POOF!

Money has flown through my checkbook like a drunken spinster in a needlework shop.   Between the visit to the emergency vet, Stewey's annual physical, and now an air conditioner repair....methinks my pen has scorch marks on it.

I settled in for some stitching last night and felt a bit flushed.  This is normal for me, especially when Kevin Costner is on the Tee Vee, but by 11pm, it was a balmy 78 degrees in here.  When you consider the fact that I normally keep the place like a meat locker, this was definitely a problem.  I was smart enough to turn the thing off so as to preserve the motor, and headed to the big girl sleigh bed to fret.

One capacitor later and we're back in business, and God willing that will be the end of our little surprises for a while.

I did get the full report on our patient.  Turns out he's perfectly perfect in every way, and a coat or two of clear nail varnish every now and then will do the trick.  I would prefer to go the Sally Hansen route, but I heard somebody on the phone this morning asking about package deals at Canyon Ranch. Damn dog.

(I am, however, completely relieved to know that he is in good health and will be around to torture me a good while longer.)

I'm headed to the Happy Chair for a stitching session.  If all goes well, I hope to finish my LJP piece and move on to the next!

TEE HEE HEE HEE HEE

I'm sorry, but this picture makes the whole world a better place.

SATURDAY SCORCHER

The heat index is predicted to be 105 today, so Stewey and I are hunkered down with vats of iced tea with lemon.  (Pips removed, thankyouverymuch, or SOMEBODY throws a colossal fit).

I've decided that we're going to stitch and watch bad TeeVee for the entire weekend. ( I seem to be obsessed with all things Kardashian as well as old Dateline episodes. Wonder what's up with that?)

Here is the piece that's captured my attention for now.  This is Laura J. Perin's Stained Glass Windows done in a pink and brown colorway:

I had completed that second to last block last night but realized that I had stitched it entirely wrong because I was a) looking at the wrong page of the chart and b) I had my canvas turned upside down.  A few choice swear words later, some reverse stitching, and a little bit of sympathy from You Know Who and all was put right once again.

With all of the drama around here, I think I neglected to show you the end result of my Independence Day piece:

I so enjoyed this one, and now have three projects finished in the red, white, and blue theme.  Maybe I should think about getting these framed and up on the wall one of these days?
 

OK. SO THAT HAPPENED. AGAIN.

I can't even...

In the event that you can't figure it out, please note that You Know Who is now sporting a new booboo cast on his left front foot, as opposed to the old booboo cast that was on his right front foot a week and a half ago.

This time, though, we had the added bonus of a visit to the Emergency vet (read: "Who needs groceries when you can spend it on booboo casts instead?"), blood everywhere, and nine vicious bunny teeth bite marks on Mommie as she tried to staunch the flow, find the missing toenail, and put on a bra for the white-knuckled dash to the hospital.

Oey.

And, yes, we have an appointment with the non-emergency vet tomorrow to see what's going on with Little Lord Fauntleroy's toes.  I swear, if it turns out that he's getting some kind of exotic spa treatment that's causing all of this, or that he's stubbing himself on his Manolos when we play fetch, I'm going to move far far away.

A LITTLE MORE PROGRESS...

NEXT!

I started this piece quite some time ago, but it seemed like the perfect project to return to now.  

This is Laura J. Perin's "Color Study: Starry Nights", and I have changed the colorway to a red, white, and blue theme.

I'm using DMC perle cotton #5 in 321 red, 336 blue, and 3865 white, along with the corresponding DMC floss in the same colors.  I think that the background will be Caron Watercolours in Honeysuckle, but I only have one skein and am not sure if it will be enough, so that might change.

All I know is that I'm enjoying this tremendously, and am just happy that needle and thread are part of my evenings again!  Oh, how I missed the perfection of a LJP chart!

Stewey sends his love and thanks for your concern for his recent Mo-ther induced injury.  I have to say...he only milked it for a day or two before he returned to his usual Royal Heineyness Little Self.  Almost makes me wonder if he realized how bad I felt and decided to go easy on me?  

