HARVEST MOON HOUSE FEE NEE

Ms. Laura J. Perin, Her Very Fabulous Self
Harvest Moon House
18ct. mono canvas in ecru
Fibers as called for on chart

Oh, what a complete and total joy this was to stitch!  I learned so much and felt like such a freakin' rock star the entire time it was in my hands that I didn't want to put it down.  Don't you love it when a designer makes you feel like you actually might someday have half a clue of what you're doing?  Who's better than Ms. P for that, I ask you?

And can I give a big shout out to Miss Charlene, Her Also Very Fabulous Self for a wonderful tip about bullion knots....(use a Milners' needle so that the entire length of the needle is the same circumference and the little knots slip off easier....who knew?  and Miss Elizabeth of Needlepoint Now fame, Her Also Very Fabulous Self Too for a great how-to video on the YouTube that made learning how to actually do the damn little bullion knots very very simple.

Thanks, girls!  You ROCK!

THAT'S AAAA MORE RAY!

One of my very favorite movies of all time is "Moonstruck".  So last night, as I settled my big fat heiney into the Happy Chair apres' dinner (leftover lasagna and a salad, thankyouverymuch), I stitched the moon on Laura J. Perin's Harvest Moon House while belting out the theme song.

Laura says to randomize your tent/basketweave stitches so that you get a good effect with the colors in said moon, and methinks she is a gee-ney-ous, since that's exactly what happened.  Almost looks kinda real, if you ask me.

(Which I know you didn't, but I thought I'd mention it anyways.)

As for the smoke...I'd love to tell you that I came up with those gentle wispy swirls on my own, but they are the result of me following the chart.

See?  Gee-ney-ous.

Today I'll add the leaves to the trees and then the stems to the pumpkins.  I've left those for last, since they are to be stitched in bullion knots, and I've never even tried one of those.  I suspect that there might be a fair amount of cussin' in my future, but I am optimistic that I'll eventually prevail!  Stay tuned!

Don't you just love the Fall?  Makes me want to buy school supplies.....

AAAAHHHHHH TUM

I've got an eighteen pound lasagne in the oven bubbling away, the windows and doors are thrown open to the cool and lovely breeze, Stewey is sacked out in the patch of sunshine coming in the back window, and I'm headed to the Happy Chair for some Sunday Stitching!

Who's happier than me?

Here's a look at what's in the Spinster Stitcher Basket Of Autumnal Fun 2013.  (Forgive the craptastic photos, please.  The camera and I had a big fight today and....it won.)

 Laura J. Perin

Harvest Moon House

Here's hoping that your neck of the woods is perfectly perfect in every way today!  Woo Hoo!

JUST THE FACTS, MA'AM

 

 Laura J. Perin

Harvest Moon House

Look!  A flagstone walkway!  Some lovely bushes!  Now you can make your way to the front door so that Stewey and I can welcome you in for a cup of tea and some wonderful little biscuits!  Woo Hoo!

SO MUCH FOR NO LABOR DAY...

On Friday afternoon, I wrote a list of about 30 things I wanted to accomplish.  "It's a nice long weekend"' I said to no one in particular.  "I think I'll take advantage of it and get some stuff done."

Here's the report...

Friday evening:  Zip.  Zilch.  Nada.  I did manage, however, to drool all over the Happy Chair when I fell asleep in it at 7:30.

Saturday:  Aunt Chrissy and I went to House of Stitches and then It was again with the zip...zilch...nada.  This time I was drooling all over the Happy Chair by 7:15.

Sunday:  Yet again with the...(you get the idea, right?  Do I really need to humiliate myself further by confessing to a nine and a half hour nap?)

Today:  Labor Day.  I called Aunt Chrissy at noon and said "I think I'm going to go for a quadra fecta and not do a thing today."  She replied with a "What the heck is a quadra fecta?"  and wished me good luck.

I'm not sure exactly what happened, but at about 1:00 I suddenly found myself outside cleaning up the gardens, and then it was inside to clean the bathroom, do the laundry, grill the chicken, water the plants, sort the fridge, organize a fall stitchy basket, balance the checkbook, change the bed, wash the dog....it's 8:15 and I'm ready to drop.

