MY BAGS ARE PACKED....IT'S TIME TO GO....

Spinster's note: This post was written by Madame Muriel Flossie Flat Grandma as a farewell to Hoosierville. It's a picture-heavy post, but gives a rather sweet snapshot of some of the life and sights here. She hopes you enjoy!
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Well, it looks like it's time for me to travel on to my next destination. Despite a rather ignominious start, and in spite of the smoking jacket wearing talking dog and the idiot spinster, I've had a lovely time of it here in this little part of the world. (Thank God for Aunt Chrissy!). Before I enter my traveling compartment, though, I thought I'd leave you with a few pictures of some of the places that I visited.

The spinster did manage to go to college at the University of Notre Dame. Yes, I will confess to being skeptical about this fact, but once we arrived on campus, I forgot about her and just enjoyed the spectacular architecture. After illegally parking in the Main Circle, a local celebrity introduced himself and then acted as my tour guide. Isn't he handsome?

The long entrance to the university is really quite pretty, and I can imagine that the autumnal colors on all of this foliage would be gorgeous to behold.


The Golden Dome is lovely, and as I understand it, the woman perched on the top of it is the Blessed Virgin Mary. (The spinster calls her the BVM.) And no, just in case you were wondering...I did NOT attempt a climb to the top, despite the urgings of my hostess after one too many dietCokes.

This handsome fellow is on the corner of a mens' dormitory:

And this is a nice example of the gothic style of architecture that permeates the entire campus:

Here's a better shot of that dormitory. Can you imagine living in such a place?

There are hundreds of other beautiful sights to see on the campus of Notre Dame. I know that the spinster is particularly attached to the Grotto, and I would imagine that we could have spent a few days there snapping away. If you'd like to see more, go to: http://www.tour.nd.edu/
to see what all of the fuss is about.

After saying goodbye to the leprechaun (who doesn't have a name, by the way), we headed down US31/933 to downtown South Bend. It's about a five minute drive from the campus. Here's a link to learn more about the town itself: http://www.downtownsouthbend.com/.

The building shown here houses the South Bend Civic Theater. The spinster's never been, of course, because she never seems to leave her house, but it is on the long list of things that she would eventually like to see with Aunt Chrissy. Again, another link for you: http://www.sbct.org/.


Naturally, the very first stop was food related. Here's the South Bend Chocolate Company:

Just next to it is the building that will eventually house the Official Stitcher's Hall of Fame and Other Nice Things To Do On A Saturday Afternoon. At least that's what I heard the spinster tell Aunt Chrissy she wishes it would be. Apparently it is now the College Football Hall of Fame, but within a few months that will be relocating to Atlanta (or some such place), and this entire area will be vacant. The Marriott Hotel in the background is also for sale, so I would imagine that the spinster has some cockamamie idea as to how to include that in a "Stitchers' Complex of Fun and Activity" once she comes up with the four million bucks it will take to buy the place.

Finally....some history! This is Tippecanoe Place (http://www.tippe.com/), the former home of Clement Studebaker. It is now one of the more famous restaurants in the area. A few blocks to the west of it is the Center for History, but the idiot spinster forgot to take me there.

The Morris Performing Arts Center is a gorgeous theatre that was completely renovated and is now considered to be one of the top event venues in the country. http://www.morriscenter.org/ See the three windows to the left? That's the Palais Royale ballroom and was the scene of many a Notre Dame formal ball back in the 50's when the spinster's dad was at Notre Dame.


No visit to South Bend would be complete without a mention of the St. Joe river. Oddly enough, it flows south to north and empties into Lake Michigan some 60 miles away. The East Race Waterway is particularly interesting and is where kayakers from all over the world come to practice and compete. (Don't expect to see the spinster in a kayak any time soon. I don't think they make them that big.) The building to the right is the Century Center and the South Bend Museum of Art and that pavilion is a great place to listen to live music on a summer Friday night. (If the spinster ever left her house, that is.)

I would be remiss to mention that although the focus of this area is usually on Notre Dame and South Bend, the little city of Mishawaka also has a lot to offer. Mishawaka, the Princess City, is about two minutes east of South Bend and is home to both the Spinster Stitcher and Aunt Chrissy. It's often overlooked, but I can promise you that there is a lot to see/eat/do/and shop here. This is Robert C. Beutter Riverfront Park, and if I understood correctly, will now be the location of early morning walks by the SS and AC. (Yeah, I know. We'll all believe that when we see it, right?) If you'd like to learn more about Mishawaka, go to: http://www.mishawaka.in.gov/.


Well, that about wraps it up from here. Now if I might have a drum roll, please. The official drawing of the next hostess's name was conducted last evening under the supervision of the accounting firm of Dewey, Cheatum, and Howe. We forgot to take photographic evidence, so you'll just have to trust me. Ready?

I'm going to New Zealand! (Cue the dramatic Oprah-esque music now). Madame Margaret Stedman has agreed to show me about, and I just couldn't be more thrilled! Margaret, if you would be so kind as to confirm all of your mailing details with the Spinster Stitcher, I'll make sure that she purchases the necessary travel tickets. We'll also need your blog address so that all of the curious stitchers out there can follow my exploits.

Until I see you again....a fond adieu! I'm really enjoying this romp around the world, and I hope you're enjoying it right along with me!

