yet lovely) little something for the next unsuspecting victim (er, I mean, stitcher). It's a blast, I swear, and you will really enjoy running here and there with a tiny little "person" as your constant companion.

(If I had a nickle for every time somebody came up to me in the Targets and said "What the hell is THAT hanging out of your Vera?, I'd be in Turks and Caicos by now.)

REACH FOR THE STARS!

Good thing I took this totally craptastic picture. I see now that I've missed an entire portion of one of the gold bits. Sigh.

A MONDAY MORNING CONVERSATION WITH MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP, HIS VERY LITTLE SELF

For purposes of demonstration, Master Stewey Angus Willowswamp, His Very Little Self would like to enter the following as Exhibit A:







STEWEY: Mo-ther, you have received several emails in your Spinster Stitcher account, and one in particular has me extremely upset.

MO-THER: (grumble grumble grumble as she wipes up coffeemaker pee from the kitchen counter)

STEWEY: For some reason, several of your stitchy friends think the video entitled "Teasing Your Dog" is quite hilarious and that both you and I would think it cute. I do not.

MO-THER: For cripe's sakes, Stewey. I haven't even had coffee yet and you're already embroiled in a mini drama? How the hell does this happen so early on a Monday morning?

STEWEY: What do you suppose the reaction would be if I were to film a little video of my own and then post it on YouTube so as to create a viral situation?

MO-THER: (not paying any attention to the little dog dressed in a silk smoking jacket, glasses perched at the tip of his nose, paw tapping impatiently)

STEWEY: Imagine if you will.....
SCENE: A modest living room somewhere in the Midwestern United States of America. Framed fully is the face of a somewhat unattractive, yet somehow lovable middle aged spinster. A voice is heard off camera...

VOICE: So I went into a needlework shop.

(The spinster's face tilts, eyes wide with interest as the voice continues).

VOICE: And I got a big basket the size of a Buick.

SPINSTER: So what did you do with the basket?

VOICE: I filled it to the brim with charts and canvases and threads and organizers and scissors and linens and magnets and q-snaps and stretcher bars and hand lotions and magazines and ort jars.

SPINSTER: Oh my gosh! How many things do you think you were able to put into your basket?

VOICE: Oh, thousands. The basket was so big that I had to move it out to the parking lot and then I called for help in filling it up. No matter how much stuff I put in there, it never got full and I just had to keep adding more and more and more.

SPINSTER: OH MY GOSH! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THE BASKET!

VOICE: Well, once I got everything that I wanted, I pulled out a magic credit card and paid for it.

SPINSTER: A MAGIC CREDIT CARD?!!! WHY WAS IT MAGIC?!!!

VOICE: Well, it's magic because not matter how much needlework you put on it, it never reaches a limit.

SPINSTER: You're kidding!

VOICE: No, and when the monthly statement comes, the balance is zero, so you never have to make a payment and you can just keep shopping and shopping and shopping.

SPINSTER: Yeah? (Her ears lay flat against her head and she anxiously gazes into the camera.) So after you bought all of that stuff, what happened next?

VOICE: I woke up.

SPINSTER: WAAAAAAAAAA!

STEWEY: So what do you think of THAT little scenario, Mo-ther? How would you and all of these stitchers that are sending you this thing feel about THAT? Huh?

MO-THER: (not paying any attention at all to the little dog while munching peanut butter toast and trying to figure out the Jumble) Sounds great, honey. Whatever you want. Blah blah blah....

The little dog stomps off in a huff to go pee on the drapes.

So a very big fat smiley THANK YOU to all of you who have sent that video to me. I, for one, think it's pretty darn cute and am determined to find a way to play it on the big TeeVee in an endless loop until you-know-who submits to my every whim. I'm concerned, though, that paybacks might be hell, so I better go hide his iPad.

Damn dog.

A QUICK PIC IN BETWEEN THUNDERSTORMS

Le Printemps

Birds of a Feather

28ct. Platinum linen

WDW, GA, and Impressions

Just a quickie today. All h-e-double-toothpicks has been breaking loose since about 1 o'clock in the morning, so I figured I'd come out of the bunker long enough to show you a little stitchy progress. I thought I would be stitching the summer portion of this series by now, but alas, it is not to be. I'm determined to get this one finished first.

Yup. Trying to do a "Finish two, start something new" routine this summer. Think that will get that WIP list down to double digits?

A POST FROM MADAME FLAT GRANDMA, HER VERY SELF

Hi, all! I've finally found a few moments to myself, so I thought I'd drop a quick post about my adventures here in Hoosierville thus far. (Between us chickens, though, the woman who lives in this dump is pretty nuts, so if I have to go suddenly, it's because she's come up with some cockamamie scheme for an afternoon activity and I need to go pretend that I'm napping.)

My arrival started out well enough. I was shown to the guest room and left to my own devices for a pleasant night's rest. I had expected to be greeted by the dog, but apparently he had another engagement, so he left a note of apology with some artisanal chocolates on my pillow.

(I was pretty sure that this was a harbinger of interesting things to come.)