Here's my progress on Laura J. Perin's "Harvest Moon House"

CLEAN UP ON AISLE TWELVE....

Once again, I was minding my very own business when.....KA-BLAM ! ! !

My water heater blew up.

And then when I went into the kitchen to make myself some comfort toast, my toaster oven went...KA-PLEWEY!

I emailed Aunt Chrissy, called the home warranty company, and then went to bed and pulled the covers over my head for a week and a half.

I'm none the worse for wear, but confess that I keep looking over my shoulder for the next major appliance breakdown to happen at the most unfortunate moment.  Don't these things always come in threes?

The roof is almost complete on my Laura J. Perin Harvest Moon House, so I'll have pictures for you soon.

Unless....

WELL BLAH-DEE-DA, BLAH-DEE-DA

So there I was...minding my very own business, when I turned to Stewey and said:

"Stewey, Mommie is positively va-clempt with a serious case of on-wee.  What could possibly be wrong with me that I'm not reading, writing, stitching, blogging, cooking, or sleeping?"

At which point Stewey peered over the top of his little reading glasses and the New Yorker that he was perusing and said:

"Mo-ther.  It is August.  We go through this little exercise every year at this time.  I suspect that the reason why you are feeling so out of sorts is that you have come to the sad realization that your summer did not, in fact, turn out at all as you had hoped...much like the previous 46 summers have.  Perhaps if you just dialed down the expectation meter a bit, stopped agonizing about all of the coulda shoulda woulda's in you life, and just got on with it, we could steer this particular little goat rodeo in the right direction once and for all.  Now go get me a cookie and stop that complaining, or I'll give you something to complain about."

Stewey's right.  It IS August.  And in looking back over this here blog, I see that I hit the very same wall at the very same time each and every year.  THIS year, though, I'm finally going to attribute it to a whole bunch of crap that is entirely beyond my control and...just...move...on.

My Jersey Boy didn't come for his scheduled visit because he broke his ankle playing squash.  Yup.  Squash.   From what I can tell, this was the third major "incident" that he's had playing said squash...we've had the heart attack, the concussion, and now the broken ankle.  Hmmmm.  Methinks it's time to consider backgammon.

Anywhoose....once the physical therapy has concluded and he is up and about again, I can expect another marathon cleaning session to ready Chez Spinster for a nice long visit.  (I have visions of Ozzy and Harriet dancing in my head, but with my luck and propensity for disaster it will be more Ozzy and Sharon, I'm sure.)

I think that my stitchy slump is due to the fact that it's not really summer still, yet it's not really autumn yet.  So rather than trying to fit the square peg in the round hole again, I think I'm just going to park my heiney in the studio this weekend and come up with a nice big fat basket full of things that will make my stitchy heart sing, no matter what the season may be.  I know for sure that I want to finish my Laura J. Perin Autumn House, and I would imagine that there are several other fun things up there that will do the trick....it's just a matter of pouring the dietCoke and getting to it.

So that's the report from Lake WoeBeSpinster.  I'm sorry that my absence has caused you any undue fretting.  Sometimes I forget that there are actually other people on this big blue marble that sometimes read (or shake their heads in pitiful dismay) over me and my crazypants life.  Thank you, though, for checking in and making me fell so very.....loved.

Stewey and Aunt Chrissy and Bosco all send their very best.  We are armed with good intentions for the weekend ahead, but have dashed any bright ideas that we might have had yesterday about going to the zoo.  (What can I say?  Aunt Chrissy and I are suckers for marketing, and as we watched the commercial for upcoming events at the local zoo, we both said "Hey!  Let's go to the zoo!" like it was something that we had done a thousand and one times before.)  (For the record, we have not.)

We'll be back soon with updates and more tales, I promise.  In the meantime, please know that we hope your weekend is full of everything that blows your skirt up and much much more!

