THE VERY FIRST ANNUAL SPINSTER STITCHER STITCHY YEAR IN REVIEW

It wasn't too shabby a year, stitching-wise.  These are the pieces that I completed (the Peacock Squares photo is in progress, but I promise I finished it...I just don't have a clue as to where it ended up).

This is the first time, I think, that I've reviewed my year in stitching.  I am really pleasantly surprised by the amount of fun that I had...

Laura J. Perin

Victorian Ribbons

Carolyn Manning Designs

Blossom

Laura J. Perin

Valentine Wreath

The Drawn Thread

B My Valentine

Laura J. Perin

Little Box of Chocolates

Princess & Me

Hearts Afire

(you just knew I had to get a picture of Stewey in here...)

Lizzie Kate

My To Do List

Laura J. Perin

Long Spring Panel

Carolyn Manning Designs

Sparkle

Stickideen von der Wiehenburg

Halloween Square (in Easter colors)

Needle Delights Originals

Tidbits (in Spring colors)

DebBee's Designs

Royal Gardens

Needle Delights Originals

Copper and Turquoise

Zecca

Bird in a Nest

The Spinster Stitcher (holy crap, I designed something!)

Bargello Challenge

Stickideen von der Wiehenburg

Peacock Squares

Lavender and Lace

Angel of Love

Well, kids, that's it for me this year.  I am in the Happy Chair with my magic blanket and needle in hand...ready to ring in 2017!  Stay warm and safe and dry, Happy New Year, and we'll see you on the other side!  WooHoo!

JUST A SMALL ALMOST END OF YEAR THOUGHT...

I thought that I would be lost in the mourning of all of the things that left me this year, but it turns out that I actually gained so much more than I ever could have imagined at this stage of my life.

I have felt love and support from friends, both old and new, and I discovered that I have the capacity to love fiercely, and to be strong and brave, even when the odds are quite stacked against me.  

I gained peace...something I thought I would never have again, and I gained a profound gratitude that the peace came when I needed it most, but least expected it.

The New Year will soon be upon us, and it is my wish that it brings us all good health, abundant prosperity, and abiding joy, and that love will still find a way to make everything better.

 (The print above is by Sam Toft...my very favorite!)

CHRISMACOMA

I'm sure that I am not alone in my level of inactivity this week.  The days seem to be spent in front of the fireplace and Christmas lights in a bit of a post holiday trance.  The gifts that I bought for myself from the Amazon arrive on the doorstep and I savor the opening of every box.

(Before you get too excited for me, I should point out that I bought things like Post It notes for my new planner and nail polish.  No diamonds or sportscars....just little fun lovelies that make me happy.)

The leftovers in the fridge might make it one more day, but I'm already looking forward to a quick trip for New Year's.  If I'm still feeling this festive, I might actually pick up one or two of the little mini bottles of proseco that I caught a glimpse of last week.  They're quite small and probably not even a proper glass, but what a nice way to toast in some new beginnings.

Stay tuned for a Spinster Stitcher Stitchy Year In Review.  If my calculations are correct, I finished a total of sixteen projects this year and am very excited to compile a list to contemplateas I start to fill up my basket for 2017!

AAAAHHHH....THAT'S BETTER

Spiff up the meathooks...

And get back to a very dear old friend...

Today will be a quick run to the Targets for provisions whether I like it or not, because I seem to have run out of everything at once...napkins, dishwasher soap, dryer sheets, paper plates, etc.  When this happens, my world tilts precariously on its access and I get completely out of sorts.

(Who knew there was such comfort to be had in a box of Cascade and a few extra rolls of Bounty in the cupboard?)

Still feeling the effects of Operation Get It Together And Just Be A Normal Functioning Semi-Well Adjusted Adult For Once, but I suppose this is to be expected.  I sometimes forget that I really am a delicate little flower and not the big bull in a china shop I've always been.

(This is the part where you roll on the floor at my use of the words "delicate" and "flower" to describe myself because you know better and because somewhere Stewey is snickering into his smoking jacket.)

Happy Tuesday, kids!  Hope you are doing whatever your heart desires today!

AND THE SPINSTER WAS HUNGOVER BY THE CHIMNEY WITH CARE...

Wow.  You would think that I ran several marathons over the holiday weekend.  I am totally wiped out today and contemplating a return to the big girl sleigh bed for the duration.

