Sep 29, 2011


Here in Hoosierville, we have a sportscaster named Angelo Decarlo. He's adorable, he really really is, but he has a very distinct speech habit that drives me up a tree. His broadcasts start out well enough...reporting on the day's sporting news, etc. etc., but after about a minute, his voice starts to elevate and he goes into full on Howard Co sell mode with the HE...CAN...GO...ALL...THE....WAY!!!!! And the rest of whatever he's saying is very very loud indeed.

(Aunt Chrissy and I also think it hilarious that when he broadcasts from Notre Dame stadium after a game and he's the only person in the place...he still hollers. Invariably, every single time Angelo comes on the TeeVee, I'll call Aunt Chrissy and say "Why is he screaming at me?" and we'll have a giggle.)

After I tucked Stewey in for his afternoon nap, I crept up to the studio so that I could catch a glimpse of the trial spectacle. (California v. Conrad Murray).

You guessed it.

Screaming. Every single freakin' commentator felt it necessary to scream at me for a full eight seconds before I came to my senses and turned the damn thing off. (Note to Jane Valez Mitchell....PLEASE, for the love of God! switch to decaf! And while you're at it, switch your BFF Nancy Grace to decaf too! And Vinnie Pollitan! All of you! DECAF, people! DECAF!

I'm happy to report that the threads that I ordered arrived in the mailbox yesterday! (I have no idea how Miss Linda from House of Stitches did it, since I'm pretty sure that I ordered them and then four and a half minutes they were delivered, but what do I know about the way things work anyhow)?

So here's the update:

I'll leave you with a snap of Stewey's toy basket. I turned it over so that he could play freely with everything in it, and I have to confess that I've really enjoyed watching his little heiney wiggle as he pounces into the middle of all of those toys and then tosses them all over the living room. (You'd think he was actually a real dog.)

Sep 28, 2011


I'm not a studio executive (I just play one on TeeVee), but don't you think they've got it all bass-akwards with the whole Real Housewives thing?

Each episode features women who are at once so pretty and thin and well-accessorized, that you can only IMAGINE what it would be like to be them. A closet the approximate size of an airplane hanger? De rigeur. Personal chefs in the kitchen? Just an ordinary Wednesday. Dogs wearing little outfits and sipping champagne out of seven hundred dollar glasses?

Oh wait. That's me.

Anyway, my point is this: I don't need anything else to convince me that I should occupy space on a remote and distant planet. Let's face it kids, you cannot be a 45-year old spinster with an unfortunate mustache problem and your own zip code and still feel good about yourself after watching a size triple zero prance around in a bikini while bitching that her thighs are fat. (I've eaten baked potatoes that were larger than said size triple zero, so instead of feeling bad that the poor thing has low self esteem issues, I just want to slap the skinny right off of her and feed her a nice big bowl of effew.)

I am proposing that the Bravo folks get with it and feature some poor slob like me who can't find her way out of a wet paper bag with two hands and a flashlight, and who knows the importance of always having a nice meatloaf on hand in the event that Jeffrey Dean Morgan drops by for lunch. The cameras could capture my every move, and audiences would sit with rapt attention while I tackle that unfortunate mustache problem (see above), wipe up dog pee and champagne (also, above), and contemplate whether or not the pile of laundry could adequately be described as a bio hazard.

Can you say...Emmy?

I know there are shows that reveal poor housekeeping, or addiction issues, or even (horror of horrors) weight-loss situations, but wouldn't it be more fun to watch an ordinary every day person bumblecluck her way through a day filled with nothing but dusting and grocery shopping?

Stewey tells me that I've got it all wrong and that people watch these programs to see how the other half lives, but I still think that an hour of beautifully appointed females wearing two thousand dollar stilettos is hard on the 'ole self-acceptance meter. Wouldn't it be more satisfying to see me woop woop it up in the Target aisle over a pair of eighteen dollar slippers?

(They're fabulous, by the way, and I don't intend to take them off until Spring.)