OK. SO THEN THAT HAPPENED.

The title of this post should be "Why my Mo-ther sucks, by Master Stewey Angus Willowswamp, His Very Little Self".

We awoke early, had breakfast, took our morning constitutional, and then headed for our pedicure.  We even left early enough to enjoy some sniff-time at the pet medical center so that we didn't rush in the place like we usually do, with Stewey a nervous mess and Mommie Dearest svitzing like a pudding at a picnic.

And then I proceeded to hit him with the door on the way into said clinic, and managed to rip two of his little toenails right off of his tiny little bunny foot.

It took the team about a half hour to patch him up while I frantically tried to clean up the massive pools of blood all over the lobby, me, the exam room, and the lovely display of historical materials celebrating the clinic's 100 year anniversary.  Between me huffing and puffing and bawling over what an idiot I am, and the horrified parents of other pets trying to console me, there was blood.  Lots and lots of blood.  Who was the character in Shakespeare who kept trying to wash the bood off of her hands?

Well, about an hour ago, that was me.

Except instead of looking all tragic and elegant, I looked more like a pitiful lunatic trying to sanitize an entire pet medical center with a crumpled up tissue and a travel size bottle of Purell that I fished out of the bottom of my Vera.

I'm pretty sure we're going to have to move now.

P.S.  Stewey is fine, by the way...I'm the hot crock pot full of mess in need of sedation.

THERE.

Bora Bora

Needle Delights Originals

18ct. mono canvas in white

Threads from chart

I finished this moments ago after a long day of....well, I'm not sure what it was a long day of, actually, but apparently carefully reading charts was not on the list.  That last section is not at all what is charted in terms of the color placement, but methinks it is going to have to do for now.  I'm afraid that if I un-stitch and re-stitch, it will kill the little bit of momentum I've had these last few days, and given the state of my stitchy union lately, I really don't want to tempt fate.

Why can't I get my act together?

Even Stewey is out of whack.  He jumped up into the Happy Chair and told me that if I didn't take him for a pedicure soon, he was going to run away from home.

(Tomorrow.  10am.  And if somebody behaves himself, there is the possibility of a quick trip to the PetSmart for provisions.)

I hope that your corner of the world is considerably more in sorts than our is at the moment, and that wherever you are is exactly where you want to be!

ALMOST THERE...

STITCH. RIP. CURSE. REPEAT.

Ahhhhh, welcome back, old friend neurosis.  I got myself completely stumped on this piece and couldn't figure out why the stitches weren't matching up.  Turns out, I was off by one lousy little stitch in the striped section, and it threw the whole lot off.

A few hours of ripping and re-stitching and I'm back in the saddle.

And yes, I really did try to compensate rather than rip, but this is me we're talking about and I just couldn't stop the screaming in my head...

MEMORIAL DAY...7AM

THOUGHTS ON TURNING TEN, BY MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP, HIS VERY LITTLE SELF

So far, it's a lot like turning nine.  Mo-ther has promised tea and toast in the big girl sleigh bed for the morning, but I'm not optimistic that her efforts to satisfy me will be entirely successful.  Oh well, I suppose that I will give the old gal points for trying.

Now that I'm ten does this mean I neèd to stop peeing on the ottoman?

CANVAS CONVERSATIONS

I 've been having a conversation with this project as I'm stitching it -- asking it what it wants to be and how I can help it live up to its full potential.  (What can I say?  It's vastly more satisfying than listening to Stewey prattle on about topics I don't understand --- like the impact of foreign aid on the Greek debt crisis or the British Parlimentary elections.)

This canvas keeps telling me that it wants to sing with some basketweave and a little silk, and, if I think I can manage it without making too much of a hash of it, some specilaty stitches and fibers that were suggested by Miss Janet Perry Her Very Self in a stitch guide that she did for me for this piece oh so long ago.

The months away from stitching have made me a little gun shy about getting all fancypants, so the fact that this canvas seems perfectly happy to stick with simple and classic makes me breathe easy.  No need to re-invent the wheel just yet, I guess.

Baby steps.