(Who knew that slapping a smile on your face and forcing festive could be so darn exhausting?!)

OK...if I make it out of the big girl sleigh bed today I hereby vow to get a needle and thread in my hands or the entire lot of my studio is going on eBay.  This is getting a little nutso, even for me.  I need to remember the connection between my sanity and time spent with stitching in hand!

Onward!

(Which is something Winston Churchill said.  I watched "Churchill's Secret" on Masterpiece last night, and there he was, with a big banner that said "Onward!" on it.)

(Hmmmm....I'm sensing a theme for the new year.)

AND THERE WAS FEASTING, AND IT WAS...GOOD...ISH

Well, we managed to survive Christmas.  There was no gun play, screaming, hair pulling, or loss of limb this year, so I suppose that's a good thing.

My menu for Christmas Eve was supposed to be simple...an antipasto, stuffed shells, Caesar salad, and garlic knots.

The hit of the evening was the "antipasto"...which turned out to be a mishmash of stuff that I picked up, but probably didn't really go together:

The black things in the middle are Mission figs.  I was trying for an Ina inspired figs and prosciuto, but alas, this is Hoosierville, and obtaining fresh figs was not possible.  The pepperocini and artichoke hearts were last minute additions, because (despite Ina's warning not to make it look like the dog's breakfast), I did just that and filled the platter.

We ate the above with multi grain pita chips (my sister's favorite).

The stuffed shells were...eh.  Next time methinks I will go with the ready-mades and a jar of sauce and be done with it.  Starting from scratch wasn't quite worth it.

Neither the Caesar salad nor the garlic knots saw the light of day, but I suppose that just means I will have both for lunch this week.

Christmas Day was supposed to be shrimp cocktail, ham, scalloped potatoes, cheddar biscuits, green beans, and fruit salad, but the ham was a total bust and we ended up face first in the appetizers again.  I also made broccoli/cheese/rice casserole and potato salad last night at the last minute (because, God forbid, I ever leave well enough alone and not cook for eighty six people), so this time the biscuits and green beans were the items to go by the wayside.

(See comment re: lunch above.)

Tomorrow I will slink into the Honey Baked Ham store and beg for a few slices to bring home for sandwiches.  The ham in the fridge will go into the freezer and we'll deal with it another day.  I guess there's a reason why ham from the Honey Baked Ham store costs what it does and ham from the bin at the grocery store does not.

Who knew I was such a ham snob?

The final verdict is still out, but I am thinking that the failure was twofold...firstly, I think the glaze that came with the ham had a very peculiar flavor. Liquid smoke?  Clove?  I just should have made my own with brown sugar, dijon, etc.  The second issue was that I burned the living crap out of it in the crock pot...like a total doofus...and then tried re-hydrating it with a splash of orange juice.

(So much for me knowing my way around a kitchen.  I'm going back to following recipes like a boss rather than pretending like I'm auditioning to be on the Food Network, and I'm chucking that damn crock pot into the bin.)

The fruit salad though, was lovely.  I put walnuts in it, which is something I've never done before.  Me likey!

I was wringing my hands over the "failure" of the food when I heard my Dad's voice say "CJ, you've had perfect food and it turned out to be the worst Christmas ever.  Maybe this year the food won't be perfect but the Christmas will be.  How's that sound, kid?"

And I stopped fretting, poured another cup of coffee, and enjoyed a perfectly lovely day with Bosco and Aunt Chrissy and all was well.

Oh, and yes, in case you were wondering...I would have made these same menus even if it would have been just me.  (You should have seen my Thanksgiving spread!)  This sad fact comes from a saying that my mom had in her kitchen..."A full cupboard bespeaketh a generous heart".  I'm pretty sure that the two really aren't related at all...wouldn't a generous person's cupboard be bare because they constantly gave their stuff away?...but I guess we never thought to ponder it.)

(After all, this is the same mom that, in the middle of a stern lecture about respecting your mother...pointed to yet another plaque in the kitchen and hollered "Read that sign and tell me what it says!!"  And we looked up at it and said "Love one another".  At which point she turned around to read it herself and muttered "Son of a &;($@!  All this time I thought the damn thing said "LOVE THY MOTHER"!)

What can I say?  I come by my sense of irony from my mother.  I think I get my reading skills from my dad.

Photographic evidence that not every single story I tell y'all on this here blog is fiction:

My needles are calling me.  A few more days of Christmasy stuff and then it's up to the studio to assemble some things for the New Year!

