FURTHER EVIDENCE THAT MY MO-THER IS A BOOB, BY MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP HIS VERY LITTLE SELF

In the category of "Why can't she do anything in moderation" is the report of the events of Sunday afternoon.  "Stewey", my idiot mo-ther announced.  "I think I'm going to make meatballs today".

Four hours and a lot of sweating and grunting later, I entered the kitchen to find my mo-ther sprawled out on the floor muttering "Thirty six.  I've just made thirty six meatballs."

Good thing this isn't the week that she decided to become a vegetarian.

On the stitching front, progress continues on Needle Delights Originals Tahiti.  This was the project for Mo-ther and Aunt Chrissy's newly joined ANG guild, and with all things in her life, Mo-ther is woefully behind schedule.  She is enjoying it, though, so if laundry day proves successful today, she'll get quite a but accomplished while the towels and underpants splosh about in the machine.

The moment Mo-ther saw this next one she knew that she had to have it.  It's called Flowers, Awake! and it's from Miss Karen of Rosewood Manor.  The linen is called Barnwood, and all of the threads are DMC.  I think that this one will get started as soon as its "companion" called Barnwood Buttons gets finished.  I'll  keep you posted.

Finally, I'm happy to report that my mom and Aunt Chrissy have enjoyed several Sissy Days lately, and the old lady is sporting a pretty pink manicure and perfectly trimmed bangs (for once).  I also suspect that there have been a few stitchy shopping trips, since the contents of the tote bag revealed a few new supplies for the studio.   The light bulb was my idea, since I can only imagine the hair-pulling angst that would result from a late night outage.  Mom has been stitching under a proper stitching light now instead of the nuclear halogen desk lamp, and I'm determined to keep her quiet and sans flames.

That's the report for today, my dear friends.  I'm headed to the back patio for a little sunbathing and squirrel chasing.  I hope that you are all well and warm and safe and dry and that your needles are flying!

With much love from your devoted pal,
Stewey

IT'S GOOD TO BE ME!

Oh, how can I explain what it's like to sit in my big chair and let your kindness wash over me? You just ROCK my silly little world with all of the nice things you have to say. THANK YOU, my dear stitchy friends! THANK YOU!

I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that Stewey is horrified that you encourage me. As you know, he's not exactly thrilled with most of what I do and/or don't do around here, so when you tell me that I'm swell and this results in me dancing about the living room clutching the computer mouse in my hands like an Academy Award while chanting "They LIKE me! They really really LIKE me!", he heads right for the drapes.

Humility, thy name is Mo-ther.

No stitching to report from last night, I'm afraid. I went face first into a bowl of popcorn and didn't come up for air until it was time to hit the big girl sleigh bed. I think it might be only the second or third night so far this year that I didn't poke something with a needle and thread. (heavy, heavy sigh)

DAISY O'HARE FEE NEE

Daisy O'Hare
designed by Miss Laura J. Perin Her Very Self
18ct. mono canvas in pink (I think it's called rose blush)
threads according to chart and what I had in my stash

A HAPPY BIRTHDAY MESSAGE TO MY AUNT CHRISSY, FROM MAASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP HIS VERY LITTLE SELF

My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's in the kitchen swearing at the oven and wondering why she isn't bright enough to know how to make a cake from a box. Today is my Aunt Chrissy's birthday and all she asked for was a fudge marble cake with milk chocolate icing. That's all. Just a nice simple cake and a few good wishes from her idiot sister. You would think, from the sounds coming out of the old lady though, that Aunt Chrissy had asked for the moon instead.

So it's up to me to pull this little goat rodeo together and try to salvage what I'm sure will turn out to be a complete culinary disaster. I had suggested that Mo-ther try ordering a fancypants ice cream cake, but considering that she never listens to me and has a head like a rock, we're left with Duncan Hines and all his evil intentions. Phooey, I say to that. Next time I'm putting my foot down.

I don't talk about it often, but there hasn't been one day of my life that's gone by that I haven't wished that she was my mom instead. She is smart and pretty and funny and very very organized. She knows that pups like me require some intelligent discourse, a comfy pair of cotton pajamas, and several good tummy rubs during the day. She play with me and talks to me and calls me Twinklebutt just because she knows that I secretly love it. Whenever I've watered the drapes, she puts her hands on her hips and says "Stewey, I don't approve of you peeing on the drapes, but I'm pretty sure that your mo-ther had it coming. What did she do this time?". And then she listens as I pour my heart out and reveal all of the ugly truths about life here at Chez Spinster.

Happy Birthday, Aunt Chrissy. I love you with all my heart and hope you know how special you are.

With love from your nephew,
Stewey

*************************************************

A CONVERSATION OVERHEARD ON SUNDAY EVENING

(sound of telephone ringing)

AUNT CHRISSY: Hello?

STEWEY: Hello, Aunt Chrissy? This is Stewey.

AUNT CHRISSY: Hi, Stewey.

STEWEY: Aunt Chrissy? I would like to take a moment of your time this evening to discuss something very important with you.