Fondly,
Muriel

FUTZUS CONTINUOUS

The sun is shining...

The squirrels are feasting...
The Spinster is stitching... And Stewey is mending...

Madame Muriel Flossie Flat Grandma is packing today. Destination to be revealed tomorrow! Stay tuned!

MADAME AMBASSADOR, I PRESUME

Please forgive the delay in sending Madame Muriel on to her next unsuspecting victim. (Um, I mean hostess.) I was all ready to stuff her into an envelope (um, I mean, carefully package her in her traveling compartment), when Aunt Chrissy pointed a few things out to me.

"You know", she said as nicely as she could given the circumstances of having to put up with me (and my little dog too) on a daily basis, "People are going to think that the only thing that this part of the state of Indiana has to offer is spoiled rotten little dogs in smoking jackets, sushi restaurants, and a Michael's. That's rather unfair, don't you think, especially in light of all of the negative publicity that South Bend has been getting about being such a crappy place to live."

I did what I always do in these situations. I hung my head in shame and promised to get my proverbial act together and just go out of the damn house already for something other than newspaper retrieval or a Target visit. I decided to really go show Madame Flat Flossie Her Very Self the sights around these here parts.

And then it got hot and humid.

I mean hot and humid enough that when I took Stewey outside for a constitutional, he asked me if we had moved to some sub-tropical place in the middle of the night and whether or not I had appropriately altered my Clinique three-step to reflect the changes in the atmosphere.

So visiting attractions and photographing them and writing about them has been ceremoniously pushed to the big fat back burner with hopes that Aunt Chrissy and I will be able to spend a few minutes on Saturday tooling around with Muriel stuffed into the Vera. (Um, I mean, with Muriel happily along for company.)

As final evidence of this, you will be happy to know that I called the South Bend Chamber of Commerce today and asked the seven year old intern who answered the phone in the Convention and Visitor's Bureau if she would be kind enough to send me a guide. We'll see what comes.

On the stitchy front, progress continues on Stars. I finished up the Ava Gardner block after several nights of extreme angst, but seem to be plowing through Marlon Brando lickety split:

I am still enjoying this piece immensely, and hope that the final result will thrill me as much as the stitching of it has. And may I just send you all a very big and very teary (and somewhat sweaty) THANK YOU for all of the encouragement and lovely comments that you've sent my way about this one? I can hear you out there cheering me on to the finish line. Woo Hoo!

That's all for now. I really should go see what Stewey is up to. His back is feeling a little better, I think, but he and I are having some really really bad "getting along" issues. If I can get him out from under the big girl sleigh bed, I think I need to issue an apology and kiss him a few times on his little nose. He is, after all, my Stewey Little, and I need to keep reminding myself that life without him would not be worth living.

A SUNDAY AFTERNOON POST BY MADAME FLAT GRANDMA FLOSSIE, HER VERY LITTLE SELF

I can't tell you how ready I am to get the hell outta here. I've been to some pretty interesting places in my life, but this Funny Farm needs to have a sign at its entrance that says "Beware all who enter here."

It all started when the little spinster (we'll call her Spinster Minimus) called the big spinster (that would be Spinster Maximus), and said "Put your shoes on and get those quakers out of the fuppy box. I've got a 70% off coupon at the Michaels' and I want to go get them framed".

To which Maximus replied "Well, um, er, I gee...I hadn't planned on getting those framed right away. And besides, it's all hot a icky out and Flat Flossie and I were just getting ready to sit down and go through all of my scrapbooks and memory boxes and photographs from my grade school career."

Thanks be to God above, Her Very Self, the little one showed up ten minutes later.

"Get in the car. We're getting this done today so that when you drop dead I can hang them in my living room. Is the doll going with us?"

At first, I will admit that I was rather offended, but then I considered the fact that this poor woman has a crazy spinster sister and a little talking dog wearing a smoking jacket to contend with. It's any wonder she's not more in her cups.

We headed out for the Michaels, but what should have taken a half hour turned into an all day event. My goodness, but these two like to run their errands! Our first stop was the medical lab for some bloodwork, and then it was off to McDonald's for an early lunch. (I had a salad. They did not.) After a quick run into Wal Mart for contact lenses, we were finally ready to pull into the Michaels' parking lot:
No, I didn't ride on top of the car, but I can tell you that I definitely would have preferred it to the chitter chatter and old lady driving habits that I had to endure from the back seat.

Once inside, we spent several hours in the framing department. OK. So maybe it wasn't several hours, but after ten minutes of Maximus telling the framing person "Oh, I just don't know about this. Can I see that one again? What do you think?", I was ready to head to the tool section for an exacto knife to slit my wrists.

Minimus finally made the selection and I think she chose well. From what I gather, these will hang in the dining room of the big one's house until such time as she croaks, and then they'll hang in the living room of the little one's house. Needless to say, the framing selection was suitable for both locations.

We returned home in time to give the little dog his medicine and then watch him stumble around before falling into a nice deep nap. He sprained his neck this week, and after a few (well several, actually) frantic trips to the vet, he was prescribed pain meds, an anti-inflammatory, and the order of bed rest. He does, however, seem to cope well with this, since his little fort is stocked with cable, an iPad, and all the tea and peanut butter toast he could ask for. When I went in to check on him earlier, I noticed that he also sports some 900-count Egyptian cotton sheets, so methinks the Spinster should rethink the 200-count set that she's got in the guest room.