Here's hoping that your own feasting was...festive!  Only six more sleeps until a new year!

Merry Christmas from The Spinster Stitcher!

May the day be lovely and bright, and the upcoming year be filled with love, health, and joy!

CHRISTMAS BLESSINGS

This is Bosco, my puppy nephew.

Bosco decided to come for a Christmas visit to his Aunt Tubby's house, and he came in, gave Stewey's little box a kiss, and plopped himself in my lap to tell me all his secrets and to hear all of mine.

We've always had a very special bond, Bosco and I.  He is a perfectly lovely little fellow, and we seem to connect on a level that is both juvenile and ornery.  I encourage him to do naughty things to his mommie (my sister), and he (quite innocently) vows to always be a good boy.

So today we will sit in the Happy Chair together and eat some ham and watch Clark Griswold, and then he might spend the night before heading home with his mommie.

Best. Present. Ever.

Dear Friends,

This has been a year of profound loss and change for Yours Truly, but along with that loss and change came the amazing grace and comfort of a world that is beyond my imaginings.  I have been wrapped in your warm wishes, carried on your supportive shoulders, and been blessed to count you as one of the lovely gifts of my life.

My wish for you in the new year is that you will have at least one moment of knowing how much you matter in this world, and how loved you are by someone who had the good fortune to feel that way too.

With all my love,

Coni

HOW MANY MAGIC BLANKETS DOES ONE PORTLY SPINSTER NEED?

I couldn't resist.

Since Stewey died, I have been trying to find something that would replicate his mink-like-soft-downy cozy-furry-warmness in the Happy Chair.

You might remember that Chez Spinster is the home to dozens of soft blankets of the semi-magical type, but one has Christmas trees on it and is the closest thing I've found to the feel of his coat.

(I swear, that dog was part bunny rabbit.  Between the fur, the little bunny teeth, the ears, and his propensity for hopping...methinks there was quite a party going on down at Willowswamp Farm!)

This blanket also, I suspect, has magical powers, because I was out like a light and snoring into my swearshirt within ten minutes of crawling under it.  Do you suppose that "sherpa lining" is actually code for "sedative laced fibers that make you want to close you eyes and have happy dreams"?

Off to one last appointment and then to the grocery for feasting provisions for the weekend.  The menu this year is simple...stuffed shells, a Caesar salad, and garlic knots for Christmas Eve and ham, scalloped potatoes, and green bean casserole for Christmas Day.  If I'm smart enough to remember the puffed pastry at the market, I'm also going to try my hand at Ina's sticky buns for a Christmas morning treat.  i would prefer a big fat Cinnabon, but alas, we are without a franchise in our area.

So that's the Thursday report for the day.  No stitching, I'm afraid.  Don't fret on that front, though, since I'm determined to play with needle and thread this afternoon!

SATURDAY COCKPIT

Vitamin water...check

Toasty fire and Notre Dame game on the TeeVee...check

Stewey's little box on its perch in front of the tree...check

Newspaper read, now on to the puzzles...check

It's a really good thing I don't need to solve world peace or fly anything heavy today.  My brain is moving at a pace slower than even I thought possible, but I'm perfectly OK with that and am just...Saturdaying.  If I can, I am going to attempt a little stitching...but if I can't that's OK too.  Last time I checked, the world wasn't going to stop spinning on its axis due to my lack of supervision.

Holey schmoley....insight AND acceptance of the way things are.  I really must be unwell!

Thank you for all of your lovely notes and kind words.  I'm sorry that I am so behind in answering them all individually, but...oh crap...you know.

AND THEN IT GOT WORSE...

I think the universe is poking me in the eye to see if I'm paying attention.

That damn flu came back yesterday, and I spent the morning at the doctor...getting poked, prodded, and patted.

The patting part was nice...a kind nurse took pity on me as I blathered on and on about all of the crap that's dropped on my head lately, and she even cooed "There, there" gently, while tenderly sticking the thermometer so far into my ear I thought it would come out of the other side of my head.

Whatever this is has decided to settle in my ears and neck, and in addition to feeling generally unwell, I feel like I'm doing it underwater and listing to one side. (I had all of the stuff on the left side of my neck taken out 25 years ago when I had thyroid cancer, so now the right side of my neck seems to be taking the brunt of everything.)

