HELLO

Well, Dearies, the Official 2025 SpinsterStitcher Week of Christmas Fun has kicked off with great success! Yesterday was all about the business of getting myself sorted. Ready? Here goes...

I took my beloved JB to the airport at the crack of 11am for his journey home to see his mom. This year is especially special, since she has been in a rehab facility for the last three months mending a fractured hip after a fall, and while he was winging his way to her, she was being released and sent home to her condo! So by the time he arrived, she should have been happily ensconced back in her own bed and recliner.

I stopped for a car wash and enjoyed driving around a bit. I forget sometimes what the outside world looks like, and can go weeks without stepping foot outside CS2, so it was nice to listen to some Christmas tunes and dodge potholes for a minute or two.

Then it was on to the CVS for all of the shots. I knew I wanted to get them while Rich was away so that I could be miserable with impunity, and that I might build up a little bit of resistance to whatever he brings home with him from the airplane this year, so without hesitation, I stepped behind that little fabric screen that doesn't hide a damn thing, whipped my big girl sweatshirt off and sat there in my old man Hane's t-shirt while the pharmacy tech did her thing in my non-stitching arm.

Provisions started arriving at 2:00, and by the time the sun went down at 4:30 I was chopping and dicing and slicing away with the air fryer frying and the rice pot ricing.

Viola! I give you my new favorite easy meal...steak bites on rice.

(I realize that the photo implies an enormous portion, but I promise you that the plate/bowl is actually appetizer size and there are lots and lots of leftovers.)

I use stew beef (I'm a spinster on a budget, and it was on sale), mushrooms, onion, and garlic...all in a Ziploc bag with a splash of marinade (Lawry's Steakhouse because it was what we had in the fridge), and then I throw it into the air fryer at 400 degrees for about 15 minutes.

(You take it out of the Ziploc to do so. I was somehow trapped by my own sentence structure there.)

(Yes, Betty. The steak bites are completely overcooked and usually taste like shoe leather, but that's how I like them.)

For the remainder of the night I watched the Outlander and stitched, and I'm happy to report that I went to bed at a relatively early hour for me. When Rich travels I am normally like a six-year old and I try to stay up until the wee hours of the morning so I can say I did, but last might I hit the pillow at midnight.

If you've been reading this here blog for any length of time, then you know exactly what I'm doing today...the day after getting all of the shots.

I'm a sick little mess, Dearies. My arm feels like it's going to fall off, my poor head wants to just split right off of my shoulders, and I'm pretty sure I must have fallen down the stairs last night at least a dozen times. Methinks this year's flu shot also has a tummy component, because even my morning damn good is not staying where it's supposed to.

Oey vey.

But.

The sun is shining, I am cozy and happy under my Stewey magic blanket, and I have the perfect plan for the day...

Enjoy the ball-less tree:

Drink lots of fluids:

And sip the damn good slowly from my favorite Christmas mug.

 

When I'm finished hitting the SEND button here, I'll grab a couple of the damn Greek cookies...which are delicious, by the way!...and finish up my Laura J Perin piece. I only have the background of the stocking ribbon, the border, and final embellishments to go!

I wish I could tell you how much fun I've had playing with this one! It's just been the perfect project for me lately.

So that's the report. I'm well-provisioned, well-hydrated, and happily stitching along today. What are you doing on this Christmas Eve Eve? I hope it's something wonderful and restful and peaceful and calm.

But if frenzy and chaos are your thing...that's good too!

DEAR MOM

Before I get started, let me just say that I love you and miss you so much I sometimes think my heart will just break into more little pieces than it is now. This might not be so apparent by the end of this, because today was...

THE DAMN GREEK COOKIE DAY VERSION 40.0

Mom, I've been trying to bake these damn Greek cookies every Christmas since I was 19 years old in my first little crappy apartment at the edge of campus? Remember how you and Dad begged me to just try one more year in the dorm, but I knew better?  Well, if admitting that you were right and I was wrong will release the curse of the damn Greek cookies...

You were right.

I was wrong.

I have your recipe...the one that is in your handwriting on the back of an envelope. I'm guessing that you scribbled this down one year while Aunt Mary was on the phone from California, and since long-distance calling was pricey...you "abbreviated".

I'm also guessing that you might have had a bad connection and mis-heard the amounts of the ingredients, because I can tell you absolutely positively without any doubt whatsoever that these ingredients, when mixed together, in no way shape or form result in anything that at all resembles...dough.

Siggy, I watched no less that thirty-five videos of nice Greek ladies making these damn Greek cookies, and not a single one of them uses "a dozen egg yolks, a cup of orange juice, or a box of Swan's Down Cake Flour" and then uses "get the dough so it isn't sticky" as the instructions.

If I didn't truly love you as much as I do, I would tell you what you can do with the box of Swan's Down Cake Flour, but based on experience (like when you took me down a flight of stairs and spanked me while wearing your velour robe because my sixteen-year old self got fresh with you after breaking my 9:00 curfew), I will simply say...

You. Win.

Year 40 of the damn Greek cookies started with me carefully gathering and measuring all of the ingredients according to your recipe:

The first thing I did was cream the butter and sugar together, and I even made sure that the butter sat out until it was room temperature:

Then I added the stupid dozen egg yolks, one at a time...and they were room temperature too:

Then, I put the baking powder into the orange juice so it would foam up and added the vanilla, and I didn't panic when it looked like scrambled eggs, because one of the nice Greek ladies on the YouTubes said it would look like scrambled eggs:

And then...because I'm older and wiser now and this is the 40th time I've tried to make the damn Greek cookies, I SPLIT THE BATCH IN TWO so it wouldn't be so hard to mix! 