I'll keep you posted on my progress with the pitch meeting, but please feel free to drop a line or two on Andy Cohen's Facebook page. (Does Andy Cohen even HAVE a Facebook page? If I become famous, will I have to have a Facebook page? More importantly, if Stewey becomes famous, will I have to be the one to update HIS Facebook page?)

These are important questions for the ages. Obviously.

I was making pretty good headway on the Prairie Moon piece when two things happened (almost simultaneously, by the way). Number one is that I ran out of thread. (I know, I know, I should have listened to Aunt Chrissy when she told me that there was no way that four skeins would be enough). And number two, the lights went out.

(By the way...just a word of advice to the gal that answered the phone over at Mishawaka Utilities: Remain calm and carry on, dear. There's no reason to holler "There's trees down and lines are on fire!" while pulling on your rubber boots and crash helmet. We'll be fine. Really. We will be. Just turn the lights back on when you get a moment and try not to panic.)

So that explains the measly progress. (If you stay tuned long enough, the dog will eat my homework, the sun will be in my eyes, and the check will be in the mail.) (I promise.)

I'm off to the laundry room! I thought that I was going to settle in to watch the Conrad Murray trial this week, but Stewey confiscated the remote control, glared at me, and said "Casey Anthony" and that was all she wrote. Apparently, I am incapable of remaining detached from celebrity trials.

Have a Happy Wednesday! I'll post the recipe for the root beer boondt tomorrow! (I have to figure out what I did with it.)

Sep 26, 2011


So here we are on a Monday and all is well. The sun is shining, the gardens have all been cleaned and tidied, and the mailbox has been replaced.

Yup. Replaced. Somebody decided to smash into the damn thing and then just keep on tooling down the street, so a lovely man named Andre was here before I knew it to put me back on the map once again. (God bless that homeowner's association!)

Between the clean and tidy gardens and the new mailbox, my neighbors are left scratching their heads wondering when I decided to get my proverbial act together, I'm sure. It's not that I'm the neighborhood nutball, per se, but I've never been able to keep up with the Joneses with respects to flowers and ponds and lush greenery and whatnot. Add that to a twitchy little dog and a propensity for organizing my recycling, and you've got one very weird little spinster here in The Forest.

Here's a little progress on the Prairie Moon piece. (And yes, in case you were wondering, I did switch out the R.I.P. for a Boo! Don't ask me to explain it, but I've got some crazypants aversion to stitching the letters R.I.P. on stuff.)

(No, I don't know why I am the way I am, so just go with it and chalk it up to an eccentric little quirk.)
(And yes, to answer your second question. This is the only thing I've been working on.) Phooey.

Aunt Chrissy and I went to the Michael's to pick up this beauty:
The wrinkles don't really show up in real life, I promise. I think it has something to do with the glass? I don't normally use glass on my stuff, but the lovely framing expert at the Michael's really insisted that I use it this time since this was on fabric and not heavier linen or canvas. I'm very happy with this and have temporarily hung it in my office, since the blue is throwing me a little bit. I don't have one spec of blue anywhere in my house, so my whole "matchy-matchy" thing has been thrown into overdrive.

Stewey is well and sends his love. He wanted me to share with you a little gift that he received from his Aunt Chrissy. He's been suffering through some issues lately, and she thought this would be the perfect little pick me up. Her name is Penelope the Piggie, and her story reads thusly:

"With her head-strong determination and good fortune, Penelope is the perfect depiction of overcoming impossible odds! Her personal waGer against anyone using the phrase "When pigs fly!" has brought much abundance and prosperity indeed!"
She sits on my stitchy table during the day, but he insists that we carry her into the bedroom and put her on the nightstand each evening so that he can keep a peep on her throughout the night. Damn dog.

So that's the report for a Monday, my dear and fabulous stitchy friends! I hope that you had a splendid weekend and that your week is off to a flying start!