Woo Hoo!
Coni

THE HAPPY CHAIR IS GETTING A BATH

My mom can't come to the blog right now.  She presently sweating and grunting and cursing up a blue streak as she desperately tries to shampoo the Happy Chair.  From what I gather, all of this recent frenzy is due to the fact that we are expecting a house guest to arrive this weekend, and Mo-ther is afraid that said house guest will take one look (or sniff, as the case may be) at the Happy Chair and will run for the nearest Holiday Inn.

As for me, I am perfectly satisfied to spend the day in my little spot of sunshine at the back patio window.  I've been enjoying a few days of peace and quiet while the old lady occupies herself with filling the fridge with guest-friendly treats and the guest room with guest-friendly amenities, but I suspect that this little vaca won't last long.  I overheard Mo-ther telling Aunt Chrissy on the phone last night that I am to be given a b-a-t-h on Sunday morning.

(Funny how my idiot mo-ther thinks that I am incapable of understanding what she's s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g o-u-t, especially when you consider the fact that I am quite possibly the only member of our little goat rodeo capable of bringing home a Pulitzer.  Do you suppose that she'll figure it out when my name tops the New York Times best sellers list?)

The evenings have been filled with ice cream cones and Sopranos re-runs lately, but last night did present a few minutes of stitching on an oldie but goodie....Alphabets by The Drawn Thread:

I was so excited to see this one make an appearance that I behaved myself quite nicely into the wee hours so that Mom might make a little progress on it.  I do love it so, and wish that she would get this completed and framed for my pee-ed a tear, Chez Stewey.

Here's hoping that your Tuesday is lovely and still.  Until we meet again, I remain your loyal and devoted friend.

With love from your pal,
Stewey

THREE POINT....OH

My mom can't come to the blog right now.  She's too busy sitting in her Happy Chair thinking I'm a complete genius.  (For the record, I AM a complete genius....it's just taken her a little longer than most to realize it.)

As you might have noticed, the old lady hasn't picked up a piece of cross stitching in a very very long time.  She has been so dedicated to canvas work, that I was afraid that she had forgotten how to cross the little x's that so many of us find addictive and soothing at the very same time.

When I gently approached her about this, we had a knock down drag out of an argument, and I'm afraid that all the excuses in the world didn't convince me that there wasn't more to it.  "Mo-ther", I said.  "If you've decided to give up cross stitching once and for all, then might I suggest that you pack up all of the crap in the studio and give it away to our loyal and devoted friends who DO cross stitch more than once in a blue moon?"

She mumbled something about the heat and the humidity and the sun being in her eyes and how Aunt Chrissy would never understand how we could just give up on the stitching sport that started it all, but when I pressed her further, the real truth finally emerged.

"I can't see anymore, Stewey!" she bellowed at me.  "Ever since I got this new prescription to help me see better far away, I can't see up close anymore!  I am officially old now and will never be happy again and nobody will ever want to marry me or take me on a picnic or give me lovely anniversary gifts or hold my hand when I'm tired and lonely and scared!!!"

Realizing that I can't fix more than one or two of those things in this lifetime, I called my Aunt Chrissy.

"Hello, Aunt Chrissy?  This is Stewey.  Can you please put your shoes on and come take my stupid mo-ther to the Wal-Marts to get her some new reading glasses?"

"She has seventeen and a half pairs of reading glasses next to the damn Happy Chair, Stewey", my Aunt Chrissy sighed heavily.  "What the heck is wrong with them now?"

"Apparently, she is unable to see with them, Aunt Chrissy.  I know that this is a huge imposition, but could you do this for me?  I've got a marathon of The Newsroom queued up on the TeeVee for my viewing pleasure, and I'm afraid that I won't get a moment's peace to get to it with the old lady sitting here bitching about her bad eyesight and how nobody will ever love her and how she just wants to do a little cross stitching."

A half hour later and they were back from their excursion with two new pairs of reading glasses....strength 3.0 thankyouverymuch.  Why my mo-ther didn't do this sooner is completely beyond me, since once they were planted on her face I enjoyed several hours of quiet while she played with this:

Isn't it swell?  It's Flowers, Awake by Rosewood Manor and it's being stitched on the loveliest piece of 32 ct. Barnwoon linen.  God willing, we might be looking at a lovely new finish for the Big White Wall of Nothingness before the autumn leaves begin to fade.