The Spinster Stitcher is, in fact, an idiot. She seems to be completely clueless as to what constitutes proper hostessing duties, and she insists on calling me Millicent, even though that's not my name. My first few days here were spent listening to the vacuum cleaner and running errands with her sister. (You would think that the Mishawaka Target was Mecca the way these two planned their trip there.) It was almost more than I could take.

After being stuffed into a Vera, I was stuck in the car for what seemed like weeks as we drove from place to place....picking up God knows what and then checking things off of lists. (That seems to be a very big past time here.) By the end of the first day I was ready to chuck myself out of the passenger side window, Vera and all.

Finally, a bit of mercy came my way when I heard the pitter patter of little dog feet coming down the hallway.

"Excuse me, Madame. Might I present myself to you? My name is Master Stewey Angus Willowswamp, My Very Little Self, and I would like to apologize that I have been thus far delayed in welcoming you to our little abode. Duties called me out of the country for a few days, and I've just returned. Won't you please allow me to present my calling card?"

With that, he reached into the pocket of his little silk smoking jacket and pulled out an engraved name card.

(And yes, in case you're wondering, I've fallen down the freakin rabbit hole here and am now stuck in some kind of Alice in SpinsterLand hell. Between the 300-pound hummingbird flitting around and the talking dog wearing a smoking jacket, I'm starting to question my mental state.)

After chatting for a bit and having a nightcap (a delightful little sherry from the Basque region, thank you very much), we decided that we would leave the Spinster to do whatever the hell it is that she does and go out on our own for bit the following day.

The dog has a pretty sweet set up around here, I must say. He awakens at 10:30 am to the soothing sounds of a pan flute, and, weather permitting, has brunch on the patio. Amazingly enough, he reads several newspapers cover to cover and then he retires to his boudoir for his morning toilette. By about 4 or so in the afternoon, he's ready to go.

Getting the car out of the driveway without the Spinster seeing us would have been a problem, were it not for the fact that she was planted in front of her computer monitor, drooling over stitching blogs. Her eyes were rather glazed over and she was muttering to herself, so I'm pretty sure that we could have detonated a bomb in the joint and she wouldn't have moved an inch.

Yes, it's true that we had a little fun at her expense getting out of the neighborhood, but before you think us reckless, may I just point out that the dog has a driver? He's a rather large burly man dressed all in black and wearing an ear piece. When I asked him for his name, and he said "Please call me Number Seven", and then promptly whispered something into his shirt cuff. Very mysterious indeed.

After settling in, we were off. Safety first!:

We drove a few miles to a lovely shopping center called Heritage Square. This is a rather new area of Granger, Indiana, and it promises to be quite a beautiful outdoor marketplace once it's fully stocked with shops and restaurants and such. (I did notice, though, that they are in desperate need of a needlework shop.)

The car pulled up in front of SoHo Japanese Bistro, and before I knew it, there was a crew of about ten people opening doors, rolling out red carpets, and practically genuflecting.

"Mr. Willowswamp. How very nice to see you this evening, sir. Your usual table?"

With that we were lead inside to a wonderful booth, and within seconds huge platters of sushi, appetizers, and all sorts of delicacies were set before us.

(You'll notice that I never once abandoned my stitching. How's THAT for dedication?)

I wasn't too sure what everything was, but with a few minutes of instruction from the dog I was off and running and enjoyed one of the best meals I've had in a very long time.

And then it was time for....sake.

I've never had sake before, so I had no idea what to expect. I seemed fine, I really did, but when I tried to stand up to go to the ladies room everything went sideways and I almost landed face first in the koi pond. Wow. Talk about packing a punch!

(I have absolutely no recollection of posing for that picture.)

The next several hours are a bit of a blur, but I am happy to report that Number Seven executed his duties without incident and we made it home safe and sound. I think, though, that we made several other stops after the restaurant, but every time I ask the little dog about it, he just giggles and says "Oh, I can't wait until the photographs are ready".

(I've since learned that there is a team of photographers that follows the little dog's every move, so once the legal team has looked at them and authorized them for publication, I guess I'm going to see just what the heck I did.)

All I know is that I enjoyed myself tremendously and awoke this morning with what can only be described as the Mother of all Hangovers. I mean it. Those guys in the movie have NOTHING on me, and as soon as the floor stops spinning around, I intend to start looking for the nearest Marriott.

I did manage, though, to get Number Seven to drive me back to Target a while ago for some medicine:

The Spinster tells me that we are going to visit the Studebaker Museum and Notre Dame this weekend. She also tells me that she'd like for me to see a little bit of Amish Country, so we might head over to the Shipshewana and Nappanee area for a few hours.

I just hope I don't throw up in the Vera.

I'll write more as my adventures continue. For now, thanks for sticking with me this long, and please come back again soon!

(God knows I'm going to need witnesses).

GRRRR.....

I'm mean as a snake and twice as ugly today. I know that it is directly related to our weather, which has given me a new appreciation for the fact that I simply do not "do" outdoors. The temperature is approximately the same as that of the west side of the sun and the humidity is enough to make a girl want to take her top off in public. Ugh.