Oh! and P.S.! I am very happy to report that the grilled pierogi with kielbasa and onions, the chicken stew, AND the rootbeer bundt cake all turned out very very well indeed! (A note of caution, though...although delicious, the grilled pierogi are actually little lead pillows that will make you pray for death if you eat more than ten of them.)

Sep 22, 2011


You know me...I never want to tell you what to do (tee hee!), but when you have a moment and a lovely hot cup 'o joe (or tea), take thee to Miss Margaret's blog to see a) the adventures of Madame Muriel Flat Flossie Grandma, and (more importantly), b) her completed masterpiece.

(Um, Margaret's masterpiece that is, not Muriel's). 

Here's the link:

It will take your breath away.  I promise.

Stewey and I are hurtling head-long into the weekend.  I'm happy to report that the tiny little itty bones seem to be just what the doctor ordered, and we've gone several days now without one episode of projectile upchucking. (I wish I could say the same for the projectile drape peeing, though).  He will go for his annual physical tomorrow, and I'm sure that Dr. Nieman will say "Oh, Stewey.  You're fine exactly as you are.  Now if we could just get that Mommie of yours sorted out..."  Then I'll hang my head in shame and pay the ga-jillion dollar bill and that will be the end of that.

I've just pulled a few recipes that I'm going to play with over the next few days, and if I don't burn the house down in the process, Aunt Chrissy and Bosco might come over for a bite or two.  (If I do burn the house down in the process, then that would be a shame and I'd probably have to get used to sleeping on Aunt Chrissy's couch.)

(Or in Bosco's apartment.)

What am I going to make, you ask?  Well, on Saturday I'm going to make "Grilled Kielbasa and Pierogi" followed by a lovely root beer boondt cake (with root beer drizzle, don't you know), and on Sunday I'm going to make a vat of chicken stew.

Chicken stew is what I make when I feel myself on the cusp of the blahs (or blues for that matter).  I'm not sure if it's the paprika or the warm and comforting nature of it, but after a few bowls of it (OK, after ten bowls of it), all is right with the world once again.  Methinks it will be just what the doctor ordered.

So that's all we have for you from Chez Spinster today, my very dearest stitchy friends.  I do hope that your corner of the world is a lot more exciting and that whatever you're working is exactly what you want it to be!  Woo Hoo!

Sep 21, 2011


Thine Is The Trick And The Treat
Prairie Moon
32ct. "Camofudge" by Stitches and Spice
Crescent Colors: Blackbird

Sep 19, 2011


My mom can't come to the blog right now.  She is too busy prancing about the house with a leaf wreath on her head, chanting something about "Fall, Fall, it's here!  Let' the Festival of the Fall Futzing begin! Woo Hoo!".

We awoke to a cool and somewhat rainy morning today, which means that the old lady and my Aunt Chrissy will soon have the official disposing of the leg razors and the stubble will begin to grow.  I'm not sure where it's written exactly, but these two somehow think it acceptable to forego the shaving of the legs as soon as the peddle pushers hit the back rack of the closet.  I, for one, am appalled.

We will also have the ceremonial application of the flannel sheets, the concocting of something warm and hearty in the crock pot, and the burning of whatever latest Yankee Candle is on sale that doesn't smell like over ripe summer fruit.

(All in all it's not a bad festival, but I could do without the leaf wreath and the prancing.)

I hope that you had a perfectly swell weekend.  We were doing just fine right up until early yesterday morning, when I decided to upchuck all over the bed and a rather horrified mo-ther.  She was a real trooper, though, and had those sheets and whatnot in the washing machine before you could say Pepto.  The good news is that she has FINALLY come to her senses and realized that I am, after all, a nine pound dog and you simply cannot put eleven pounds of anything into me without some rather unfortunate results.  My Aunt Chrissy took pity on me and loaded the old lady up with a Ziplock full of tiny itty bitty little bones, which are, afterall, what I should be treated with in the first place.  Damn Mommie.