How's things in your neck of the woods?

With much love from your pal,
Stewey

IT'S MC STEAMY!

Nope, not THAT McSteamy...just your good old average mid-July weather related steamy.  You know what I'm talking about....temps in the 80's and humidities the same.

In short, total hell for a portly spinster who positively detests sweating, which is something I am capable of doing in the shower.

(What can I say?  I'm built for comfort, not for speed.  Besides, given my portliness, I am not too keen on exposing any body parts (like arms and legs) to the overall general public, so turtlenecks and ski pants can look a little ca-razy on a day like today.)

Stewey, of course, is loving the heat and scritches at the back door every six and a half minutes so that he can plop himself on the back patio to tan.  I think he must like the warmth that comes off of the cement, but I, for one, am perfectly happy to look at the scorching stuff from the cool and friendly confines of my Happy Chair.

I've made a fair amount of progress on my canvas.  But before I show you pictures, I need to try to explain why I am such a freakin' boob when it comes to telling y'all where this one came from.  As you might remember, this canvas was purchased from the rock stars at Wool & Willow in Cleveland.  At the time, I told everybody that this was a "Rishfeld Designs" canvas, because the name "Rishfeld Designs" is printed at the bottom of the canvas.  There's even an item number next to the words "Rishfeld Designs", so I told you and everybody who asked that  this is a "Rishfeld Designs" canvas. 

So here's where the boob part comes in.

Apparently, this canvas is found on the SUSAN ROBERTS web site.  Now why I didn't know to tell you that this is a SUSAN ROBERTS canvas, I'll never know, but will you all please forgive me for leading you astray?  I hate it when I get stuff like this wrong, since I really do try to give the proper credit where credit it due, so believe me when I tell you that this was in no way intentional.  All I know is that I am still loving every single stitch of this piece, and if you decide that you would like to stitch it too, look on the SUSAN ROBERTS site under the artist Janice Gaynor, and you'll be all set.

Sorry for the confusion.

When last we left our heroine, she was fretting over what to do with the leaves.  During the course of the last few weeks I tried several different fibers and stitches, mulled and mulled them, asked anybody who would look in my general direction what they thought, and then finally decided to do this:

I know, I know, you're scratching your head right about now and saying "Decided to do what, exactly?", but if you look at the leaves, you might detect a very faint sparkle here and there that is the result of me doing a skip tent stitch with a lovely light green Sparkle Braid that I found in my stash.  It's subtle, I know, but the shading on those leaves is so darn pretty that I really wanted to let it come through.  Thanks to a remembered hint from Miss Jane at Chilly Hollow a few years back on another canvas I was playing with, I gave it a go and decided that I quite like the results.

Methinks I might actually finish this one today, and then it's off to the beading portion of the program.  I'm hoping that I might tart this up with some fancy schmancy crystals and such, so stay tuned and get ready for the big reveal with the next decade or so.

If I get all of my chores done, my Needlepoint Now column written, and adequate tummy-rub time given to Stewey, I might start the Zecca bird canvas.  I had thought that I should switch to a little cross stitching, but it would seem I'm still in a canvas state of mind, so I might as well go with the flow for a bit.

I do hope that this finds you happy and healthy and wealthy and stitching on this fine Sunday afternoon.  If you're hot, keep cool, and if you're cool, keep warm!

Woo Hoo!
Coni

STITCHING AND FEASTING AND GROUNDHOGS, OH MY!

We had such a lovely time of it on Saturday stitching with Miss Myrtis and Miss Charlene.  I sometimes forget how perfect an afternoon can be when it's spent in the company of like-minded friends who don't  mind that I'm a nutball of the highest order.

There's been a fair amount of rain and thunderstorms in this area lately, so in an attempt to batten down the hatches, Stewey and I moved all of the patio crap into the corner and hoped for the best.  I was reading the paper and getting my wits about me the other morning when I heard a little scritch-scritching on the patio window.  I thought it might be Stewey trying to clean the glass to improve his view of his daisy, but alas, it was our new friend....Gretchen Gandolfini:

Isn't she swell?  Stewey wanted to invite her in for tea and toast, but I thought it would be better to just chuck a big piece of broccoli out into the back forty in hopes that she would get the hint and relocate.