AC: What did she do now?

S: It's not Mo-ther, Aunt Chrissy. It's you.

AC: Me? What did I do?

S: Aunt Chrissy, are you aware that my mo-ther is walking around in the house wearing a new pair of sunglasses that look like they might have been very very very very expensive?

AC: Yes, I am, Stewey. I bought them for her.

S: Aunt Chrissy! What could have possibly possessed you to indulge Mo-ther with such an extravagant gift? You do realize, do you not, that she wouldn't know luxury if it bit her on her ample backside, and that the last time she had something this special in her proximity she tried to eat it because "it was pretty".

AC: Stewey, your Mommie is going to be 46 years old soon. Do you know what that means? She's old, Stewey. She'd old and crabby and has rapidly deteriorated into a slobbering mess of pre-menopausal chin hair. We need to do nice things for her so that when we finally send her to live at "the special place" she will remember us fondly. Besides, you aren't the one that has to sit next to her in the car when she's wearing her taped-together Target sunglasses, so mind your business. I like to do nice things for your Mommie, Stewey, and if you're not careful one of those nice things is going to involve a clothes pin and your peenie. Now is there anything else you'd like to discuss with me at the moment?

S: No, thank you Aunt Chrissy. As always it's been very pleasant speaking with you. I bid you good evening.

AC: Good night, Stewey. (muttering to self) Damn dog.

*******************************************

Aunt Chrissy is on a secret mission to make me look like a human woman and not a caricature of a drag queen. On Saturday morning we had a few buffs and polishes at the spa and then we went to the fancypants eyeglass boutique for some sunglasses. I thought I was going to just switch out some lenses in a pair that I already have, but once we started trying things on I got outnumbered pretty quickly. Needless to say, it looks like I'm going to have to start wearing big girls shoes and a bra now whenever I leave the house....otherwise everybody is going to think I'm just nuts enough to wear a mortgage payment on my face as an accessory to eighteen year old sweatpants and Wal-Mart old man slippers.

Nope. Can't take me anywhere.

******************************************

I had hoped to be able to show you a finished Daisy O'Hare today, but there were so many shows to watch last night that I finally just gave up stitching and glued my eyeballs to the TeeVee. Game of Thrones! Nurse Jackie! The Big C! And lest we forget my beloved Jeffrey Dean Morgan in Magic City! Holey Schmoley, methinks I had better start pacing myself or there's going to be a lot of Monday morning TeeVee hangovers and not very much stitching to report!

Was the Easter Bunny good to you?

LIST SCHMIST

Well, firstly, may I just say a big fat teary thank you for all of your concern regarding my ennui of late? Yes, I promise that all will be well again soon and that all of the appropriate authorities are on board, so please don't cry for me, Argentina. I am strong like bull.

Just a bull that's a little on the comatose side. That's all.

So about this list thing....

In my mis-spent youth, I was quite a list writer. As a matter of fact, if I could have figured out how to have done it, I would have written lists for a living. Sadly, this never came to be, so I was left to enjoying list scribbling as a hobby only. But what a hobby it was! I wrote my heart out on these lists, and can remember the smug satisfaction I felt as I crossed and crossed and crossed all of the items on the list as I plowed my way through life.

Now....not so much.

I didn't write lists for a very long time, but after witnessing Aunt Chrissy's success with them last year, I decided to give it a try. You see, at the beginning of the warm weather last year, Aunt Chrissy wrote a list of all of the stuff that she wanted to get done around her house. Things like painting and landscaping, and garage cleaning. All of the stuff that a responsible homeowner would do to make their little castle perfectly perfect in every way. The amazing thing is that she tackled this list with a grim determination that didn't relent until the very last thing was complete.

I was so proud of her I couldn't stand it.

My lists aren't quite that ambitious. As a matter of fact, I just wrote "empty the damn dishwasher already", followed by "check to see if Stewey has run away from home because he hasn't been seen or heard from since tea and toast this morning". What can I say? I'm pacing myself it would seem.

I've thought about starting a stitchy list, but I'm pretty sure that would just send me right back under the covers. There are at least seven hundred and ninety four projects that I'd like to complete before the SpringTide is over, and once the London Olympics start, I just know that I'm going to be jonesing for something USA'ish, so the mind already starts to whir. I suppose that I could write a list of all of the new techniques I like to learn (like wool applique), and then I could find a class or a kit that would teach me said technique on a rainy afternoon. But that would mean that I might have to put shoes on and leave the house, and we all know how THAT will end up, so methinks my stitchy list should just say "stitch".

What's on your lists? Do you set goals or jot down reminders? What about stitchy shopping lists? Do you head to your LNS armed with a list of stuff you want to purchase, or do you just let the wind take you wherever it may?

I guess that's a lot of heavy thinking for a Tuesday. Maybe it's time to tuck myself into the happy chair for a little afternoon needle-poking session. I've got Plum Street Sampler's "A Handwork's Pace" all q-snapped up and ready to go, so I'm thinking that this might be a good day for a new start! Woo Hoo!