Enjoy your Monday, my dear and faithful friends!  I remain your true and devoted servant,



A note from Mommie (as in Dearest, don't you know): Before y'all write to me and say "Oh, Spinster Stitcher, you really shouldn't be feeding Stewey so many cookies and treats", may I just point out that I do so in order to get a little peace and quiet around here, and that the Cookie Dance/Stomping of the Feet and Showing of the Bunny Teeth Until I Get My Damn Cookies gets a little old after awhile.  Besides, sixteen years of Catholic school has had a rather unfortunate effect on my ability to handle guilt, and there's no way I'm going to look that little creature in his eyes and then not give in to his every whim. So, before you fret, please know that the tiny itty bitty little bones are indeed appropriate and seem to be working, so as soon as I can find a bra I will be heading over to the PetSmart to stock up.

Sep 16, 2011


STEWEY: Mo-ther, we need to talk about your blog post today.

MO-THER: What about it? (She peers over her stitchy glasses and tries to surreptitiously glance at Jeffrey Dean Morgan on the TeeVee screen).

STEWEY: (Immediately catching on, reaching for the remote, and clicking the off button while Mo-ther sputters in angry disbelief.)  I am very disappointed that you would post a picture of me that implies that I do not know how to wipe my nose.  As everybody knows, a gentleman always carries a proper handkerchief, and had you pointed out the fact that I had a remnant of my evening snack on my face, I would have happily taken care of it. In private, thank you very much.

MO-THER: For cripes' sake, Stewey.  Every time I try to get within two feet of you, you skitter away and act like I'm going to attempt a briss.  As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to start calling you Skittles.  Yeah.  That's it.  Skittles.  And because you're so little, I'm going to call you Little Skittles.
(She chortles madly as she dials the phone.)

MO-THER: Hey, Aunt Chrissy!  Guess what!  I'm going to start calling Little Lord Fauntleroy here Little Skittles!  Isn't that the funniest thing you've ever heard?  Aren't I a comedic genius?!

AUNT CHRISSY:  Put Stewey on the phone.

MO-THER: You guys aren't going to make me take those pills again are you?

AUNT CHRISSY: (tapping her fingernail impatiently) Stewey.  Phone.  Now.

STEWEY:  Hello, Aunt Chrissy?  This is Stewey.

AUNT CHRISSY: Hi, Stewey.  I'll be in the driveway in ten minutes.

STEWEY: OK, Aunt Chrissy.  I'll be ready.  May I bring my overnight valise with me?

AUNT CHRISSY: Whatever blows your smoking jacket up, kid.


Apparently, I'm the only one around here who thinks I'm hilarious.  The dog is not speaking to me, and based upon my attempts to contact her today, it would also appear that Aunt Chrissy has changed her phone number.  If I drive over to her neighborhood today and see a For Sale sign in her front yard, I'm going to be very sad indeed.

Still plugging along on the Prairie Moon, but not enough progress to warrant a fist fight with the camera.  I really am going to try to work on it over the weekend, but if something new should happen to jump into my hands, I wouldn't be too terribly upset about it.

Here's hoping that your weekend is swell!  Do something I wouldn't do!

Sep 15, 2011


A very small stitchy status update:

And a picture of You Know Who
The purple thing is his "spaceship".  At the moment he is flinging it at me while stridently demanding that I fill it up with tasty treats. (And in case you were wondering and more than a little grossed out, the thing on his nose is actually from last night's CheewEez. He insists on noodging the damn thing around until it gets stuck to his nose, and, because he is who he is, there's no going near him for residue removal purposes.) Damn dog.

P.S.  His little silk smoking jacket is at the cleaners.


Oh dear and faithful readers!  You've asked what blogs I read, and I couldn't be more flattered that you would think me capable of sharing a list with you!  Truth of the matter is that this bleepity bleep bleep computer is giving me so many fits and starts lately that I haven't one clue as to how I would properly put this list into the right format.  Will you forgive it in a post?

I do, however, have one very big fat caveat.  This list isn't complete, but I can't figure out where the missing links are.  So if you have a blog and it is not listed, will you please send me your blog address so that I can add you to this list?  If I have left anybody out, please know that it is definitely an innocent oversight and I am very very sorry for it.