This is where I really think you're screwing with me, Mom. Not matter how much I mixed, not matter how much Swan's Down Cake Flour I used, and no matter how many times I tried to just calm down and take my time...whether with the big mixer or when I gave up and tried it by hand after soaking my hands in ice water for ten minutes...

The damn Greek cookie dough is...S.T.I.C.K.Y.

If Rich knew how to spackle (or even what spackle was), he could adhere granite tiles to the side of a building with this stuff.  You'll notice that there is a good amount of it stuck to the bowl? Well, it lives there permanently now, and if I ever get the energy to lift this out of the fridge, I would be better off just chucking the whole damn thing in the dumpster (assuming I can find a forklift to get it down there) and buying a new one on the amazons.

David wrote to me a few weeks ago to tell me that Aunt Mary passed away sometime in October, so I'm sure that you and Aunt JoAnn and now Aunt Mary are up there just laughing your heads off, and Grandma is probably saying "Oh, poor Connie Dough. Why do you suppose she does this every year?"

And then a tiny little voice pipes up from the background "Because they are delicious, Great Grandmother Josephine, but she's just not bright enough to use a different recipe".

I know that you love me and are watching out for the important stuff like labwork and helping me learn how to be a good 1950's housewife, but could you also take pity on me and send a YaiYai over to show me once and for all how to make these damn things?

Please give Dad a kiss for me and tell him not to give Bosco too many Snyder's hard pretzels today while watching football. I love you, Mom.  Merry Christmas!

EDITED TO ADD:

Eleventy-seven hours later, and the first two dozen are out of the oven. 😖 This didn't make a dent in the vat of dough and I'm pretty sure I have another ten dozen to go before hitting the bottom of the bowl. 😮

No, Betty, I cannot cut the recipe in half and only end up with 60 or 70 cookies instead of the 130-140 that will finally come out of my cold dead hands. If I did that, I would have nothing to complain about, would probably have great ease and success, and you wouldn't have to read about me sweating through my big girl sports bra to create SPACKLE.

Tradition, Betty. Tradition.

 

 

 

LITTLE VIEWS THAT MAKE ME STUPIDLY HAPPY ON A SNOWY SATURDAY WHILE THE LAUNDRY IS SPLOSHING

 

IN WHICH WE FULFILL A HANKERING

 

I have been in such a deep schlumpadink lately, but I'm happy to report that I finally glimpsed a teeny tiny speck of light at the end of a very long and dark fatigue tunnel. I thought it might be thyroid or meds, but apparently it's just me. 

(Can we blame it on the time-change still? Or has that ship sailed?)

A new start tonight while my Lady Irish play the basketball against Moorehead State. Rich is doing his ushering thing, which means I can hit the mute button on the TeeVee and enjoy silence whilst getting threads sorted and the first stitches in.

(Is it just me, or do men listen to the sporting thing REALLY REALLY LOUD?) Sometimes I like to just have a bit of quiet to allow my tiny little brain a moment to stop spinning around inside my pointy little head and settle down.

(Thus...the joy of silence.)

So I'm going to play with this one for a bit to satisfy my cross stitch itch. I am stitching this on a beautiful piece of 28ct Platinum Cashel, so the threads are slipping through like butta'.

It won't be long for me tonight, Dearies. I was up at the crack of dawn to take my Jersey Boy to the dentist for his third consultation on what to do about his poor teeth. Because of the level of terror he experiences at all things medical and dental, he has neglected things to the level of catastrophe, so it looks like major surgery and appliances will be required. He'll start on December 30th with extractions, and then after a few months of healing time, he'll get fitted for some fancy new partials.

As much as I wanted to tease him and tell him that it was easier to get Stewey to brush his teeth and go for regular checkups than it is to get a 6'2" man into his shoes and socks and to a doctor, the look in his eyes made me feel so sorry for him that I stopped for breakfast sandwiches on the way home instead.

He's a trooper, though, and I know if I am gentle and kind and loving he'll be fine.

(I cannot promise, however, that copious amounts of sedatives will not be consumed in the process.)

But in the meantime, there's lots of stitching to be done and hopefully some baking of things to be enjoyed in the next few weeks. I am going to try the damn Greek cookies again this year, but thanks to several YouTube videos, methinks we might not end of with dough that could spackle the bathtub!

What's new in your little corner of the world? Are you lighting and tinsleing and twinkling your heart out? We're half-ass decorated, which I think will be just fine. The tree is up and lit (but ball-less), and the little village has its little self all aglow on the front hall table, so I'm content. 

Happy Thursday! Cheers to a lovely cozy stitchy weekend!

A TINY BIT OF PHOOEY

I'm making pretty good progress on LJP's Christmas Ribbons!  Instead of working randomly from the lower right corner, I decided to reference the chart and work on finishing complete ribbons.

The one with the green wreaths was going great until it came time to add red ribbons to the tops of each wreath. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get them to look quite right. I tried and tried and tried, but gave up and had a little tizzy and put myself to bed.

And then, in a stroke of genius, I opened up the amazons and searched for tiny little red wreath buttons. Not only did they have them, they had the perfect size! 6mm! Right there on the amazons!

So I paid my six dollars (or thereabouts) and then waited for them to get delivered.

Crap. 

Perfect size, but wrong color. 

So do I try to find red ones? Break out the red nail polish? Forget about them until I'm finished?

How can something so tiny make such a big difference?

OK...back to stitching!  What's driving you nuts tonight, Dearies? Come tell me all about it!

 

FRIDAY

 

HELLO DECEMBER!