Apr 29, 2013
Apr 27, 2013
WOOOO HOOOOOO!
It's 2:00 on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon. Thanks to Aunt Chrissy, the back patio is scrubbed freh and furnitureized with table and chairs, the house is (relatively) clean, and Stewey is snoozing in the patch of sunlight hitting his little perch.
After a hot scrubby shower for yours truly, I am thiiiiiiiis close to finishing my Melissa Shirley canvas. Methinks there might be a whole lot of wobbly bit wobbling going on later this afternoon!
Can I get a WOO HOO from the congregation?
How's things in your neck of the woods?
After a hot scrubby shower for yours truly, I am thiiiiiiiis close to finishing my Melissa Shirley canvas. Methinks there might be a whole lot of wobbly bit wobbling going on later this afternoon!
Can I get a WOO HOO from the congregation?
How's things in your neck of the woods?
Apr 24, 2013
WHAAAAAAAAH?
A few moments ago I glanced outside to see if the sun had finally decided to poke its pretty little head out, and I saw snowflankes.
Snowflakes.
On the 24rd day of April.
Oey.
Stewey has passed out in front of the fireplace (which, oddly enough, isn't on) so I am going to hit the Happy Chair for a little stitchy time before bed.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know it's only 5:30, but sometimes a spinster just needs to think about going to bed.
Tragic, isn't it, that thinking about going to bed is the highlight of my day?
Snowflakes.
On the 24rd day of April.
Oey.
Stewey has passed out in front of the fireplace (which, oddly enough, isn't on) so I am going to hit the Happy Chair for a little stitchy time before bed.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know it's only 5:30, but sometimes a spinster just needs to think about going to bed.
Tragic, isn't it, that thinking about going to bed is the highlight of my day?
Apr 21, 2013
NOW THAT'S MORE LIKE IT
Here's the latest progress on the Melissa Shirley canvas. The fourth flower and a few leaves were finished during yet another screening of Ghostbusters last night. Is there a better movie for some late night "I just want to sit here and giggle" sessions?
Apr 20, 2013
HEART ATTACKS AND LADYBUGS AND NAVEL GAZING.....OH MY
A sense of perspective isn't something I have in droves, so in light of all of the actual real life important stuff that's happening in the world right now, I hope that you'll forgive an idiot spinster for spending a few moments rambling about her own silly little drama of a life.
On Wednesday, I was driving down the street talking to my Jersey boy on the hands-free telephone contraption, when I noticed a gentleman approaching the intersecting corner. As I glanced over at him, I saw him clutch his chest, double over, and then fall to the ground. "I think that man is having a heart attack", I said to my Jersey boy. "I'll call you back". So I turned my little red tin can around, pulled over, grabbed my telephone contraption and called 9-1-1. The gentleman on the ground was alert and conscious and breathing, and told me he thought he was having a heart attack. I didn't have to perform CPR, so I guess it was my job to make polite conversation with both the 9-1-1 dispatcher and the gentleman having the heart attack, because all I could seem to do was chatter like a circus monkey, give the gentleman having a heart attack a continual thumbs up/you're doing a good job staying alive, Brother gesture, and promising the 9-1-1 dispatcher that I would, under no circumstances jump on this gentleman's chest and holler "Bring me the paddles! Charge to 500! Stat!"
Two South Bend police cruisers were there within a matter of seconds, followed by what I presume to be a South Bend Fire Department ambulance, since all of the people in said ambulance had stuff written all over themselves that said "South Bend Fire". I managed to shut the hell up long enough for everybody to do their job, put Bob on a stretcher, and send him off to the hospital, where I am hoping and praying he enjoyed a full and speedy recovery.
(And yes, in case you were wondering, I was perfectly calm, composed, and semi-professional right up until the point that the South Bend police officer asked the gentleman having a heart attach what his name was, and when he replied "Bob", I burst into the ugly cry and said "That was my dad's name! And he had TWO heart attacks! He's dead now, but I loved him very much and my sister and I miss he and my mother every single day of our rotten little lives because nobody should have to go through life without their parents, especially when they are ill equipped to handle all that comes at them in the course of a normal, yet hectic week here on the planet Earth!")
(Or something like that, anyway. All I know is that the officer patted my on the shoulder and made sure I was sufficiently OK to drive and get the hell out of the chaos and on to my destination without revealing too much more of my inner messed-up mechanisms.)