BACK IN THE SADDLE, AGAIN

It's 8:00 on a Friday night.  I'm in my jammies, the diet Coke is bubbling away in my sippy cup, and the needle is about to start flying!

WOOOOOO HOOOOOO!

By the way....crazy loved this book.  Just can't figure out why, since it is well beyond my coolness level.

A LITTLE NOTE FROM MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP, HIS VERY LITTLE SELF

My mo-ther can't come to the blog right now.  We've had a rather interesting morning here at Chez Spinster, and all I can conclude is that she might have done something incredibly stupid....or incredibly brave.  All I do know is that she is in the Happy Chair with needle and thread in hands, muttering something to herself that she will never ever never ever let anyone or anything come between her and the thing that saved her pitiful little life ever again.

I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I keep hearing the words "hyena" and "enough".  And given the fact that she got up at the crack of dawn, put on her outside clothes and shoes, and then was gone for only an hour or so, I am guessing that she decided to get out of the litter box once and for all and get back to her life.

My mo-ther is a good person.  True, I am the first to point out her failings in the areas of homekeeping, martini making, and general learning how to be out in polite society without breaking into a flop sweat and chattering like a circus monkey -- but she is kind and hard-working and decent and well-meaning (most of the time), and other than a few very dark periods from her past she has been a pretty OK person.

So the fact that this hyena was able to infiltrate her little brain and convince her that she was worthless and incompetent and lazy and stupid is surprising, but not impossible.  She didn't have her shields up.  And she didn't have the capacity to realize that no matter what this animal said or did to her, at the end of the day, she has me and Aunt Chrissy and my pesky little cousin Bosco and all of you to have her back.  

I'm not going to disturb her from her stitching today, since it's the first time I've seen a smile on her face in months, but I did want to let you all know how much your love and encouragement and words of wisdom have meant and have done for her (and me) these last several weeks.  Thank you, dear pals.  From the bottom of my silk smoking jacket clad heart, I love and cherish you deeply.

Now I'm going to get back to my sunspot near the patio door.  But first I need to pee on the ottoman.

With love,
Your Pal Stewey 

IT'S REALLY NOT EASY BEING ME...

Thank you for all of your comfort.  Sometimes all a spinster needs is the tender ministrations of her friends, a pat on the hand, a cup of of tea, and a "There, there, you poor dear" thrown in for good measure.

I made my trip to the bank and spent a delightful time with the lovely representative, who, as it would just so happen, was a classmate from Notre Dame.   I don't think we ever crossed paths while there, but it sure was nice to have a kind face lead me through what was surprisingly a relatively painless process.

Waiting until Saturday to get a new card is a little panic provoking, but I always have Stewey's emergency twenty to count on if I can't make it to the branch for a lobby cash withdrawl.

So I came home feeling slightly better than I did last night, when I discovered that my account had been hit again.  Same online dating site....different amount.

You will be happy and very proud to know that I harnessed my inner potty mouth and called the online dating site to politely let them know that if they hit my card or account again, I might just have to take it up with the duly designated authorities.

At  least that's how it went in my head anyway.

Turns out that I don't have a dog in the hunt, since my bank credited my account for both charges, and it's now up to THEM to chase this down....which, by the way, they probably won't do because the amounts are so miniscule when compated to the ba-jillion dollars that they normally have to keep track of.

So somewhere out there are a couple of people who will enjoy a month or two of online dating, thanks to my bank and the fact that there are apparently more important things in the world than worrying about an idiot spinster's debit identity.

I swear life was a lot simpler when you could buy stuff with two goats and a jar of jam.

GRRRRRR...

Dear person who stole my debit card number and used it to buy a subscription to an online dating site that shall remain nameless....

Really?

If the charge would have been for food, or an electric bill, or medicine for you or a sick child, I'm one of those idiots that would have happily given you the last eighteen cents in my account if I thought it would help you.

But a dating site?

I get it....truly....I do.  Being alone can seem like a very bad proposition, and I suppose that you figured that companionship would fix whatever ails you.  But do you really want to find your Prince or Princess Charming with a stolen credit card?