I'm just saying.

So I'm ready to travel, folks, and cannot wait to find out what my next destination will be. I understand that there will be a ceremonial choosing from the magic can of destiny later this afternoon. If I understood correctly, it looks like there were over 70 of you willing to take me on.

Thanks for listening. I hope that you've had a pleasant weekend and that we'll see each other again soon!

With kindest wishes,
Muriel

STILL REACHING...AND FLAT FLOSSIE IS READY TO ROCK AND ROLL!!!

Another block down...seven to go!

Madame Flat Flossie is ready to start packing! If you would like to host (or hostess her), please shoot me an email to spinsterstitcher@aol.com. I'll put all of the names into a hat (or possibly an old sock), and then pull the winning entry sometime over the weekend.

Gee, I guess that means that the deadline to enter would be Friday, midnight.

(Some restrictions apply. Consult your physician for an e.... whoops! Nope. Not going to go there.)

Hostessing (or hosting) means that you agree to show Madame Flossie a good time, take a few snaps of her visit, blog a bit about it, help her write about her adventures in her Passport, and then send her on to the next destination with a few postcards and a small (yet lovely) little something for the next unsuspecting victim (er, I mean, stitcher). It's a blast, I swear, and you will really enjoy running here and there with a tiny little "person" as your constant companion.

(If I had a nickle for every time somebody came up to me in the Targets and said "What the hell is THAT hanging out of your Vera?, I'd be in Turks and Caicos by now.)

REACH FOR THE STARS!

Good thing I took this totally craptastic picture. I see now that I've missed an entire portion of one of the gold bits. Sigh.

A MONDAY MORNING CONVERSATION WITH MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP, HIS VERY LITTLE SELF

For purposes of demonstration, Master Stewey Angus Willowswamp, His Very Little Self would like to enter the following as Exhibit A:







STEWEY: Mo-ther, you have received several emails in your Spinster Stitcher account, and one in particular has me extremely upset.

MO-THER: (grumble grumble grumble as she wipes up coffeemaker pee from the kitchen counter)

STEWEY: For some reason, several of your stitchy friends think the video entitled "Teasing Your Dog" is quite hilarious and that both you and I would think it cute. I do not.

MO-THER: For cripe's sakes, Stewey. I haven't even had coffee yet and you're already embroiled in a mini drama? How the hell does this happen so early on a Monday morning?

STEWEY: What do you suppose the reaction would be if I were to film a little video of my own and then post it on YouTube so as to create a viral situation?

MO-THER: (not paying any attention to the little dog dressed in a silk smoking jacket, glasses perched at the tip of his nose, paw tapping impatiently)

STEWEY: Imagine if you will.....
SCENE: A modest living room somewhere in the Midwestern United States of America. Framed fully is the face of a somewhat unattractive, yet somehow lovable middle aged spinster. A voice is heard off camera...

VOICE: So I went into a needlework shop.

(The spinster's face tilts, eyes wide with interest as the voice continues).

VOICE: And I got a big basket the size of a Buick.

SPINSTER: So what did you do with the basket?

VOICE: I filled it to the brim with charts and canvases and threads and organizers and scissors and linens and magnets and q-snaps and stretcher bars and hand lotions and magazines and ort jars.

SPINSTER: Oh my gosh! How many things do you think you were able to put into your basket?

VOICE: Oh, thousands. The basket was so big that I had to move it out to the parking lot and then I called for help in filling it up. No matter how much stuff I put in there, it never got full and I just had to keep adding more and more and more.

SPINSTER: OH MY GOSH! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THE BASKET!

VOICE: Well, once I got everything that I wanted, I pulled out a magic credit card and paid for it.

SPINSTER: A MAGIC CREDIT CARD?!!! WHY WAS IT MAGIC?!!!

VOICE: Well, it's magic because not matter how much needlework you put on it, it never reaches a limit.

SPINSTER: You're kidding!

VOICE: No, and when the monthly statement comes, the balance is zero, so you never have to make a payment and you can just keep shopping and shopping and shopping.

SPINSTER: Yeah? (Her ears lay flat against her head and she anxiously gazes into the camera.) So after you bought all of that stuff, what happened next?

VOICE: I woke up.

SPINSTER: WAAAAAAAAAA!

STEWEY: So what do you think of THAT little scenario, Mo-ther? How would you and all of these stitchers that are sending you this thing feel about THAT? Huh?

MO-THER: (not paying any attention at all to the little dog while munching peanut butter toast and trying to figure out the Jumble) Sounds great, honey. Whatever you want. Blah blah blah....

The little dog stomps off in a huff to go pee on the drapes.

So a very big fat smiley THANK YOU to all of you who have sent that video to me. I, for one, think it's pretty darn cute and am determined to find a way to play it on the big TeeVee in an endless loop until you-know-who submits to my every whim. I'm concerned, though, that paybacks might be hell, so I better go hide his iPad.

Damn dog.

A QUICK PIC IN BETWEEN THUNDERSTORMS

Le Printemps

Birds of a Feather

28ct. Platinum linen

WDW, GA, and Impressions

Just a quickie today. All h-e-double-toothpicks has been breaking loose since about 1 o'clock in the morning, so I figured I'd come out of the bunker long enough to show you a little stitchy progress. I thought I would be stitching the summer portion of this series by now, but alas, it is not to be. I'm determined to get this one finished first.