I was doing OK and listening to Dr. Barbara's directions about Tylenol, fluids, rest, etc, but when she told me that I am pretty much grounded and can't go to the Dressing Downton tea on Sunday, I cried pitiful tears all over the front of my sweater.

And then she ordered nineteen pages of labwork, gave me a list of stuff I can take for congestion, and got the heck outta there before I was able to grab her by the front of her labcoat and tell her I want my mommie.

Oey.  It is, most absolutely certainly, not easy being me at the moment.  I am going to take my Gatorade and crawl back into bed until the Spring thaw.

Here's hoping that your weekend is off to a much better start and that you stay warm and safe and dry and plague free for the duration!

P.S.  I decided to leave well enough alone with the baking this year and try again for Easter.

Damn Greek cookies.

SERIOUSLY?

Just when I thought it was starting to turn around here at Chez Spinster...

Yup.

You guessed it.

The damn Greek cookies.

This year, though, I decided to try something new...incinerate them.  

These are koulrakia...Greek twist cookies that are usually made at Easter.  But, for reasons completely unknown to me, I associate them with Christmas and my mom sitting by the tree in her robe and slippers, with a cup of coffee and a couple of these damn cookies.

I have been making these damn cookies for about 39 years, and for 39 years I swear I will never do it again, but instead, I'll order a case of the damn Stella Doro breakfast treats (a very close imitation of these) and be done with it.

But every year, I end up in the egg aisle muttering "Screw it" as I gather the seven dozen eggs and nine pounds of butter and twelve-teen boxes of Swan's Down cake flour.  And then I forget the orange juice and get home and realize that I'm out of baking powder and I drink a glass of something strong and go back to the damn grocery store to get the rest of the stuff for the damn Greek cookies.

This year, though, I made it all the way to the clean up stage...thinking that I had finally, after 39 freakin years, mastered the making of the damn Greek cookies, and I bloody well burned the lot of them.

Nuts and fiddlesticks and every other word I can think of without jeopardizing a visit from You Know Who this year.

I'm off to have a nice long soak in the tub followed by a quiet evening of Netflix, and then I'll get up and try it again tomorrow.  

If I'm not back in a couple of days with pictures of perfectly twisted cookies, you will probably be able to me face down in a pile of egg yolks and flour somewhere.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

ONE MONTH

It's been one month today.  I swear, it feels more like a thousand years, but today I am going to think happy funny thoughts about my Little.

(I'm still in the well, but now I seem to be sitting upright at the bottom of it rather than lying face down in the complete darkness.  Eventually, I will be able to kneel...then stand...then start climbing one step at a time out of it and back up onto the surface of things. But for now I am in familiar territory and am breathing and not completely broken, so methinks a few more days down here will be OK.)

Today I want to think about his funny little overbite and how, when he really wanted to get you rolling on the floor, he'd get his upper lip stuck and stick his front teeth out like Jerry Lewis.  And the minute I'd catch sight of this, I would howl and belly laugh and completely forget about whatever it was that he had just done that should have made me cross with him, but gave me reason to scoop him up and laugh and laugh at his funny little bunny teeth.

Or the time that I heard something coming from the vacinity of his little bed, and I caught him chewing a stick of gum....casually...like he might have had something for lunch that was full of garlic or onion and he wanted minty fresh breath for his afternoon nap.

I could also think about his special "friend" Stumpy the Moose, and how I had to teach him that "private time" with Stumpy was probably best had in actual private and not in the middle of the living room floor when company was visiting. 

(As God is my witness...All I had to say was "Stewey, please do that in private" and he would drag that poor moose into the bedroom.  One evening, Aunt Chrissy and I grew concerned when he disappeared with Stumpy for what seemed like a very long time.  I will spare you the inappropriate details, but suffice it to say that it involved a $250 bill at the emergency vet for what I believe is referred to as a "happy ending" in less than reputable establishments worldwide.)

This funny little furry creature was my entire life for eleven years, four months, and eight days and I honestly don't think I would trade one single moment of that for anything...not even to erase the pain I feel now.  I got to be a Mommie and discovered things about myself that I never would have imagined to be true...like my capacity to love something that deeply or to accept love in return.

For such a little thing, he sure left a big hole in my silly world, but I'm slowly filling up that hole with happy memories.  Thanks for indulging me.  I know that if he were here he'd be completely exasperated with his Mo-ther for the dramatics, but some things, I suppose, must never change.