She did.

He'll get over it eventually, I'm sure, but in the meantime, all I hear coming from the general vicinity of his perch is a lot of kvetching over the fact that I never let him have friends over to entertain in the manner to which he (and Martha Stewart) have become accustomed.

Damn dog.

I'm really happy with the progress I've made on the Rishfeld canvas.  If you would have told me a few years ago that there would come a time when I would stitch the same thing for months on end, I would have thought that you'd fallen down and smacked your little head on the pavement.  What the heck happened to that schitzo-stitcher who flitted from thing to thing to thing with her hair on fire?

Ahhhhhhh, maturity.

The sunflower in the corner is complete, but for a few beads in the center:

(I know that there are areas of open canvas here, but I kind of like it that way.  The paint color is really lovely and has a bit of sparkle to it, so I ask you, would it BE so wrong to just leave it alone?)

The big central flower is coming along.  I'm still not too sure about those outer petals, but given my new attitude, I'm not above trying a few different things before settling on the final stitch:

So that's the report from Lake WoeBeSpinster, kids.  We're back in the Happy Chair today armed with a marathon of Magic City and a ham sandwich for sustenance. 

What's new with you?

YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME

I was doing just fine.  Really.  I was.  I managed to actually get out of the bed, dry my eyes, blow my nose, and sit up in the buggy like a real live person.

"What ever happened to keeping your crazy on the inside?" I wondered as I poured my morning coffee. "The way you're carrying on, you'd think that you had lost a close family member.  For pity's sakes!  You didn't go this far over the edge when you really DID lose close family members!  What the heck is WRONG with you, anyway?"

So I got on with the business of things until Aunt Chrissy told me that his funeral is going to be on Thursday at the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine.

And I puddled all over the place again.

No, in case you were wondering, I never met or dated or married or touched or talked to or even came within the same zip code as James Gandolfini.  But I loved him as though he were my very own soul mate, imported straight from New Jersey its Very Fabulous Self....just to make me giddy.

James Gandolfini was the only reason I actually put my glasses on my face some days.  And watching him in The Sopranos was a ritual that I performed as a way to forget about reality for a few hours and go deep into a world full of gabba-gool and Christo-fa!

Yeah, I lived in New Jersey for six years, but I never really "was" Jersey.  I tried.  Really.  I did.  I came home to Hoosierville and impressed the dickens out of anybody who would listen with my tales of life on the shore and all of the amazing things you could find there in the way of food and family and attitude.  I admit it. I became a total wanna-be from the moment I laid eyes on the Garden State Parkway, and planting myself in front of Tony and Carmella and the gang made me feel like I could fit right in rather than get laughed out of the neighborhood for calling it pasta and sauce instead of noodles and gravy.

Then there were the moments when I watched other things with my boy in, like The Mexican and The Last Castle.  Yeah, yeah, I know.  He's going to be remembered for his portrayal of the world's favorite white terry cloth bathrobe wearing mafioso, but to me he was also a guy who could make ice melt with those limpid pools of deep brown love once he set them on you.

Oh.  Sorry.  I got a little lost there, didn't I?

From the time I could begin remembering, Mom carried a coin in her purse that she always said was her good luck charm.  All I knew was that it was about twice the size of a quarter and had a church on it.  I'm sure that she probably told me a thousand times where it came from, but all I heard was something about New York and a cathedral called St. John the Divine.  I don't know if Mom got the coin during a visit there, or if it was given to her by one of her brothers as a souvenir, but she carried that thing every day of her life and then it passed along to Aunt Chrissy and moi as our very own good luck charm.

Over the years, we've kind of passed it back and forth as a little secret way of bolstering each other up during tough times.  We've never actually said it aloud, but when the coin change hands there's an implicit "Boy, are things sure screwed up for you!" that necessitates the transfer of the coin and all of its hopeful good luck.