Yup. Trying to do a "Finish two, start something new" routine this summer. Think that will get that WIP list down to double digits?

A POST FROM MADAME FLAT GRANDMA, HER VERY SELF

Hi, all! I've finally found a few moments to myself, so I thought I'd drop a quick post about my adventures here in Hoosierville thus far. (Between us chickens, though, the woman who lives in this dump is pretty nuts, so if I have to go suddenly, it's because she's come up with some cockamamie scheme for an afternoon activity and I need to go pretend that I'm napping.)

My arrival started out well enough. I was shown to the guest room and left to my own devices for a pleasant night's rest. I had expected to be greeted by the dog, but apparently he had another engagement, so he left a note of apology with some artisanal chocolates on my pillow.

(I was pretty sure that this was a harbinger of interesting things to come.)

The Spinster Stitcher is, in fact, an idiot. She seems to be completely clueless as to what constitutes proper hostessing duties, and she insists on calling me Millicent, even though that's not my name. My first few days here were spent listening to the vacuum cleaner and running errands with her sister. (You would think that the Mishawaka Target was Mecca the way these two planned their trip there.) It was almost more than I could take.

After being stuffed into a Vera, I was stuck in the car for what seemed like weeks as we drove from place to place....picking up God knows what and then checking things off of lists. (That seems to be a very big past time here.) By the end of the first day I was ready to chuck myself out of the passenger side window, Vera and all.

Finally, a bit of mercy came my way when I heard the pitter patter of little dog feet coming down the hallway.

"Excuse me, Madame. Might I present myself to you? My name is Master Stewey Angus Willowswamp, My Very Little Self, and I would like to apologize that I have been thus far delayed in welcoming you to our little abode. Duties called me out of the country for a few days, and I've just returned. Won't you please allow me to present my calling card?"

With that, he reached into the pocket of his little silk smoking jacket and pulled out an engraved name card.

(And yes, in case you're wondering, I've fallen down the freakin rabbit hole here and am now stuck in some kind of Alice in SpinsterLand hell. Between the 300-pound hummingbird flitting around and the talking dog wearing a smoking jacket, I'm starting to question my mental state.)

After chatting for a bit and having a nightcap (a delightful little sherry from the Basque region, thank you very much), we decided that we would leave the Spinster to do whatever the hell it is that she does and go out on our own for bit the following day.

The dog has a pretty sweet set up around here, I must say. He awakens at 10:30 am to the soothing sounds of a pan flute, and, weather permitting, has brunch on the patio. Amazingly enough, he reads several newspapers cover to cover and then he retires to his boudoir for his morning toilette. By about 4 or so in the afternoon, he's ready to go.

Getting the car out of the driveway without the Spinster seeing us would have been a problem, were it not for the fact that she was planted in front of her computer monitor, drooling over stitching blogs. Her eyes were rather glazed over and she was muttering to herself, so I'm pretty sure that we could have detonated a bomb in the joint and she wouldn't have moved an inch.

Yes, it's true that we had a little fun at her expense getting out of the neighborhood, but before you think us reckless, may I just point out that the dog has a driver? He's a rather large burly man dressed all in black and wearing an ear piece. When I asked him for his name, and he said "Please call me Number Seven", and then promptly whispered something into his shirt cuff. Very mysterious indeed.

After settling in, we were off. Safety first!:

We drove a few miles to a lovely shopping center called Heritage Square. This is a rather new area of Granger, Indiana, and it promises to be quite a beautiful outdoor marketplace once it's fully stocked with shops and restaurants and such. (I did notice, though, that they are in desperate need of a needlework shop.)

The car pulled up in front of SoHo Japanese Bistro, and before I knew it, there was a crew of about ten people opening doors, rolling out red carpets, and practically genuflecting.

"Mr. Willowswamp. How very nice to see you this evening, sir. Your usual table?"

With that we were lead inside to a wonderful booth, and within seconds huge platters of sushi, appetizers, and all sorts of delicacies were set before us.

(You'll notice that I never once abandoned my stitching. How's THAT for dedication?)

I wasn't too sure what everything was, but with a few minutes of instruction from the dog I was off and running and enjoyed one of the best meals I've had in a very long time.

And then it was time for....sake.

I've never had sake before, so I had no idea what to expect. I seemed fine, I really did, but when I tried to stand up to go to the ladies room everything went sideways and I almost landed face first in the koi pond. Wow. Talk about packing a punch!

(I have absolutely no recollection of posing for that picture.)

The next several hours are a bit of a blur, but I am happy to report that Number Seven executed his duties without incident and we made it home safe and sound. I think, though, that we made several other stops after the restaurant, but every time I ask the little dog about it, he just giggles and says "Oh, I can't wait until the photographs are ready".

(I've since learned that there is a team of photographers that follows the little dog's every move, so once the legal team has looked at them and authorized them for publication, I guess I'm going to see just what the heck I did.)

All I know is that I enjoyed myself tremendously and awoke this morning with what can only be described as the Mother of all Hangovers. I mean it. Those guys in the movie have NOTHING on me, and as soon as the floor stops spinning around, I intend to start looking for the nearest Marriott.