BLECH...

I thought I would jump out of bed this morning armed in the outfit of a petite blond triathlete.

Instead, I rolled over and looked at the clock and realized that I am still a flu-ridden portly grey haired spinster who can't make a proper roast beef to save her pitiful little life.

Boiled...blech.

Every roast I've attempted in the last several years has positively sucked.  I follow directions and hope for the best, but somehow end up with an awful lump of beef that is boiled, tasteless, and headed for the garbage bin.

Even the vegetable betrayed me this time.  The carrots tasted like soap and the potatoes were still a bit raw after a full eight hours of cooking.

So I threw a big pout, scraped it all into a Tupperware, and headed back to the Happy Chair for pretzels and ginger ale.  

Damn flu.

Don't cry for me, Argentina.  I will go soak my head in a hot bath, put on some freshly laundered jams, and will keep pushing the fluids and happy thoughts until this runs its course.  I promise to behave myself and won't channel my inner Ina until the proper authorities have released me to do so, but if any of you have tips on making perfect pot roast...I'm all ears!

AND THE AWARD FOR A SNOOZY SLEEPY SUNDAY GOES TO...

3:14 pm.

As in 3:14 in the afternoon.

The afternoon!

That's what time my toes eventually hit the floor today.  I did get up at 9 and put a tiny little roast in the crock pot, but rather than start my day like a normal human person, I dove back under the covers in the big girl sleigh bed and went back to sleep.

I must have needed the rest, because I awoke feeling slightly better than I did yesterday.  Still a bit flu-ish, but at least I am semi-upright in the Happy Chair for the duration:

The project on the left is Laura J. Perin's Christmas Panel.  I started it last night while watching Mary Poppins, and I somehow managed to get the borders completed on the bottom section.  After all the cross stitching and beading on Vaceila it was a pleasure to play with canvas again, and what better way to do so than with my favorite LJP.

It's cold and snowy and just beautiful outside.  Stewey's box is on its little perch and the tree lights are making me very happy.

In a few minutes I will make some egg noodles to accompany the tiny little roast for dinner, and then I think I will tackle a batch of Greek cookies.  I might only get the dough mixed, but I can twist and roll them tomorrow when I'm fresh!

Happy Sunday, dearies!  I hope that you are doing something you love today!

DAMN, DRAT, AND PHLOOEY

I am supposed to be at a holiday luncheon at the moment with my stitchy sisters.  Instead, I am under the blankets with Tylenol and Gatorade.

I feel like a little kid that wants to be out playing, but who is stuck on the couch with chicken pox, a teevee tray, ginger ale, and soda crackers instead.

Phooey.

I did stitch a bit last night, but I cannot show you any proof of that.  We are piloting a class and the instructor has expressly forbidden any sharing of it, so I will be a good spinster and follow the rules.

This time.

Here's hoping that your Saturday is fantastic and flu free!  

VACEILA FEE NEE

Angel of Love

(aka Vaceila)

Lavender and Lace

28ct. tea dyed linen by Charles Craft

DMC floss, metallic

Kreinik

Mill Hill beads

I want to send a special thank you to Miss Emily of eclecticpossessions fame.  I first spotted this piece on her Flosstube and Instagram channels and was immediately smitten.  Vaceila got me through Stewey's illness and passing (along with all of you), and there are an awful lot of emotions stitched into her.  I am going to take her to be framed as soon as I am back up on my feet...stay tuned for the final reveal!

A little more Gatorade and I'm heading back to the big girl sleigh bed!  Night night, all!

NUTS

You know that feeling when you're just sitting there minding your own business and you suddenly think to yourself "Hmmm.  I think I might be getting the flu."

Well...that's me at the moment.

I had planned on finishing Vaceila today, but I am heading back to bed instead.  I loaded up on fluids, took a couple of Tylenol, and had a nice hot soak in a bubble bath, so all will be well shortly, I'm sure.

So here's to happy thoughts that this too shall pass...and quickly!

HAPPY MAIL!

More Christmas presents arrived today!  You know how much I adore Laura J. Perin, so getting her Christmas Panel and Holiday Wreath kitted up and on deck is making for a very very happy Monday indeed!

SUNDAY SPINSTER SEMI BLISS

I can't have full bliss because...well, you know...but that doesn't mean that I can't have a little semi bliss on a chilly Sunday morning, right?