Peacock's Feather
Sampler of Stitches
Honeysuckle tree
Clydeside Stitching
Day gone by...
Cozy Egg
A Kiwi Stitching
Stitching Obssns
Enchanted Burrow
The Musing Badger
Stitching Squad
Linen Stitcher
Blissful Creations
Another XCrazy Blog
Cross Stitch Crazy
One More Stitch..
Just String
Plays With Needles
Create Needlepoint!
Stitchlady’s Weblog
Chilly Hollow



Crazy Aunt Purl

Sep 14, 2011


My mom can't come to the blog right now.  She's in the office hollering at the computer and anybody else who'll listen to "But I DID that!  I FOLLOWED the directions!  WHY WHY WHY?!!!!"

You would think this whole "It's time to upgrade your computer software for the first time since 1982, dear spinster" was a call to arms or something.  My goodness, but we're having a tizzy today.

I thought I would take a few moments to check in with you, my very dear and faithful friends, to bring you up to speed on all of the comings and goings from here in Spinster CrazyTowne.

(sound of crickets chirping)

Yes, you guessed it.  Not one single exciting thing to report.  Life continues on in its same old fashion with my silly mo-ther flitting about like a nervous Christmas ham and my Aunt Chrissy reaching for the antacids.  (I don't think the poor dear has had a single quiet evening in about six years.  If it's not my pesky cousin barking his fool head off at nothing in particular, it's the telephone ringing with my fraught mo-ther on the other end wanting to babble incoherently until it's time for bed.

I think I've finally figured it out, though, so we're going to try to remedy the situation. 

My mother needs a hobby.

And by hobby, I mean one that will provide her with hours and hours of distraction and one that will most assuredly NOT involve firearms, celebrity stalking, and/or the necessity of a local needlework shop.

I'd suggest that she also invest in a pet, but we all know how that goes when the owner/person is about as bright as a 40 watt bulb.  (God knows I could have thrived with a smarter owner.)

So as much as I would love to post gorgeous pictures of all of the stitching that's going on around here, we've got nothing.  There's been a lot of TeeVee viewing and grilled chicken eating and blog stalking, but the actual stitching has crawled to a snail's pace.

Never fear, my trusty associates.  All will be well again, and as soon as the new meds kick in, I'm pretty sure that we're going to see a bit more normal around here.

How's your normal?

With all of the love that one can muster in a household such as this,
Your loving pal,

Sep 13, 2011


Once upon a time, a spinster and her father were talking about life.  "There's a book that I want you to read, CJ", the father said. "It's called Who Moved My Cheese and it's all about change and how we adapt to it.  I think you could learn a lot from it."

"What's THAT supposed to mean, Dad!", the spinster cried in her usual hyper-sensitive voice. "Are you saying that I'm incapable of changing and that I'm going to die lonely and alone, frantically trying to put stuff back where I think it belongs?"

(Sighing heavily) "Pass the peas, honey.  Forget I said anything".

Somebody has moved my cheese all over the damn place and I don't like it one tiny little itty bit.  It all started with this here computer and all of the crazypants crap that seemed to change with it overnight.  New programs, new formats, new interfaces!  Why didn't anybody send me a memo on this?!  How in the world am I supposed to cope with the fact that I finally learned how to turn the darn thing on and now there's a whole new set of crap happening that I can't figure out!

(She breathes heavily into a paper bag).

Since this is, after all, supposed to be a stitching blog, I guess I have to confess that there has been precious little stitching going on.  There's been a lot of futzing and organizing and putting of things into baskets, but actual stitching?  Not so much.

I thought I had come up with the perfect idea, which was to gather projects for September, October, November, and December, but that seems to have placed me in a tailspin of cataclysmic proportions.  How am I supposed to figure out whether Autumn Arbor is September or October?  What if it really is a November and I'm just too clueless to understand?  Can I stitch Halloween stuff now, or do I need to wait seventeen days until the calendar clicks over?  What about Christmas stitching?  Too soon?