So as I was sitting and minding my very own business yesterday, Aunt Chrissy walked in and handed me the coin.  I figured that it was her way of saying "Snap out of it!", but instead she just let me hold it for a minute and then she told me that James Gandolfini would have his funeral in the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine.

And I bawled all over again.

OK.  I'm done now.  Sorry to let my crazy on the outside, kids, but it was getting pretty full in there and I'm almost afraid of the permanent damage that would have resulted from me going one more day with a smile plastered on my face and a simple "Fine, thank you.  How are you?" coming out of my mouth every time somebody in polite society asked me how I'm doing.  So, finally, we're moving on.

Stitching continues on the Rishfied canvas.  I'm concentrating on the center flower and hope to make some significant progress this weekend when we get together with some lady friends for a little Saturday afternoon stitch fest.  I'm so excited about it I can barely keep from prancing around, but I've promised Aunt Chrissy that I will take my medicine and not "be me" no matter how hard it might be to just fake a little normal for a few hours.

Is it just me, or does this look exactly like the progress pic that I posted nine months ago?

 

Stewey sends his love.  He has his very own obsession at the moment, so we're currently in an "all Liberace all the time" mode around these parts.  I swear, if I have to watch Behind the Candelabra one more time I'm going to break something.  When you combine that with the fact that I keep finding rhinestones all over the damn place, it's any wonder I haven't gone further round the bend.

 "Sorry, Mo-ther.  You've got your crazy obsessions and I've got mine.  Get over it already."

I hope that this finds y'all well and safe and happy and healthy and stitching to your heart's content. 

Can you believe that it's June already?

HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PLAN (WELL, MAYBE KINDA SORTA)

So there I was, minding my own business, when it kinda hit me smack dab between the eyeballs.  Instead of agonizing about how in the holy heck I'm going to stitch the leaves on this canvas, I decided to get started on the center flower.  And to do that, I decided to stitch the same cross-hatch stitch in the center so that it will be all matchy matchy and also come a bit forward.  I think that I'm going to stitch that purple loop do loop in the same stem stitch background as the yellow flowers in the outer border, and then the rest of the big flower will be tent stitch.  (Don't fret about the little black dots, kids.  I'm going to tart this sucker up to within an inch of its life with some pretty crystals and beads when it's all done, so those definitely won't get lost in the shuffle.)

Isn't it funny how inspiration strikes?  I find that morning shower time is the most productive, but if I go into said shower telling myself that I'm going to solve the mysteries of the universe...nothing.  But if I'm half asleep and not really quite human at o'dark hundred, KA-BAM!  I'm witty and urbane and smart and organized.  Ideas flow like water from Ye Olde Target showerhead, and before I've lathered, rinsed, and repeated, I'm on fire with brilliant-ness.

(Too bad I can't figure out how to make those few moments of mental clarity last throughout the day, or we'd really get stuff done around here.)

Methinks I'm going to plant my fanny in the Happy Chair with a Magic City marathon and some ice cold Cleveland water for sustenance today (*).   The laundry will still be there tomorrow, and I'm pretty sure that Mr. Fussypants would rather lounge in the sun than hide under the bed to get away from the Hoover.

Here's hoping that your weekend is exactly as fabulous as you want it to be!  Woo Hoo!

(*) Cleveland water:  When Aunt Chrissy and I were at the Cleveland Clinic, there was a big jar of water in the lobby filled with herbs and fruits and stuff.  (Remember that?  I kept making Aunt Chrissy drink it because I was convinced that it was magic and would fix whatever's wrong with her.)  Well, I've started a little tradition here at Chez Spinster whereby I fill a pitcher up each morning with lemons and limes and mint and basil and whatever else sounds good, and I try to sip on it all day.  And yes, before you ask...I scrub the lemons and limes and mint and basil thoroughly and use bottled water, so if this is going to end up killing me, it will only be from good intentions and not some crazyass pesticide that they're using on citrus these days to make it more citrus-like.

Happy, happy weekend, folks!  We'll see you on the other side!

A WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON MEMO FROM MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP, HIS VERY LITTLE SELF

My dear and special friends both far and near....