I did manage, though, to get Number Seven to drive me back to Target a while ago for some medicine:

The Spinster tells me that we are going to visit the Studebaker Museum and Notre Dame this weekend. She also tells me that she'd like for me to see a little bit of Amish Country, so we might head over to the Shipshewana and Nappanee area for a few hours.

I just hope I don't throw up in the Vera.

I'll write more as my adventures continue. For now, thanks for sticking with me this long, and please come back again soon!

(God knows I'm going to need witnesses).

GRRRR.....

I'm mean as a snake and twice as ugly today. I know that it is directly related to our weather, which has given me a new appreciation for the fact that I simply do not "do" outdoors. The temperature is approximately the same as that of the west side of the sun and the humidity is enough to make a girl want to take her top off in public. Ugh.

To make matters worse, I awoke to the sounds of the car being pulled out of the driveway, and before I knew it I was watching Stewey and Flat Grandma burn rubber down the street while simultaneously flipping me off. How the two of them managed to get their hands out of the sun roof while steering said vehicle is completely beyond me, but my brain is too foggy to even care at this point.

I did manage to put a few stitches into Stars last night before falling face first into the New Jersey Housewives and Nurse Jackie. I can't decide if all of this ennui is the result of the heat or the TeeVee selections, but I can tell you that my stitchy speed has definitely crawled to a...well...a crawl.

Aunt Chrissy and I have a date tonight! We're going out to dinner with her neighbor, Mr. Joe. It has been a little over two months since Miss Linda's passing, and he seems to be doing OK, but Aunt Chrissy likes to fuss over him like a little hen. He is such a nice man and is little Bosco's very best buddy, so this will be a treat. I just hope he isn't one for wanting to dine outside.

So phooey on me today. I'm headed back to the Happy Chair with some ice and a big fat novel. I'm about 3/4 of the way through Pillars of the Earth, so I suppose that today would be a good day to see if they ever get this freakin cathedral built.

If Stewey and Flat Grandma ever return, I'll be sure to update you with tales of their travels. If you don't hear from me, please be on the lookout for a nine pound Jack Russell terrier wearing a silk smoking jacket and a tiny little doll wearing a granny cap at a bar near you. Knowing Stewey, they are probably knee deep in tapas and an impertinent little chardonnay by now, so this should be interesting.

OH FOR THE LOVE OF......

Tomorrow is the three year anniversary of this here blog. You would think that after three years I would have figured out how to use this silly machine, but alas, I remain....an eegit.

Let me very firstlymost apologize for that stupid type font on the bright orange background. The only good news is that I, too, got a screaming headache as I squinted my way through trying to read all of my drivel, so you weren't alone in your pain. I think I might have fixed it with this new font, but I am always open to feedback.

Madame Flat Grandma has decided that running errands with Aunt Chrissy and I is not exactly what she had hoped her vacation to be, so we are re-shuffling the decks around here trying to find suitable things to do. We will be visiting local attractions in the coming days, but it might take awhile to get my proverbial head out of my proverbial heiney, so to speak. So there won't be any fascinating updates tomorrow in the event that you were setting your alarm clocks or anything. Instead, FG has taken herself up to the studio with a cold beverage, and asked not to be disturbed until Wednesday (or thereabouts). Please stay tuned.

Stewey send his love and affection. We had a rather amusing incident moments ago as the Boston fern decided to pee about seven gallons of water all over the hardwood. I stood there with the empty watering can, gawping in amazement as the torrent of water poured down, and I swear I heard Stewey giggling behind his little paw. As I stomped off to the garage for the mop and bucket I also caught him congratulating Louie (that's the name of the fern, don't you know) for doing the one thing that REALLY torks my pajamas on a Sunday morning. Damn dog.

Here's hoping that YOUR Sunday is off to a better start than ours and that you're doing whatever it is that you most want to do!

LET'S HOPE SHE DOESN'T COMPLETELY SCREW THIS UP *****EDITED*****

My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's too busy running around the house hollering "Snacks! I forgot to get suitable snacks for the cocktail hour!".

At precisely 3:47pm yesterday afternoon our house guest arrived. Ms. Muriel Arlene Myrtle Ethel Adeline "Flat Flossie" St. Clair, Her Very Self was unceremoniously dumped on the front porch by the postman. (I can only assume that he was surly because of the heat and humidity, because he is otherwise a very nice fellow.)

Mo-ther brought her into the house, introduced us all around, and then showed her to the guest room for a little rest and refreshment:I was told to "Leave her alone, and don't even think about doing you-know-what on her fancy traveling dress", so I gave her a few good sniffs and then headed to my perch.

Both Mo-ther and Aunt Chrissy are determined to show Ms. St. Clair a good time this weekend, but I'm concerned that, when left to their own devices, the hostesses will not be able to come up with anything suitable for our visitor. I've been clipping articles for weeks about some of the local events that will happen here in Hoosierville, but methinks that the Target is about as far as we can expect these girls to travel.

Updates on Monday, we promise. In the meantime, Mo-ther has asked me to send her most very heartfelt THANK YOU for all of your lovely comments regarding her recent Happy Dance. It really is very pretty in real life, so I'm hoping she gets this one framed and up on the wall soon!

Have a splendid weekend, and if you have house guests, please don't forget the snacks for the cocktail hour!