Do you GET why it's not easy being me?  These dilemmas have had me pacing the floors and pulling my hair out for weeks now.  Methinks I need a sedative.

Speaking of which, Aunt Chrissy and Stewey had a huge surprise for me on Saturday past.  They decided to decorate Chez Dog Pee to within an inch of its life with all of the gorgeousness of the season!  Who knew that in addition to all of her other fabulous talents, my little sister is an expert autumnal decorator? (Stewey supervised and gave her efforts two paws up).

But first, here's a shot of the measly progress on Thine Is The Trick And The Treat:

I offer Exhibit A in the "Doesn't my sister have the very best taste in everything?" category.  Here's the frame that she selected for Rusty O'Toole.  Isn't it swell?

And here's the dining room tableau that she came up with (I added the dust and spindly plant that really should be re-potted but that just seems to do whatever it wants to anyways):

And here's the big white wall with a few new things added.  You'll notice that the table is now nicely covered with some autumnal stitching and my Liberty Hill collection and that there are three new pics on the wall.  The first is a Sam Toft print (the one above the shelf), the second is Rusty (above the light switch), and the third is a little sign that reads "Witch and Famous".

Who's happier than me?
So that's the report for a Tuesday.  I hope that wherever you are is exactly where you want to be today. 

A personal note to Anonymous: Oh, my dear sweet friend.  Yes, I do understand, and hope that you will wrap yourself up in love from all of the crazy dog people whose hearts are breaking for you now.  I gave Stewey an extra little head pat for you and he says to be well and that he's so very sorry for your loss.  Please take care.

Sep 8, 2011


Well, well, well.  What have we here?

I see that you all have encouraged my stupid mo-ther to spin into some crazyass world of "A Spinster Stitcher Who Now Thinks She Is A Meeting Planner, An Entrepreneur, And A Philanthropist".  I awoke to discover that instead of her usual attire of eighteen year old sweatpants and a Hanes t-shirt that should have hit the rag bin years ago, she's now sporting pumps and a power suit.

Yes, you read that correctly.  A power suit.

Apparently it's 1987 again.

Aunt Chrissy and I will be convening this afternoon to initiate a battle plan and to warn the pharmacist that we're going to need a bigger boat.  I'm thinking that an i.v. drip of something soothing will buy us enough time to gas up the car, pack her a little bag, and get her to the Greyhound station in time for the one-way trip to (insert appropriate facility name here).

So please stay tuned for further updates, and please forgive her shameless attempt to distract you from the fact that there has not been one damn bit of stitching to report.

I remain your faithful pal and compatriot,

Sep 7, 2011


Forgive me, please.  As you know by now, I am a bear of very little brain, so once it fills up with a bunch of random crap, I need to empty it a little so that there might be room for new stuff to come in. 

(I like to tell people that I operate on the Kelly Bundy Method -- for every new thing that comes in, one old thing has to go out.)

(And as much as I would love to take credit for that, I can't.  I've never seen Married With Children and haven't one clue as to who exactly Kelly Bundy is.  I learned of the Kelly Bundy Method from my Jersey Boy Rich when he became completely exasperated with me and my...see bear of tiny little brain above.)

So here's what's in there today:

STITCH MOBILE:  Aunt Chrissy and I have this crazypants idea. (OK, if you must know, Aunt Chrissy doesn't have this idea at all actually.  I just always think that if I throw her into the mix it lends instant credibility.)  We want to buy an RV/bus (from one of the manufacturers right here in Elkhart, Hoosierville to help the economy, thank you very much), and we want to trick this thing out so that it's a mobile needlework shop.  We were thinking that we could drive it all around the country and go to places that don't have a LNS and that we could say "Hey...(insert place here that doesn't have a LNS)! We're coming your way and will be in a Wal-Mart parking lot near you very soon!"  And so that we wouldn't be competing with shops in that region, we could make sure that we load up the RV/bus with stuff from their very own shop....kind of like "We know you couldn't go to see them, so we thought we'd bring them to see you."