This is my first Christmas present to myself this year.  I am so excited about it that I did a little prancy dance out there in the driveway in front of God and everybody when I realized that the new delivery guy didn't forget me today...he just delivered to the wrong mailbox.

(At least I hope that was the case....otherwise, I've swiped my neighbor's newspaper!)

I wish I could tell you how darn happy this stupid paper makes me.  It's like a big fat box of chocolates that I get to open and savor...piece by piece...section by section...all week long.  Oh, what joy!

Now before you tell me that I could have been reading the paper on my iPad thingie, let me just state once and for all that I am a purist and simply must have the feel of ink on paper in my hand with my damn good cup of coffee or the whole experience just flops.

So that's my day today.  Coffee, the Sunday papers, the fireplace set to toasty, and then some beading on dear Vaceila.  She's almost ready for her halo and headpiece:

If all goes according to plan I will finish her up and get started on a Guild assignment that needs my urgent attention.  We are piloting a class and have to have it completed soon, and I have yet to start the darn thing!  Given my propensity for seeking acceptance and approval constantly, I'd better get crackin' or I'm going to have to go sit in the corner...ashamed and alone to contemplate my failure.

Oey...

But first, the paper!   And coffee!

Here's hoping that your Sunday is as blissful as it can possibly be.  Do something that makes your heart sing and your skirt blow up and come tell me all about it!

I SWEAR, THAT TREE IS SCREWING WITH ME...

Do you remember, about a year ago, when Stewey and I saw the bright yellow tree out back with the one red leaf smack dab in the middle of it?

Remember?  I waxed all poetical and took a craptastic photo of it:

See?  Right there in the middle.  One.  Red.  Leaf.

So today I came home from an all day outing with my Guild Sisters...my first since Stewey died, and as I was passing him in his little wooden box on his perch on the back of the loveseat, something caught my eye out the back window:

Can you see it?  Right there in the middle of the tree?  

Look closely....

Right damn smack in the middle of that tree is a bright red cardinal.

Yup.  A bright red cardinal.  If my old wives tales are up to date and accurate, I think that when you see a bright red cardinal, it means that a loved one that has passed is thinking of you.  Or hovering nearby. Or something to that effect.

All I do know is that the universe is either telling me that everything is going to be OK and that Stewey is having a grand time of it up there wherever he is, or I have finally flipped my wig entirely and a bright red cardinal smack dab in the damn middle of a green tree means nothing other than it's cardinal tree sitting time and that I might want to consider upping my meds.

So...that's what happened here today.  What's up in your neck of the woods?

WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH ME?

Just when I thought I was safe, I awoke yesterday to a weepy, funky mess of a self all day long.  It was bad enough that at nine o'clock last night I actually started laughing at how silly I must look...shuffling about the house with tissues stuffed in my cuffs and blubbering incoherently to the Christmas tree.

I think I read someplace that grief comes in waves, but this is a little nuts.  One minute I'm at the Martins buying bagels and peanut butter, and the next minute I'm face down in a puddle of tears clutching Stewey's blanket like I'm a deranged three year old.

So much for handling things with dignity and grace.

I supose that a qualified mental health professional would tell me that what I'm doing is actually normal, and is probably a release of grief from every loss.  I was twenty-one when Mom died and had Dad and Chrissy to look after, and when Dad died some seventeen years later I guess I was still in the "be strong and lead your family" mode.

Now it's just me, and I don't need to suck it up and act like I've got it semi together, so I suppose all of it has decided to just gush out all over my freshly swept floors. For the first time since 1987 I guess I am feeling like it's OK to be sad and weak and raw and a holy crock pot of a royal mess.

What a strange sensation....

The good news is that the wave seems to have passed today, and so far I've managed to get through a damn good cup of coffee, the paper, and the Jumble without any meltdowns.  The Sudoko might be another story, though, so I'm not going to put the hanky away just yet.

I have a few small errands to run (more beads for Vaceila!), and then it's home to pay bills, do a little laundry, and get some serious stitching done.  I am feeling the need to insert a little Christmas stitching into my "All Vaceila all the time" rotation, so a trip upstairs to the studio might be in order!

Thanks for letting me ponder and ramble, dear friends.  I've always loathed the concept of sharing one's most inner secrets (despite my propensity for doing exactly that on this here blog), but it sure feels nice to know that a tender heart is in such wonderful hands!