With love from your pal,
Stewey


****For more information about the genesis of Flat Grandma and how she came to be visiting my guest room, go to http://www.stitchbitch.blogspot.com/ and read through the posts tagged "Flat Grandma". Or, if you're like me and haven't one damn clue how to do that, look at the posts dated April 22 and April 26.

SPRING QUAKER FEE NEE

Spring Quakers

Rosewood Manor

28ct. Valor by Picture This Plus

Valdani 3-strand floss

ONLY FOUR MORE TO GO!!

Forgive me, please. I am in the home stretch of Spring Quakers and have only four more flower names to go. I'd like to finish this today, and despite my very best attempts, I have not yet figured out how to stitch and read this here silly machine at the same time.

Until tomorrow, moan amees!

I COULD HAVE THRIVED WITH A SMARTER OWNER

My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's lying outside in the middle of the lawn muttering something about moving to a dee-luxe apartment in the sky-eye-eye.

We never should have gotten out of the big girl sleigh bed this morning. It all started when I was rudely disturbed from my sweet puppy dreams by the sound of semi trucks pulling up in front of the house. Mo-ther didn't budge an inch, but I immediately jumped off of the bed, ran to the front door, barked my little fool head off, and peed on the rug for good measure.

It would appear that we are getting new neighbors today and that they have a lot of furniture and things. They also have four huge dogs.

Trust me when I tell you that I am not at all amused.

I tried to get the old lady out of the bed so that I could have proper Friday breakfast, but she just kept saying "Mommie isn't finished sleeping yet, Stewey. What don't you go watch the Today Show or something."

As if.

She knows that I only watch things that are intellectually or culturally stimulating. As a matter of fact, with all of my free time this morning, I programmed the remote control to only click on those channels that I deem appropriate for viewing by someone with my discriminating taste.

We'll see how long she lasts without her New Jersey Housewives and her incessant need to re-watch the Sex And The City II movie to see if it gets any better.

It doesn't.

After I poured a few cups of coffee down her throat, she stuffed herself into sweatpants and an old Notre Dame t-shirt and went outside to plant the garden:Looks like we're going to have tomatoes, cucumbers, red peppers, purple peppers, banana peppers, hot peppers, Brussels sprouts, broccoli, and cauliflower. (Yes, this is the part where we all look at one another and say "There's no way all of that crap is going to grow in that little space"), but I'm going to let her figure it out as she goes along.

We'll just call it a learning experience.

Things were starting to look up for the day, but then Mo-ther came inside to discover that I had peed on almost every single thing in the house. Surprisingly, she just stood there in disbelief and then headed straight for the liquor cabinet.

I figure if she passes out, I'll call my Aunt Chrissy and then head over there for a little pizza and movie night with she and Bosco.

On the stitchy front, I know that Mommie Dearest is determined to finish Spring Quakers this weekend so that she can work on Stars on Memorial Day. It's supposed to be beautiful for two of the three days this weekend, so methinks we might even manage to do a little outside stitching for the first time this year!

I hope that y'all have a splendid time of it, wherever you may be. Please don't fret about my Mo-ther Dear. She'll be fine and back to her perky little self as soon as I draw her a hot bath and pour her a little Tylenol cocktail.

Happy Memorial Day!

With love from your pal,
Stewey

FUTZUS INTERRUPTUS

My Aunt CJ can't come to the blog right now. She's locked in her "special room" with a bottle of wine and the latest issue of Needlepoint Now. Looks like she might be in there a while, since I just heard the water go on in the bathtub. All I have to say to that is....better her than me.

Hi there. My name is Bosco Oliver Willowswamp. I'm a five and a half year old Shorty Jack Russell Terrier, and I live here in Hoosierville with my Mom. (I think you all know her as Aunt Chrissy.) I'm visiting with my Aunt CJ today (the Spinster Stitcher), because she felt really sorry for me and also because it's storming outside.

Why does she feel sorry for me, you ask? Well, I peed in the house yesterday, so when Mom came home from work there was a lot of hollering and stomping around and before I knew it I was back in Potty Training Bootcamp 101 (otherwise known as being confined to my apartment during the day while Mom is at work). This seemed to make my Aunt CJ upset for some reason, so as soon as she saw Mom leave for work today, she came in and picked me up and we went out for McDonald's breakfast.

I love my Aunt CJ because she takes me for rides on Wednesdays. We usually start at McDonald's, where we order a Happy Meal, and then it's off to Starbucks for a double shot latte. All of the ladies at the McDonald's and Starbucks know me by now, so whenever they see me coming, they say "Look! It's Bosco and that crazy lady coming for their Wednesday date!"

That seems to make Aunt CJ happy, because she just grins and grins and then tells them all about our special bond and how I am so much fun to play with because I know I'm a little dog (as opposed to Stewey, who thinks he's King High Exhalted of the Universe), and I don't expect her to know too much.

She's never said it out loud, but I think that my Aunt CJ gets very very lonely for companionship. Between me and you, she's not very smart sometimes, and it seems like my mom and Stewey are always making fun of her for something silly that she's done. As for me, I like her simple-ness, because it means that I can just play and have fun and not have to discuss anything serious like the state of economic affairs in the world or the impact of global warming and its relative effect on the planet's weather.

Sometimes she comes over to visit with me just because she needs a break from Stewey. I really feel bad for her on these days, so we just play and have fun and try not to break anything important so that when my mom gets home we won't get grounded or put into time out. (My Aunt CJ and I can get in a lot of trouble together.)