I know what you're thinking.  How the hell are we: a) going to live in said RV/bus; b) when can you expect the first bitchy post from Stewey as to the sub-par accommodations; and c) where will we find a boat big enough to sail it to New Zealand once we've hit all of the hot spots here in the U.S.?

Details are being worked out.  Stay tuned.

(Oh, and P.S...I, for one, think that we should have a thingie on the top of the RV/bus that will project a signal up into the sky.  You know.  Kind of like the bat signal.  But with prettier colors.)

THE RED "CROSS": This idea is actually something that I swear to all that is holy that I am going to do.  The problem is that Aunt Chrissy thinks there might be a HUGE problem with the name.  Here's the gist:  When a disaster strikes someplace in the world, there are organizations that show up to help the victims. (Like the Red Cross).  They help with food and clothing and shelter and whatnot, but I would imagine that nobody is there to help with stitching supplies.  So I was thinking...what if we started a charity that would help a stitcher who has lost everything to re-build his/her stash?  What if you could call this charity up and say "I've lost everything" and within a day or so there would be a lovely package that would have a few nice little things to get you started and then within a month or so you'd get a much larger package that would help you get back on your stitchy feet?  Every single one of us stitches to relax, right?  So why not provide a little bit of comfort to somebody who is stuck in a hotel room or a trailer or a temporary shelter. would be a very small yet personal way to let somebody know that the stitchy world cares.

I like the name the Red "Cross", but instead of writing the word "cross", what if you turned it on its side so that it looked like....The Red in in stitch?

Ah, philanthropy.  Thy name is...well, in this case....problematic.

AN ONLINE TALK SHOW: This one has me the most twisted in knots.  Primarily because it would involve appearing on camera, and we all know how much I just adore having my photograph or likeness made for the world to see. (What can I say? I have issues.  Clearly.  I do.)  I think it would be completely hilarious to have a talk show with Aunt Chrissy and I up in the studio doing what we do.  We could interview guests via Skype and we could demonstrate stuff and review new things and report stitchy news.  Wouldn't that be a complete hoot?

Yes.  I know what you're thinking.  This is a good ideal only until the Stitchy Police come along and shut us right down for being us.  I can imagine the hate mail now...."You two should have your Ginghers taken away"...."Where in God's name did you get the idea that you knew anything about stitching?"...."You're doing it all wrong"....."Would a little make-up have KILLED you?"

Maybe we better think this one through more.

Finally, I have always wanted to host a STITCHING RETREAT, but I'm afraid that nobody would come to it.  Every time I think about how much fun it would be, I start to shudder at the vision of me standing in the Residence Inn by Marriott meeting room with forty-two empty chairs and a vat of diet Coke.  OMG, how embarrassing.  But if a retreat sounds like something y'all would be interested in, let me know just how over the top you would want it to be and I'll call out the dancing men.

(Oh wait.  That's a different kind of retreat.)

So that's what is rattling around in my head today as I gaze up into a gorgeous blue sky and wish I could go sit under a tree and read a book. (Can't, thanks.  Trees have bugs in them that invariably fall on my head and then I'm caught in public furiously swatting my brains out while shouting "I HATE FREAKIN' NATURE!" and I can never go to that park again.  Or college campus.)

What's in your brain today?

***AAAACCCCKKKK!!!!***** I forgot the most important thing that is rattling around...a GINGHER DESIGNER SERIES SCISSORS FAN SITE!  Seriously, people.  Don't you think we need a place where we can go find out about the new styles coming out, etc?  As it is, I rely on all of yous to give me a heads up and then Aunt Chrissy bee-lines it over to the JoAnns with coupons to see if she can score a couple of pairs.  And if we hear of ones being released to LNSs we badger them until they add us to their lists....oey!