Phooey on you.  My morning will be spent at the bank ordering a new card, and then on the phone with all of the places that I had that old card on file to make buying things like prescriptions and car insurance and Stewey insurance that much easier.

Can a spinster just get a break, please?

Methinks I am not meant to be in the world writ large, and that life would get a lot better if I just took my little dog and a diet Coke and headed to the studio.

So how was your weekend?

UGH

I haven't stitched since February 1st, which means I haven't been me since February 1st, which means Stewey, Bosco, and Aunt Chrissy are ready to put me at the curb with a sign that says "Free to a good home.  She eats a lot, but knows how to load a dishwasher like nobody's business.  Just don't ask her to actually empty the damn thing, and you'll get along just fine.  Updated on all shots and vaccines, and fairly housebroken, but ridiculously high maintenance and not to be trusted with other pets or small children, since she has a tendency to take their toys."

Ugh.

Ugh.

Ugh.

IT'S THE EASTER JACK RUSSELL TERRIER, CHARLIE BROWN!

I only have a quick minute before You Know Who decides to wake up from his post-luncheon nap, so I'll have to make this quick....

Aunt Chrissy and I had a lovely Saturday with the girls at House of Stitches.  (Waving a hearty HELLOOO! to Miss Linda, Miss Joy, and Miss Cherry!).  Provisions were purchased, threads were petted, and the Spinster Stitcher Basket 'O Stitching Fun was updated accordingly.  (Pictures to follow, I promise).

Easter dawned bright and early (as I think it usually does), and a fine time was had by all.  Stewey participated in an egg hunt on the back lawn of the neighbors, and managed NOT to chew the arm off of three tiny little girls dressed all in yellow.  I was dumbstruck and amazed, but my stupid dog hopped around noodging the hidden eggs, stood over them until a tiny little girl dressed all in yellow came to collect it for her basket, and then wiggled his tail and barked heartily as they scampered to the next conquest.

Whew.

I am DEFINITELY not insured for him to be his usual anti-social ferocious snarling self with tiny little girls dressed all in yellow.

Aunt Chrissy insists that Stewey really is part bunny and that the outfits of the tiny little girls dressed all in yellow were Little Lord Fauntleroy approved, so that's the only reason why we avoided catastrophe.

I'm just happy I don't have to move.

WILLOWSWAMP...STEWEY WILLOWSWAMP

My mom can't come to the blog right now.  She's sitting in the Happy Chair on her ample heiney, drooling into her sweatshirt over a tuxedoed Pierce Brosnan in Die Another Day.

It occurred to Mo-ther that she has never watched a James Bond movie from start to finish, and this particular Thursday seemed like as good a place as any to start.  I would have started with something involving a more classic Bond, but this is my stupid mo-ther we're talking about, after all.  So I will wait until she gets to one featuring Sir Connery before I reveal the news that the most recent Bond looks like Yours Truly with his fair hair and devastatingly handsome disposition.

Thank you for all of the lovely encouragement about the "situation" Mo-ther is presently embroiled in.  As she was boo-hooing the other night about her predicament, I reminded her that this is only a test and that she needn't worry about being made to feel the dumb bell.   There are plenty of us who love her...just as she is.

My Aunt Chrissy will step in eventually and set things to right again.  As she is fond of saying..."My sister?  Yeah, she's a marshmallow,  and she has a little dog that doesn't know he's a dog....but I'm the one you have to watch out for.  I'm the dog that BITES."

You have to love that in an aunt.

Tomorrow has been reserved for homekeeping, and then, as God is my witness, I am locking Mo-ther in the studio on Saturday until she comes out with a proper stitching basket in place.  It has been far too long since she had needle and thread in hand, and although I am a simple pup, methinks that this is surely most of her problem.

Besides, I can only put so many sedatives in her evening tea before the authorities are called and I am whisked away to account for my sins.

I do hope that this finds you well and that you know how much Mo-ther and I love and cherish your friendship.  It's an odd connection that we share, but one that is most truly priceless to us both.

With much love from your pal,
Stewey