It seems that several weeks have passed since last we spoke, so I thought I would take a moment to put pen to paper (or paws to keyboard as the case may be) to say hello to my adoring fan club.

(Or as my stupid Mo-ther calls you...."sweet people who are kind enough to put up with the lunatic rantings of a portly spinster and her precocious little dog".)

But I digress...

Summer is upon us here in Spinster's Corners.  Although the temperatures are hovering in the 70's, we've managed to spend a fair amount of time outside enjoying some warmth and sunshine nonetheless.  Mo-ther and Aunt Chrissy have planted the usual garden and flower pots, and it would appear that this year will be no different in that Mo-ther will forget to tend to said garden and flower pots and Aunt Chrissy and I will be left to manage the inevitable hand wringing and complaining that will spew forth from the old lady's mouth once she realizes that she is not, in fact, Ina Garten or the nice lady in the movie It's Complicated, who seemed to grow basketball-sized tomatoes from the top of her straw hat.

I have been behaving myself admirably, but must confess that this is more the result of me spending 7 to 8 hours at a time in my apartment rather than any concerted effort on my part not to pee in the freshly laundered house.  Yes, you read that right.  My mo-ther finally got off her big fat heiney, and she took both the living room and dining rooms apart and scrubbed them to within an inch of their lives.  She even removed the lovely fabric skirts from the chairs that I had been using for "target practice" all these years, so now I am left with nowhere to hide and Glad wrapped chairs legs as a silent admonition not to even think about it.

Mo-ther is still stitching away on her Rishfeld canvas and has applied several thousand basketweave stitches to parts various and sundry.  She's seems perfectly happy to stick with this one, but I am very anxious to get her knee-deep into some cross stitch or other things before the dust settles on the studio stairway and we're unable to remember how to do anything other than simple tent stitch.

My Aunt Chrissy and Bosco are hanging in there and send their love as well.  On particularly bad days, my Aunt Chrissy is lifted up by your love and concern, and she wanted me to send you big fat kisses and a heartfelt thank you.  She will be well soon enough, and since we all seem to be made of hearty peasant stock around here, I suspect that all will be right with the world sooner than we think.

I do hope that this finds you well and that you know how much we love and appreciate you all.  I hope that your needles are flying, your families are thriving, and that until we meet again you remain happy and healthy and wealthy and wise.

With much love from your pal,
Stewey

HMMMMMMM......

I'm having a love/hate relationship with my stitching efforts on the Rishfeld canvas.  There are moments when I look at the yellow flowers and think "Cool.  A little bit of dimension. With a lovely crystal in the center, these babies will really pop!"

Other times I wonder what in the h-e-double-toothpicks I was thinking.

So I've decided to finish those last two in the upper left and then move on to another mo-teef.  Then, when the whole kit and caboodle has been completed, I can decide if the yellow flower "let's just do a few random stem stitches" idea will stay or go.

How's things in YOUR neck of the woods?

OH, OKLAHOMA

We're adding our thoughts and prayers to those of the rest of the world for you, Oklahoma (and elsewhere if you've been hit by Mother Nature).    I'm so sorry for it all...the loss of life, of home, of community...all of it.  I pray that you can find one small moment of peace or comfort in the coming days.




Small progress on the Rishfield canvas...

AND THEN...

My baby dear turned eight years old today.  Seems like just yesterday he was but a wee little two-pound bundle of love peeing in his playpen.  Now he's a wee little nine-pound bundle of love peeing on the drapes.

Damnit, I love this dog!

Happy Birthday, bubbala.  Mommie loves you.  Truly.  I do.

THOUGHTS ON MO-THER'S DAY, BY MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP, HIS VERY LITTLE SELF

My Mo-ther can't come to the blog right now.  She's snoring away in the big girl sleigh bed while I am left to my own devices with this computer and a few pesky squirrels at the bird feeders for company.  I realize that it has been quite a long while since last we spoke, so I hope that this finds you hale and hearty, my dear friends.

