MY POOR BUBBIE....

We've had a sports-related injury here at Chez Spinster.  As of this morning, the Doozie Ball World Champion has stubbed his little toe.  From the sounds of things coming from You Know Who, you'd think we had suffered a partial amputation....

Damn dog.

We're off like a herd of (injured, yet sporting a cute little cast with chickens on it) turtles!

THE WAY BACK?

I've been so frustrated with my lack of stitching (and reading and writing and cooking and blogging and sleeping) that I decided to go back to basics.  A lovely little needlepoint canvas done all in tent stitch with Vineyard Silks.

This is Birds of a Feather's Flowers in a Yellow Vase:

THEY REALLY SHOULD MAKE PILLS FOR THIS

My mo-ther can't come to the blog right now.  She's collapsed (yet again) into a hysterical mess of a heap over this:

As I'm sure many of you are aware, my stupid mo-ther is a self diagnosed agoraphobic with moderate to severe panic disorder....who didn't leave the house for a period of eight years.

(She says it's because she was afraid that she would break out into a flop sweat and then chatter like a circus monkey over the prospect of having normal human interaction, but I think the only reason why she played this little drama to the hilt is because she didn't have a proper bra.  Or haircut.)

So now she's thrown herself across the davenport with her forearm draped across her face while she bemoans the fact that the garden has yet to be planted, the patio furniture has yet to be placed, the geraniums have yet to be positioned, and she is never going to leave the confines of her freshly shampooed Happy Chair again.

If it weren't for the fact that I abhor violence so, I would get a garden spade from the garage and dispatch this situation forthwith.  As it is, I am going to have to call my Aunt Chrissy to ask her to prepare the guest quarters.

Methinks it's going to be a long summer.

I do hope that this finds you well and that things are considerably less dramatic in your corner of the world.

With much love from your pal, 

Stewey

AND THEN THE HAPPY CHAIR GOT A BATH

So there I was, minding my very own business, when it occurred to me that there might be a solution to the Stewey "issue" here at Chez Spinster.

"I can call people!", I thought to myself.  "I can call people who know how to clean things, and I can ask these people to bring their cleaning machines to help me rid myself once and for all of the "situation" we've developed over the short nine years that Stewey has been watering the planet!"

So at 10 am on the d.o.t., two nice men named Terry and Nick arrived with their cleaning machines to spiff things up once and for all.  At first, I was mortified that they would see that I have furniture older than Methuselah His Very Self, but they assured me that they've seen worse and I shouldn't be embarrassed over a piddle or two.

Especially when you consider that Stwey met them at the door wearing his best silk smoking jacket, and promptly offered them a cold beverage. (Martinis, thankyouverymuch.  Stirred, not shaken.  With twists.)

Damn dog.

A few Sure-fit slipcovers later and I'm now suitable for guests.  Aunt Chrissy and my Jersey Boy won't know what hit 'em.

We're not even going to talk about the state of NON-STITCHING that's going on around here.  If I don't get a needle in my hand this evening, there's going to be hell to pay.

What's new in your world?  Hopefully your furniture and carpets are piddle-free and your needles are flying!

NOW YOU KNOW WHAT I'VE BEEN UP TO, BY THE SPINSTER STITCHER HER VERY SELF

I shamelessly boosted this from a fellow stitcher's page on the Facebook.  Isn't it genius?

Seriously, though, kids...all is well.  Just trying to keep my crazy on the inside.  Stewey and I are getting Chez Spinster in some semblance of order for the Spring and Summer, and I'm fretting over a complete lack of stitching progress.

Maybe I should look for a clean dress?