Sep 6, 2011


I was all set to post some pictures of stitchy stuff, but the camera threw a hissy and told me that it's not going to do one more thing until I go to the Targets to buy it a new memory card thingie. If I would have been smart enough to read the instruction manual, I'm sure that I could have figured out how to by-pass the memory card thingie, but this is me we're talking about. (Besides, the time it would take for me to read said instruction manual and then finally give up and ask Stewey to figure it out would be significantly greater than the time it will take to put my bra and shoes on and go to the Targets.)

So no crappy pictures today, folks. 

(This should give the haters plenty of opportunity to say "Stop your silly blathering and just post pictures of stitchy stuff already".)

Lovely and quiet weekend at Chez Spinster. I'd love to tell you that a lot was accomplished, but alas, it was not. I did manage to do some laundry and homekeeping and such, but not before I lounged about in my pajamas for the better part of three days feeling poorly. I don't know if it's the sudden change in weather or if I've been the lucky recipient of an early flu, but there is most definitely a hitch in my giddyup.

The Spinster Stitcher Basket O' Fall Stitchy Fun has been assembled, so we'll see what things I can come up with to occupy myself in the next several weeks. I've pulled several cross stitch pieces and two or three counted canvas projects, so there should be a little something for whatever mood strikes me. I'm also thinking about throwing in a crewel project and maybe even a painted canvas or two, so there should be absolutely no excuse for me not to be well entertained.

That's the report for a Tuesday morning. Hope yours is swell and that you get to do whatever it is you want to do today.

Sep 2, 2011


I really don't know what to say about all of the lovely comments that I've received with respects to Stars.

A normal person would accept them graciously, thank you in a courteous and succinct manner, and then make sure to credit the real hero of the story...Tony Minieri.

But this is me we're talking about.

The minute the comment total hit 50, I bolted out of the chair and started hollering for Stewey to bring me the hairbrush. I know what you're thinking...that I wanted the hairbrush so that I might tame the forty pound squirrel of fuzzy brown hair that is atop my head. Right?

Again...this is me, remember?

The hairbrush is actually my Oscar. And my Emmy, and my Grammy, and my Pulitzer, and my Nobel. It is every single trophy that I should have won in the sixth grade, but didn't, because Shelly Mullen was smarter, faster, and stronger, and it's every single prize that didn't adorn my bedroom bulletin board.

(Come to think about it, I didn't even have a bulletin board in my bedroom. Was this because my mom knew somehow that I would fret over its vast expanse of nothingness that rendered an adolescent life meaningless?)

And so this morning I clutched that hairbrush to my big fat self, looked triumphantly into the shiny side of the toaster oven, and said...

Well, I suppose that this comes as no surprise whatsoever that I am totally stunned by this recognition. I'd like to thank those of you who commented, and all of the people in my life who've made this moment possible. Most importantly, however, I'd like to accept this applause on behalf of the talented designer, Mr. Tony Minieri, who created a true masterpiece and gave me the freedom to make it my own. Now if you'll forgive me, I've made just a few notes...(reaching into the pocket of my nine year old summer robe that should have been put in the Goodwill box eight years ago)...It all began on a lovely Spring day in Lima, Ohio. They say that the flowers had started blooming in anticipation of my arrival...


What I'd really like to say is a very heartfelt and a very sincere thank you for putting up with me and my shenanigans and for taking the time to say such lovely, lovely things.  Please know that your encouragement will help me channel my stitchy powers for good.  I promise.

If you're in this neck of the woods, I hope that you have an excellent three day weekend.  If you're not in this neck of the woods, well then, I hope you have an excellent weekend too.

(Now in the event that you were thinking I was going to close with a rollicking GO IRISH!, I'm afraid that I will have to refrain.  The opposing team this Saturday is coached by a fabulous and handsome man by the name of Skip Holtz, and I think he's swell.  When I was a freshman at ND, he was very kind to me and never once made me feel like the dopey fat kid from Lima, Ohio that couldn't tell that his cowboy boots were made of ostrich and not, in fact, alligator.)