THE BEST PART OF THANKSGIVING (OTHER THAN THE THANKS AND GIVING)

Everything came out hot and tasty, the feasting was over by 3, the kitchen was clean by 3:30, and I was napping by 4!

 

 

OH, MISS LAURA....HOW I'VE MISSED YOU SO!

If you've been my friend for more than ten minutes, you probably know how much I love Laura J Perin Her Very Self. I have enjoyed several of her pieces over the years, and last night....as I was twitching for something other than cross stitch...I found Holiday Ribbons in my Christmas basket.

Oh, what joy! What fun! It was EXACTLY what I was looking for!

I had made a pretty good start on this last year or the year before, so I concentrated on the lower right corner. I think once I get that completed I'll jump onto the excellent chart and proceed according to the instructions.

Thanksgiving provisions have been procured, thanks to a few small orders from the DoorDash. (I haven't had any of my vaccines yet, so I'm steering clear of public spaces for a bit). Our menu will be exactly the same as always...roasted turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, two stuffings, green bean casserole, corn pudding, sweet potatoes, two cranberry sauces, dinner rolls, and two pies.

(I'm just here for the Siggy Specials after dinner...turkey, mayo, celery sticks, and salt and pepper on Pepperidge Farm white bread.)

Cheers, Dearies! I'm off to the shower and then back to stitching!

HAVE YOU SEEN MY MINIONS?

I'm having a quiet Monday, Dearies. It's a bit gloomy outside, so I've been happily slurping my damn good under my Thanksgiving Snoopy blanket. It's not looking very lively in the holiday productivity department, unfortunately. There are so many things to be done, but the elves that run the place seem to have flown the coop.

Oh well. More time for their supervisor to stitch and do nothing, right?

My progress on stitching all the things for Christmas is quite tiny, but no complaints. I'm just enjoying pulling whatever strikes my fancy and poking it a bit before getting lost in something on the TeeVee or heading under the covers with my book. (I'm about half-way through Babel (the Huang one), and am enjoying it immensely because it's situated at Oxford.)

So here is the report:

I hope your weekend was swell! My Irish won their football game decidedly....they beat Syracuse by 67 points, but my Jersey Boy's Sixers and Eagles didn't fare as well. We were both a bit lumpy, but did manage to have a good dinner last night before getting lost in yet another limited series on the Netflix or the Apple, or whatever other crazy thingie on there that shows us all kinds of stuff.

I hope your week ahead is full of fun. If I manage to get out of the chair today, I might actually do some things, but in the meantime...I'll be right here:

Cheers!

SATURDAY SPINSTER BLISS

 

IT MAY BE HALF-HEINEYED, BUT IT'S A START

I had visions of hot cocoa, Christmas music playing softly in the background, the scent of cookies wafting over the perfectly decorated CS2 while lovingly sorting through baskets full of stitchy fun, clad in soft and cozy flannel holiday attire.

Crap on a cracker, when am I EVER going to figure it out?

I'm in an eighteen year old sweatshirt with pajama bottoms on that are so old the elastic gave out sometime during my Junior year...of high school. The only thing wafting is the smell of burnt potato and olive oil, because no matter how many times I read the damn directions, I can't seem to make anything in the air fryer without setting it on fire first. The "music" is the festive tones of my Jersey Boy hollering obscenities at the Sixers game, and the decorations are still stuffed in a closet someplace because SOMEBODY can't be bothered to get herself out of bed or her chair long enough to put them up.

Phooey.

It's gonna have to do for now, Dearies. Something has knocked me for a loop, and I just don't have either the energy or the strength to do anything other than sleep. I stumble around with good intentions, I promise you, but my giddy up seems to be giddied elsewhere.

I'm going to start with the Mill Hill Santa and see how it goes, and if I get a boost tomorrow or later this weekend, I might fish a bit further in the WiP pile and Christmas basket. We'll see.

Cheers to you for putting up with my kvetching. Thanks for hanging in there with me!

 

FEE NEE!

 

DAMNIT, PINTEREST.

 

 

IT MUST BE A LIMA, OHIO THING?

 

Raise your hand if you know what I call the beverage in my glass.

Nobody?

It's red pop.

Yes. You read that correctly.

Red.

Pop.

I finished cleaning up the post-dinner kitchen and found a bottle of Faygo hidden in the back of the fridge. (I'm pretty sure it's there because I ordered groceries like a twelve year old boy the last time Rich went to New Jersey, and I ended up with a few things that harkened back to my childhood.)

When we were kids, weekends meant Grandma's house. (My Uncle Connie lived with Grandma and took care of her before he and Aunt Linda were married, so weekends were an opportunity for him to have a little free time). So my cousins David and Brian and my sister and I would head over to Lewis Blvd with pj's and sleeping bags and we'd visit with Grandma and Mickey the dog...which was always an American Eskimo Spitz.

(And always named Mickey.)

Uncle Connie always loaded up the downstairs fridge with all kinds of pop. (Soda if you're from the East...Coke if you're from the South. Pop if you're from Lima.) There were bright shiny bottles of Orange Crush, Teem, Vernors Ginger Ale, and...Red Pop. I think it might have been called Big Red, but we called it red pop and drank it with our popcorn in front of The Carol Burnette Show on a big floor-tablecloth in front of the TV.