Fast forward to yesterday, when I was at the downtown post office. A young mother and her little daughter came in after what I can only assume was a very very long day of doing a whole lot of crap that the little daughter had absolutely no interest in doing whatsoever. She managed to stand in line for a full seven seconds before she went into full on melt-down mode, and it was all any of us could do to protect our eardrums. This kid was m-i-s-e-r-a-b-l-e and she wasn't going to stop until everybody within an eight mile radius knew this, so I decided to be "helpful" and engage the child in what I thought was appropriate conversation with someone in the midst of a nervous breakdown. "I'm Butterfly McTootie Ladybug pants", I said while bending over to eye height with the kid. "What's your name?"
This might have worked at the Target a few years ago with a little boy named Ethan, but THIS particular child was having absolutely none of it. I could swear I heard her tell me to go "f" myself, but that might have been the poor exasperated mother, who was, by this point, looking up in-patient mental health facilities on her iPhone. I'm pretty sure that she would have slapped a stamp on her daughter's forehead and mailed her off to Montana if it would have meant that she could have gotten out of there with a shred of sanity and/or dignity in tact.
But I was not to be deterred by this.
"I'm Princess Tulip Buttercup Pansypants", I tried again. "What's your name?"
This time the kid stopped hollering long enough to turn to her mother and say (loud enough for every single freaking person in the whole entire post office to hear her) "MOMMY! WHY IS THE STUPID FAT LADY TALKING TO MEEEE???!!!!! I DON'T LIKE THE STUPID FAT LADY!!! I WANNA GO HOOOOOOMMMMMEEEEEE!!!!!"
It was at this point that I heard the mother say "Oh, screw it", and she grabbed the kid and hauled her (still screaming, by the way) back out to the minivan.
I could have been humiliated, sure. And, if I would have had an ounce of self respect, I would have quietly made my own exit so as not to have to endure the quizzical looks of all of the other post office patrons, but I decided to stand there instead, shrugging my shoulders while offering a rather weak (yet effective), "What can I say? I've put a little water weight on this week."
All in all it was one of those weeks in which I wonder why I tried leaving the friendly confines of my Happy Chair. To remedy that, I've decided to turn OFF the damn TeeVee, turn ON the You've Got Mail, and get my fingers busy with some stitching.
So how's things in YOUR neck of the woods?
On Wednesday, I was driving down the street talking to my Jersey boy on the hands-free telephone contraption, when I noticed a gentleman approaching the intersecting corner. As I glanced over at him, I saw him clutch his chest, double over, and then fall to the ground. "I think that man is having a heart attack", I said to my Jersey boy. "I'll call you back". So I turned my little red tin can around, pulled over, grabbed my telephone contraption and called 9-1-1. The gentleman on the ground was alert and conscious and breathing, and told me he thought he was having a heart attack. I didn't have to perform CPR, so I guess it was my job to make polite conversation with both the 9-1-1 dispatcher and the gentleman having the heart attack, because all I could seem to do was chatter like a circus monkey, give the gentleman having a heart attack a continual thumbs up/you're doing a good job staying alive, Brother gesture, and promising the 9-1-1 dispatcher that I would, under no circumstances jump on this gentleman's chest and holler "Bring me the paddles! Charge to 500! Stat!"
Two South Bend police cruisers were there within a matter of seconds, followed by what I presume to be a South Bend Fire Department ambulance, since all of the people in said ambulance had stuff written all over themselves that said "South Bend Fire". I managed to shut the hell up long enough for everybody to do their job, put Bob on a stretcher, and send him off to the hospital, where I am hoping and praying he enjoyed a full and speedy recovery.
(And yes, in case you were wondering, I was perfectly calm, composed, and semi-professional right up until the point that the South Bend police officer asked the gentleman having a heart attach what his name was, and when he replied "Bob", I burst into the ugly cry and said "That was my dad's name! And he had TWO heart attacks! He's dead now, but I loved him very much and my sister and I miss he and my mother every single day of our rotten little lives because nobody should have to go through life without their parents, especially when they are ill equipped to handle all that comes at them in the course of a normal, yet hectic week here on the planet Earth!")
(Or something like that, anyway. All I know is that the officer patted my on the shoulder and made sure I was sufficiently OK to drive and get the hell out of the chaos and on to my destination without revealing too much more of my inner messed-up mechanisms.)