Happy Mother's Day to one and all on behalf of spoiled little pups like myself.  (Did I really just say that?  Could it be that I'm turning a new leaf and am realizing that I really do have a pretty good gig here with the old lady and all of her crazy notions of what it takes to raise a "uniquely interesting individual" such as myself?  Have I come to appreciate the fact that, while completely clueless, my stupid Mo-ther always comes from a place of love, even if the end result is usually something that makes me want to tear my little white fluffy hairs out?  Am I learning to be loving and grateful for the happy home that she's bumbleclucked her way into creating?)

Naaaaaaaaaa.

Here is some progress on the Rishfield canvas that Mo-ther started at the beginning of the year.  As you can see, she's completed stitching all of the white flowers, and has added a lovely elongated cross border in between the green and red sections and on the perimeter.  Methinks this will be quite lovely once completed, provided the old lady doesn't go totally off her nut and do something crazy like apply felt daisies to the damn thing.

We're off to a quiet Sunday. My Aunt Chrissy and pesky cousin Bosco will arrive shortly for a marathon session of stitching, snacking, and Game of Throning.  We seem to have finally fallen into a pattern of "Sissy Sundays" that makes my mom's heart positively sing, so I suppose we had better keep doing it for the duration if we expect to keep any peace and quiet around here.

I hope that you know that until we meet again I remain your loyal and devoted friend.  To all of the mothers out there in Blogville, I wish you a most heartfelt Happy Mother's Day and all that comes with it.

With much love from your pal,
Stewey

HE SAID......WHAAAAAATTTTT?! *****EDITED TO ADD

******Sorry, kids.  I see that I probably should not have violated the whole thing about politics, sex, or religion.....I was just surprised that the Pope His Very Self was throwin' shade at spinsters.

(Don't you just love how I'm all hip with the lingo suddenly?  I KNEW watching all these Real Housewives would finally pay off!!!!)

VATICAN CITY (RNS) Pope Francis on Wednesday (May 8) told leaders of women’s orders from around the world to be “fertile” spiritual mothers in the Catholic Church, not “spinsters.”

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Pope Francis waves from the pope-mobile during his inauguration Mass at St. Peter’s Square on Tuesday (March 19) at the Vatican. World leaders flew in for Pope Francis’ inauguration Mass in St. Peter’s Square on Tuesday where Latin America’s first pontiff will receive the formal symbols of papal power. RNS photo by Andrea Sabbadini

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The Argentine pontiff addressed some 800 leaders of female religious orders who are in Rome for the meeting of the International Union of Superiors General.

Speaking about the nuns’ vow of chastity, the pope stressed that it must be a “fertile” chastity, generating “spiritual children in the Church.”

With one of the more colorful off-the-cuff expressions that have become a hallmark of his young pontificate, Francis said that “the consecrated are mothers: they must be mothers and not ‘spinsters’!”

“Forgive me if I talk like this, but this maternity of consecrated life, this fruitfulness, is important!” he added.

Echoing a theme that has often resonated in his public speeches, the Jesuit pope also lashed out against “careerists” and “social climbers” who “use the Church … as a springboard for their interests and personal ambitions,” saying they do a “great damage” to the church.

The Vatican-mandated overhaul of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious, the largest umbrella organization for U.S. nuns, loomed large over the May 3-7 meeting of Catholic sisters, which is devoted to discussing the issues of authority within the Catholic Church.

On Sunday, Brazilian Cardinal Joao Braz de Aviz, who heads the Vatican office that oversees religious orders, told the meeting that he had been left in the dark about the Vatican investigation into LCWR. The Vatican’s top spokesman on Tuesday said it was “not justified” to infer that there was a “divergence” on how to deal with American nuns.

In his Wednesday speech, the pope reminded the nuns that it is “absurd” for religious women to think of carrying their vocation “outside of the church.”

“It isn’t possible that a consecrated woman or man might ‘feel’ themselves not to be with the church,” he said.

After the pope’s speech, a group of nuns was allowed to briefly greet the pope personally. Sister Florence Deacon, president of the LCWR, “was present at the audience but did not have the opportunity to greet the pope,” according to LCWR spokeswoman Annmarie Sanders.