So tonight I poured that red pop into my glass and settled in to stitch, and JB looks over, sees the red liquid in the glass, and says "What the heck are you drinking, Con?" and I said "Campari", which gave him a minor stroke...and then I said "Red pop".

(Explanations ensued.)

So that's what I'm doing, Dearies. I'm sitting in my chair with my red pop and my stitching and thinking about Grandma's house, where there was always baloney sandwiches, ten kinds of cereal, and lots and lots of red pop.

Happy Thursday. I'm going to put the iPad thingie down for a few days and try to re-set my tiny little brain. I hope you have a wonderful weekend and that you get to do all of the things. Have fun and come tell me all about it!

IN WHICH WE MELT DOWN ALL OVER THE DARN PLACE

 

Oh, Good Grief. I am, as the kids say, having a moment.

It's been thirty-eight years since my mom died, but I miss her more fiercely now than ever before, and I just don't know what to do with myself. Here I stand, on the doorstep of sixty, and I haven't a clue how to be a fully grown a$$ woman who has enough sense not to act like a child most of the time.

They say that you freeze emotionally at the age you were when you lost your mom, so that means I'm wandering around down here as a clueless twenty-one year old. I just don't know how to do this, Dearies. So instead of figuring it out, I grab the tape and glitter and fumble my way through and hope that nobody notices that underneath all of the clowning...is a big fat mess.

My to do list for the day is as long as my arm, but instead of actually attacking it, I'm still sitting in my chair drinking coffee at 4:10pm and wondering what to make for dinner. Does that ever go away, by the way? It seems to me that being a woman in a relationship means spending an inordinate amount of time wondering what the hell is so sticky on the countertop and what to make for dinner. (The answer, by the way...is strawberry jelly and tuna melts.) 

(It's always strawberry jelly and tuna melts.)

I am, however, very happy to report that my canvas piece is coming along beautifully, and if I get out of my own way this afternoon, I should be able to get to the half-way point of the border. I am so happy with the decision to frog and re-stitch. It has been a real pleasure to have that angst behind me as I watch those colors come to life, and I think (knock wood), that I will have plenty of thread to finish.

Thank you for indulging me today. I do this every year, I know, and I realize that I will get to do it all over again on Friday when I remember my Stewey. On that day it will be nine years since his passing, so I guess I should just prepare for more waterworks and sadness.

(Waterworks and Sadness. Sounds like a good title for my book, I think.)

Enough. There's things to do and stitches to be made and Outlander to be viewed. Mom would be peeved at my wallowing, I'm sure. 

(Stewey, on the other hand, will be disappointed if flags are not lowered and a moment of silence is not observed, so lemme go find my black outfit and veiled hat for the festivities.)

Cheers to Vaceila. I'd like to think she's happily needlepointing today, with Dad beside her watching a Notre Dame game. As for Stewey...hopefully he's supervising and has finally found a proper valet to keep him in fresh little smoking jackets and cravats.

OKIE DOKIE

Problem solved. 

Dearies, I love you all for giving me soothing pats on my pointy little head and telling me to just let my booboo ride, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out a way to compensate that outer border.

So out it came, in went the inner border, and now we're back to rights.

(Just keep your fingers crossed that I don't run out of thread.)

DAMN, DRAT, AND PHOOEY

Well, Dearies...I have good news and bad news.

The good news is that your intrepid Spinster has matured and no longer launches projects out the window when she discovers an epic fail.

Nor does she put said project in the driveway and back over it repeatedly with the SpinsterMobile while neighbors watch with unbridled horror.

The bad news is that Autumn Quilts is now officially in the TIME OUT basket until I can stop muttering cuss words under my breath because APPARENTLY I NO LONGER KNOW HOW TO READ A &$#@! CHART CORRECTLY and missed an entire inner border before completing a big section of a middle border so now there's nothing to be done but remove the big section of a middle border and pray I have enough thread to finish the damn thing properly.

Phooey.  I'm going to bed.

SUNDAY SPINSTER BLISS

 

Happy Sunday, Dearies!

Quiet weekend here in Hoosierville waiting for the snow to fly. I think we're supposed to get as much as 8-12 inches with this storm, but I am not watching the news on purpose -- I can literally see the grocery store from our front windows, but one flake of snow falls and my inner psychopath starts hollering "WE NEED PROVISIONS! WE NEED PROVISIONS!" and I start regretting the fact that we don't have a root cellar stocked with canned goods for the upcoming blizzard, and I only have 48 rolls of back up toilet paper instead of the requisite 96.

(You can take the Spinster out of Crazytowne, but you can't budge the crazy out of the Spinster. That stuff is buried deep.)

Progress continues on Autumn Quilts. I am determined to finish this before breaking out the Christmas stitching!

No cold brew today. I opted for a lovely French Roast/Smoked Butterscotch in an old favorite mug instead. A tiny splash of creamer and an itty bitty bit of Truvia and it was perfect!

Cheers to the week ahead! What's on your agenda?