Fast forward to yesterday, when I was at the downtown post office. A young mother and her little daughter came in after what I can only assume was a very very long day of doing a whole lot of crap that the little daughter had absolutely no interest in doing whatsoever. She managed to stand in line for a full seven seconds before she went into full on melt-down mode, and it was all any of us could do to protect our eardrums. This kid was m-i-s-e-r-a-b-l-e and she wasn't going to stop until everybody within an eight mile radius knew this, so I decided to be "helpful" and engage the child in what I thought was appropriate conversation with someone in the midst of a nervous breakdown. "I'm Butterfly McTootie Ladybug pants", I said while bending over to eye height with the kid. "What's your name?"
This might have worked at the Target a few years ago with a little boy named Ethan, but THIS particular child was having absolutely none of it. I could swear I heard her tell me to go "f" myself, but that might have been the poor exasperated mother, who was, by this point, looking up in-patient mental health facilities on her iPhone. I'm pretty sure that she would have slapped a stamp on her daughter's forehead and mailed her off to Montana if it would have meant that she could have gotten out of there with a shred of sanity and/or dignity in tact.
But I was not to be deterred by this.
"I'm Princess Tulip Buttercup Pansypants", I tried again. "What's your name?"
This time the kid stopped hollering long enough to turn to her mother and say (loud enough for every single freaking person in the whole entire post office to hear her) "MOMMY! WHY IS THE STUPID FAT LADY TALKING TO MEEEE???!!!!! I DON'T LIKE THE STUPID FAT LADY!!! I WANNA GO HOOOOOOMMMMMEEEEEE!!!!!"
It was at this point that I heard the mother say "Oh, screw it", and she grabbed the kid and hauled her (still screaming, by the way) back out to the minivan.
I could have been humiliated, sure. And, if I would have had an ounce of self respect, I would have quietly made my own exit so as not to have to endure the quizzical looks of all of the other post office patrons, but I decided to stand there instead, shrugging my shoulders while offering a rather weak (yet effective), "What can I say? I've put a little water weight on this week."
All in all it was one of those weeks in which I wonder why I tried leaving the friendly confines of my Happy Chair. To remedy that, I've decided to turn OFF the damn TeeVee, turn ON the You've Got Mail, and get my fingers busy with some stitching.
So how's things in YOUR neck of the woods?
Apr 17, 2013
MY SISTER'S PRAYER
"You know what, Coni Jo? When something like this happens, I don't pray that it never happens to me. I pray that if it does, God will give me the strength to get the bad guy, run in to help, or give comfort to somebody who needs it."
...said by Aunt Chrissy
After Tucson.
And after Aurora.
And after Newtown.
And after Boston.
...said by Aunt Chrissy
After Tucson.
And after Aurora.
And after Newtown.
And after Boston.
Apr 15, 2013
FAW-TY SEVEN
Aunt Chrissy would like for me to send y'all a big (and very very heartfelt) THANK YOU for all of your lovely birthday wishes. She was, unfortunately, quite ill most of the day, so a bowl of mashed potatoes had to stand in for fancypants birthday cake this year.
My own b-day came and went without incident yesterday. Stewey awoke at dawn with the idea that we would go for a picnic, but alas, Mommie Dearest here was more determined to plant her heiney in the Happy Chair for a little movie watching and stitching instead.
I've almost completed the background of the Funky Flowers canvas, but since there really isn't too much more progress than that to show, I'll hold you in suspense for a few days more.
We're off like a herd of turtles into the week! I believe that the report calls for nine days of cold rain, followed by a week of "partly sunny" skies, so I see a few more Happy Chair days in my future!
Woo Hoo!
My own b-day came and went without incident yesterday. Stewey awoke at dawn with the idea that we would go for a picnic, but alas, Mommie Dearest here was more determined to plant her heiney in the Happy Chair for a little movie watching and stitching instead.
I've almost completed the background of the Funky Flowers canvas, but since there really isn't too much more progress than that to show, I'll hold you in suspense for a few days more.
We're off like a herd of turtles into the week! I believe that the report calls for nine days of cold rain, followed by a week of "partly sunny" skies, so I see a few more Happy Chair days in my future!
Woo Hoo!
Apr 12, 2013
FAW-TY TWOO
Today my little sister turns 42. How is that even possible? I wish that I could tell you that we were off on some grand adventure, or that the naked dancing men would be here soon, but the truth of the matter is that it's cold and gloomy and Aunt Chrissy isn't feeling well at all today, so we will probably just take naps and call it a day. Phooey.