To make matters worse, I awoke to the sounds of the car being pulled out of the driveway, and before I knew it I was watching Stewey and Flat Grandma burn rubber down the street while simultaneously flipping me off. How the two of them managed to get their hands out of the sun roof while steering said vehicle is completely beyond me, but my brain is too foggy to even care at this point.

I did manage to put a few stitches into Stars last night before falling face first into the New Jersey Housewives and Nurse Jackie. I can't decide if all of this ennui is the result of the heat or the TeeVee selections, but I can tell you that my stitchy speed has definitely crawled to a...well...a crawl.

Aunt Chrissy and I have a date tonight! We're going out to dinner with her neighbor, Mr. Joe. It has been a little over two months since Miss Linda's passing, and he seems to be doing OK, but Aunt Chrissy likes to fuss over him like a little hen. He is such a nice man and is little Bosco's very best buddy, so this will be a treat. I just hope he isn't one for wanting to dine outside.

So phooey on me today. I'm headed back to the Happy Chair with some ice and a big fat novel. I'm about 3/4 of the way through Pillars of the Earth, so I suppose that today would be a good day to see if they ever get this freakin cathedral built.

If Stewey and Flat Grandma ever return, I'll be sure to update you with tales of their travels. If you don't hear from me, please be on the lookout for a nine pound Jack Russell terrier wearing a silk smoking jacket and a tiny little doll wearing a granny cap at a bar near you. Knowing Stewey, they are probably knee deep in tapas and an impertinent little chardonnay by now, so this should be interesting.

OH FOR THE LOVE OF......

Tomorrow is the three year anniversary of this here blog. You would think that after three years I would have figured out how to use this silly machine, but alas, I remain....an eegit.

Let me very firstlymost apologize for that stupid type font on the bright orange background. The only good news is that I, too, got a screaming headache as I squinted my way through trying to read all of my drivel, so you weren't alone in your pain. I think I might have fixed it with this new font, but I am always open to feedback.

Madame Flat Grandma has decided that running errands with Aunt Chrissy and I is not exactly what she had hoped her vacation to be, so we are re-shuffling the decks around here trying to find suitable things to do. We will be visiting local attractions in the coming days, but it might take awhile to get my proverbial head out of my proverbial heiney, so to speak. So there won't be any fascinating updates tomorrow in the event that you were setting your alarm clocks or anything. Instead, FG has taken herself up to the studio with a cold beverage, and asked not to be disturbed until Wednesday (or thereabouts). Please stay tuned.

Stewey send his love and affection. We had a rather amusing incident moments ago as the Boston fern decided to pee about seven gallons of water all over the hardwood. I stood there with the empty watering can, gawping in amazement as the torrent of water poured down, and I swear I heard Stewey giggling behind his little paw. As I stomped off to the garage for the mop and bucket I also caught him congratulating Louie (that's the name of the fern, don't you know) for doing the one thing that REALLY torks my pajamas on a Sunday morning. Damn dog.

Here's hoping that YOUR Sunday is off to a better start than ours and that you're doing whatever it is that you most want to do!

LET'S HOPE SHE DOESN'T COMPLETELY SCREW THIS UP *****EDITED*****

My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's too busy running around the house hollering "Snacks! I forgot to get suitable snacks for the cocktail hour!".

At precisely 3:47pm yesterday afternoon our house guest arrived. Ms. Muriel Arlene Myrtle Ethel Adeline "Flat Flossie" St. Clair, Her Very Self was unceremoniously dumped on the front porch by the postman. (I can only assume that he was surly because of the heat and humidity, because he is otherwise a very nice fellow.)

Mo-ther brought her into the house, introduced us all around, and then showed her to the guest room for a little rest and refreshment:I was told to "Leave her alone, and don't even think about doing you-know-what on her fancy traveling dress", so I gave her a few good sniffs and then headed to my perch.

Both Mo-ther and Aunt Chrissy are determined to show Ms. St. Clair a good time this weekend, but I'm concerned that, when left to their own devices, the hostesses will not be able to come up with anything suitable for our visitor. I've been clipping articles for weeks about some of the local events that will happen here in Hoosierville, but methinks that the Target is about as far as we can expect these girls to travel.

Updates on Monday, we promise. In the meantime, Mo-ther has asked me to send her most very heartfelt THANK YOU for all of your lovely comments regarding her recent Happy Dance. It really is very pretty in real life, so I'm hoping she gets this one framed and up on the wall soon!

Have a splendid weekend, and if you have house guests, please don't forget the snacks for the cocktail hour!

With love from your pal,
Stewey


****For more information about the genesis of Flat Grandma and how she came to be visiting my guest room, go to http://www.stitchbitch.blogspot.com/ and read through the posts tagged "Flat Grandma". Or, if you're like me and haven't one damn clue how to do that, look at the posts dated April 22 and April 26.

SPRING QUAKER FEE NEE

Spring Quakers

Rosewood Manor

28ct. Valor by Picture This Plus

Valdani 3-strand floss

ONLY FOUR MORE TO GO!!

Forgive me, please. I am in the home stretch of Spring Quakers and have only four more flower names to go. I'd like to finish this today, and despite my very best attempts, I have not yet figured out how to stitch and read this here silly machine at the same time.

Until tomorrow, moan amees!