I love my Mom, I really do, but she's very calm and disciplined and strict. We have a very sensible routine and I know that I am not the alpha male pack leader in our house. I have chores to do each day and rules to follow and if I don't there are consequences. If I pee on something I'm not supposed to, my mom shakes her finger at me and I feel bad. If she tells me to do something, I know that I better do it or she'll give me a stern lecture. She's a lot of fun and we cuddle a lot and play together and hang out, but she's definitely de boss and i's definitely de bossee.

My Aunt CJ and Stewey seem to have a different relationship. He has NO rules and does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He wears this little silk smoking jacket around the house all day, and if his perch or toys get "mussed" he throws a holy hell nervous fit until my Aunt CJ runs in to fix everything and then she gives him a treat for being so sensitive. When he misbehaves, he gets therapy. When I misbehave, I get to go sit in the corner and think about what I've done.

Stewey doesn't like me very much, but that's OK. My Aunt CJ makes me feel better by making me peanut butter toast and letting me take a sip of her coffee. I love coffee. And dietCoke. And anything else that's in the cup next to the stitchy chair.

My favorite thing to do is play rocks with my best friend, Mr. Joe. Mom has these rocks in her flower beds and I like to play fetch with them. Mr. Joe is our next door neighbor, and he comes outside to have coffee sometimes, and he and I play until Mom hollers that it's time to come in. If I'm not outside playing, then Mom and I watch the birds and squirrels and bunnies and other things out in the back yard. She made a special place for me under her stitchy table, so I can go under there and look out the back door to my heart's content.

All in all, I would have to say that I've got it pretty good. Every now and then my mom will decide that she's going to lay down the law (like today when she put me in my potty training cage while she went to work), but one call to my Aunt CJ and I'm back in the saddle. If I could just get Stewey to like me a little bit, I'm sure we could have a lot of fun together, but the last time I tried to play with him he said "You're so boor-szwa" and then he went back into his fort with the newspaper. I guess we just don't have anything in common.

I hope that gives you a little more insight into life here with my aunt, and Stewey, and my mom. I'm not allowed to use the computer by myself at home, but Stewey told me if I paid him enough money, he would consider being my amanuensis (whatever that means).

Thanks for stopping by. I'm going to go check on my Aunt CJ now.

Sincerely,
Bosco

VIEWER MAIL

I'm limping around the house today, so the thought of getting up off of my big fat heiney to go find the camera so that I can take a craptasic picture of the three stitches I put into Spring Quakers seems just too much to bear (she says dramatically while throwing her arm across her furrowed brow).

Truth be told, I'm actually fine. Just a tab bit sore from hauling all of the vegetables out to the driveway to water them, and then after standing there for fifteen minutes fretting, hauling them all back into said garage where they will stay until I can go to the Lowe's to buy some of that pepper stuff to prevent the bunnies and raccoons and deer and whatever the heck else is out there in the back forty from eating everything before Aunt Chrissy and I can harvest it and have a farm fresh summer salad on the patio table like nice sensible people should.

Ahem.

So I thought I would take a moment to answer a few questions from yesterday's comment portion of the program (thank you for those by the way, they make me feel so loved and appreciated when I really should feel nothing of the sort because I am a collassal boob). So here goes:

Cindy asked several questions, so I address them forthwith:

1. Valdani threads: The chart calls for the Valdani six-ply floss. This is an overdyed cotton floss that comes in a little ball (just gotta' love the balls, don't we?), and there are several different beautiful colors in the mix. What I especially love about this is the fact that you simply pull off a length and go...no stripping or sorting or blending or whatnot. And since I was smart enough to stick a needle in each ball all ready to go, I seem to be able to get a lot more accomplished than I normally would threading and then re-threading for each color. I know that some folks have not liked the Valdani because they feel rough and seem to tangle more than other threads, but I haven't really had too many problems with my batch.

2. What's that thingie holding my pattern? That would be a Kelmscott magnet that has a crown on it. All of the Kelmscott magnets in my collection are gifts from Aunt Chrissy, and this particular one was given to me when we were both knee-deep in the whole Tudor watching thing. I think I have four or five of them now, and I prefer to use them to hold the chart (as opposed to a needle), because they are dimensional and the needles don't lay flat on them.

3. Where to ask me questions so that I will answer them? The sad fact of the matter is that I am notoriously unreliable and almost never have enough courtesy to respond to your comments or questions. I always THINK I'm going to get to it, but somehow never seem quite able to do so. Ridiculous, I know, but let's just chalk it up to one of the delightful quirks that make me me and move on. You can, however, send me an email to spinsterstitcher@aol.com and I will most certainly try to chat with you there.

4. Do I use a stand thingie? This is a rather interesting subject, since I seem to haul out my fancypants floor stand at least twice a year with hopes that I will finally figure out how to use it. I don't think that it's anything that's wrong with the stand per se, but rather the fact that I sit like an idiot in the Happy Chair when I stitch and there isn't a stand on the planet that can contort itself to adequately hold my stitchy project. I have visions of sitting like a lady and using a floor stand to make my stitches lay better, etc., but somehow I always seem to end up with my leg hitched up and the q-snaps propped up on my boobs. Wonderful tool, those boobs. I can put one end of the project I'm working on right under my chin and then put the other end on the Target teevee tray to the left of my chair and I'm ready for action. It's not exactly a posture that would be appropriate for public consumption, but I figure that as long as the girls are here, they might as well do something other than spend all of their time in my shoes.