Here's Laura J. Perin's Bargello Egg with yellow flowers:
I just can't decided whether or not to do Laura's suggested background, or to go nutso with a fancypants mat and framing. For now, though, I think we're going to put this in the FUPPY pile and move on to a little cross stitch.
What's new with you?
Here's Laura J. Perin's Bargello Egg with yellow flowers:
I just can't decided whether or not to do Laura's suggested background, or to go nutso with a fancypants mat and framing. For now, though, I think we're going to put this in the FUPPY pile and move on to a little cross stitch.
What's new with you?
Apr 10, 2013
WHAT COLORS ARE THE FLOWERS IN YOUR WORLD?
Brown.
I stitched brown flowers.
Who DOES that?
So after a hot bath and and a little dietCoke for sustenance, I'm headed back to said Happy Chair armed with the proper YELLOW thread.
Uh........duh.
Apr 6, 2013
CALLING ALL CARS, PART DEAUX
I awoke to the birds chirping and a to do list stapled to my forehead. If it weren't for the fact that it was written in Stewey's handwriting, I would think that I got my groove on, and in a fit of domestic organization, decided to get crap done around here.
The list is simple enough, really. I won't bore you with the intimate details shared between Mo-ther and "son", but it basically means that if I don't get the laundry done, the house cleaned, and the decor changed out to reflect the new season, Aunt Chrissy will have a permanent roommate.
Hmmmmm. Wonder if I should have thought of this years ago?
In any event, I'm in the Happy Chair with Laura J. Perin's Bargello Egg today (while the laundry sploshes around, mind you), and tomorrow I will tackle the cleaning of the house. In the meantime, I'm passing along a note from stitchy friend Lynda Baldauf:
I'm writing to tell you about my Spring Home Show coming up April 19, 20, and 21. I run my business, Scandinavian Stitches, from my home in Old Greenwich, CT (a 50 minute car ride from New York City).
Twice a year, I transform my home into a two-story Needlework shop and open up to fellow stitchers. Those who have come in the past have had so much fun, that they come year after year, and they bring their friends. I have door prizes, snacks and a thank you gift for everyone, just for coming. They meet fellow stitchers and share their projects in a supportive community environment.
I would love to invite more stitchers. However, I am hesitant to advertise to the general public, since this event is in my home. Would you consider mentioning it in your blog? If anyone would like to come, they would just need to RSVP to me with an email to info@scandinavianstitches.com or call 203-637-6832. Then I will gladly send them my address and directions.
I appreciate your consideration and your time.
Oh, how I wish Hoosierville was but a short drive to Old Greenwich! If you attend, please have a great time and then tell us all about it! And can I get a big Woo Hoo from Miss Lynda for hosting such a fun day? Makes me want to REALLY get this place cleaned up so that we might try it here too!
Have a wonderful weekend, kids! See you on the other side!
Apr 1, 2013
CHELLO, MOJO.
A glorious weekend was had by all here at Chez Spinster. It all started on Friday night when I got the bright idea that we should have a Game of Thrones marathon in preparation for the season premier. So I whipped up some shrimp and scallop linguine and we were off to the races. Laura J. Perin's Stained Glass Windows kept me company for the first evening's episodes (I think there were seven, but I lost count after 1am):
I started Laura J. Perin's Bargello Egg on Saturday, and am thrilled to report that I made some pretty good progress in between eating and Game of Throning. It's amazing what you can accomplish during 21 hours of HBO series programming:
But I have to say that the best part of the weekend (in my opinion, at least) were these little beauties:
I watched The Pioneer Woman make them on her show last week, and said to myself "I bet those would be pretty tasty for Easter brunch". Boy was I right. Delicious! (I will confess that I used already prepared hash browns right out of the bag -- the refrigerated kind, not the frozen -- and they worked beautifully despite the warnings from PW that they might not.) They did. You can find the recipe on her web site here: http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2013/03/eggs-in-hash-brown-nests/, or just do this:
Spray a muffin tin really really well with Pam (or a cooking spray of your choice).
Smoosh the hash brown into the muffin tins and make a little indent in the middle. (Build a nest).
Bake at 450 degrees until the hash browns are brown and crispy.
Crack an egg into each nest.
Bake at 400 degrees until the eggs are done the way you like them.
I hope that your weekend was swell! Woo Hoo!
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