5. I haven't tired a Chatelaine or Papillon design yet, but I can tell you that when I'm hankering for a project that calls for specialty stitches on linen, I almost always reach for a Shepherd's Bush band sampler or anything from The Drawn Thread. I do love basic cross stitch, and God knows I love doing canvas work and painted canvas needlepoint, but the juxtaposition of specialty stitches on linen somehow strikes a perfect chord every now and then. It's funny that you would ask this question, Miss Cindy, since Aunt Chrissy and I just had this very discussion not two days ago.

Miss Edy asked what I use to hold the excess fabric, and it's here that I have to confess that I'm a total spaz. (Kell soo-preese, right?) I was using elastic headbands exclusively until Aunt Chrissy and I hit the kitchen gadget aisle of the Bed Bath and Beyond a few weeks ago for chip clips. What's important to know about using the clips, though, is that you have to make sure that they will open wide enough to hold the q-snap. I bought about fifteen different kinds, but in the end I found that the very best ones are made by Oxo. They have a really nice rubber strip on the inside that protects your linen, and the length seems to be just perfect for holding long edges.

Oh, hold on...I'll go get the camera and snap a few pics.

.......


OK. Here's the one that I bought. It's about five inches long and I think I got two of themfor about four bucks:

And since I have the damn camera out, I might as well show you the clip in action:

(No, you're not seeing things. I had this on much bigger q-snaps yesterday and was using the elastic headband thingies to hold the excess linen, but my short and stubby arms were getting tired and I needed to switch to the shorter snaps. While I was at it, I decided to go with the clip thingie too.)

(Oh, and yes, I am stitching upside down since I am finally almost at the top of the pattern.)


That concludes the Q&A portion of the program today, kids. Thank you for reading this here silly blog and for taking the time to comment. Stewey and I just love hearing from you.

I'll leave you with a pic of Stewey doing what he does best:

WHEN LAST WE LEFT OUR HEROINE...

This was my progress on Spring Quaker all the way back there at the end of March:
And here it is after about twenty minutes of stitching this weekend:



We had a rather normal weekend here at Chez Spinster. Saturday dawned bright and early in time for Stewey to have a date with his Aunt Chrissy. I'd been kvetching about her lack of bonditude with the little guy all week long, and she finally caved and took him to PetSmart, where she spoiled him rotten with a trunkload full of toys and treats. (Thank you again, Aunt Chrissy. As soon as his stationery arrives from the printer, I'll make sure that YouKnowWho gets a card in the mail to you.)

I'm determined to get the vegetable garden planted this week, so keep me in your prayers. Outside and I don't do well together, and when you combine that fact with the 80 plus degree heat we're supposed to have, I can almost feel the heatstroke coming on. I'll wear a hat. And long sleeves. And sunscreen. And I'll drink lots of fluids. But I'm pretty sure that the seven minutes it's going to take to get these damn plants in the ground is going to kill me.

(See "The time I dug a forty-foot long trench because the mulch guys were coming" as evidence of my outside prowess.)

(I could have been the wife on Green Acres.)

Happy Monday! I hope that wherever you are is exactly where you want to be and that your weather cooperates with whatever it is you want to do.

PREVIOUS POST REMOVED

I've removed the previous post about me "burning my face off". Not good timing considering Oprah's show today about a woman who suffered horrifying disfiguration in a car accident.

If I offended anybody who thought I was trying to be funny (I wasn't, I swear), I'm truly very sorry.

HOLEY SCHMOLEY

As I was standing in the front yard at 5:30 this morning waiting for Stewey to do whatever it was that he felt compelled to do at that ungodly hour, I kept saying to myself "Hmmmm. Today is May 19th. Why is May 19th ringing a bell in my head?"

So when I awoke (a few hours later, thank you very much), it hit me that May 19th is the date that I graduated from both high school and college. I graduated from Lima Central Catholic High School on May 19, 1984, and I graduated from the University of Notre Dame on May 19, 1989.

Yes. It's true. I am old.

Progress continues on Stars. I completed the block in the lower right corner and started another block, much to my surprise. I figured that I would need a break from this one, but I just jumped right into that fourth block without even thinking about stitching anything else. That's how much fun I'm having.

I've been remiss in explaining more about this piece, so for those of you who don't have the pattern or who haven't heard the explanation of it:

Tony Minieri's Stars For a New Millennium is "a study in color, texture, stitch and thread". "Each square in this pattern is based on a traditional star quilt pattern and is named after a movie star from Hollywood's Golden Age. The stars are linked by a movie in which they both starred."

Starting at the top left, the stars are:
Marilyn Monroe, Clark Gable, Vivian Leigh
Marlon Brando, Eva Marie Saint, Cary Grant
Deborah Kerr, Gregory Peck, Ava Gardner
Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Gary Cooper

(In case you're keeping track, I've completed Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, and Gary Cooper and I started Deborah Kerr last night.)

Cool beans, huh?

Here's my craptastic photographs for the day:

Gary Cooper, lower right block

Deborah Kerr, first block in the third row

My progress so far