STITCHING UNDER WATER

Progress is sloooooooowwwwww. At this point, I'm happy if I can get the darn needle threaded, but the good news is that I'm not fretting too much over it and just going with the flow. (And that flow is rather like molasses in January.) I suppose that I could pretend that this new pace is all Zen Buddha-ish and that I'm just trying to be mindful of each stitch, but the truth is that I feel like I'm stitching under water.

Or under a thick layer of Jello.

Good thing I have that dvr thingie so that I can watch and then re-wind and re-watch the TeeVee over and over again. It took me about three hours to get through a show last night because I couldn't keep up with the plot.

Oh dear...she's lost the plot.

Anywhoose....still here. Hope you had a wonderful weekend and that your own needles are flying! Woo Hoo!

SPINSTER-STILT-SKIN?

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there was a portly spinster. The spinster was lovable, but was also very very sleepy. Each morning, the spinster awoke with plans for a full and productive day, but by noontime the spinster found herself ready for a nice long snoozy nap. The spinster's little dog didn't help matters any, especially since he loved to take his very own nice long snoozy naps, and he knew that the only time he would get any peace and quiet was when the spinster snored away in her big girl sleigh bed. So each day he gently noodged her toward the bedroom until she collapsed into an incoherent slobbering heap.

Eventually, the spinster decided to embrace her sleepiness, and she armed herself with crisp white sheets, a freshly laundered cotton blanket, and several really good books. After the coffee cup was safely in the dishwasher each morning and the newspaper had been read, the spinster headed to her sleigh bed for the day and the little dog was left to dream his happy dreams with his little face turned toward the patch of sunlight coming in the back window.

The End.


..................................

Sorry for my absence, dear friends, but something is kicking my spinster heiney right into submission, and I'm feeling a little under the weather. What little stitching I've accomplished has been by way of Miss Daisy. Here she is in all her head-less-ness:
I hope that wherever you are is considerably more.....awake.

MONDAY MONDAY

All is well in the kingdom once again. Stewey has returned from his adventures poorer and with a wicked case of jet lag. He dismissed my choice of tea and toast for breakfast this morning as "so totally bourgeois" and then promptly launched into a diatribe about what constitutes a proper breakfast for His Royal Heineyness.

Apparently a week aboard a luxury yacht will do that to a fellow.

I'm making great progress on Daisy O'Hare, but will have to share pics at a later time. The camera is in absencia at the moment, and I'm guessing that once retrieved, it will reveal just what You Know Who has been up to these last several days.

So what's new in your corner of the world?

WE'LL BE BACK AFTER A WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS...

The spinster regrets she's unable to lunch today....she's en route to Monaco to retrieve her little dog from the Monte Carlo pokey. Although details are sketchy, it would appear that the little dog has gotten himself in trouble with authorities after an incident in which he called a casino employee a "ham-fisted gorilla" for stacking his baccarat chips incorrectly and for serving him an inferior vintage of champagne.

Happy Spring!

BUCKLE UP, BUTTERCUPS. THERE'S A WHOLE LOTTA PICTURES ON THIS HERE POST.

Tahiti
Needle Delights Originals

Trip Around The World Quilt
Rosewood Manor

A Quaker Study
Carriage House Samplings

Barnwood Buttons
Rosewood Manor

B My Valentine
The Drawn Thread

A Different View
Threedles

Daisy O'Hare
Laura J. Perin

Le Printemps
Birds of a Feather

Funky Flowers (my title)
Melissa Shirley

Big Red Sunflower (my title)
Amanda Lawford

Geometric (my title)
Maggie and Co.

JUST THE FACTS, MA'AM

The new and improved Spinster Stitcher Stitchy Basket 'O Fun!

• Maggie geometric painted canvas
• Melissa Shirley "Funky Flower" painted canvas
• Amanda Lawford Big Red Sunflower

• Laura J. Perin "Daisy O'Hare"
• Threedles "A Different View"
• Needle Delights Originals "Tahiti"

• Birds of a Feather "Le Printemps"
  
• Rosewood Manor "Barnwood Buttons"
• Carriage House Samplings "Quaker Study"
• The Drawn Thread "B My Valentine"
• Rosewood Manor "Trip Around The World Quilt"

If SOMEBODY hadn't taken the camera with him on Spring Break 2012, I could show you pictures. But SOMEBODY insisted that he be allowed to tote said camera in his Louie (*) all the way to Monaco.

Wait 'till he hears that they don't allow cameras inside the Monte Carlo.

Woo Hoo, Tuesday!

(*) As much as I would love to claim credit for this, it's from the movie "Leap Day" in which our plucky heroine drags her Louis Vuitton all over Ireland, much to the amusement of the handsome, yet cranky leading man Matthew Goode.

OH, MISS POSIE

Isn't this positively lovely?: http://rosylittlethings.typepad.com/posie_gets_cozy/

SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU ENCOURAGE HER?

My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's too busy prancing around in the house in her pink fuzzies, hollering something about borders and stitchy friends and how special she feels when you all say such nice things to her. I swear she's going to break out the "You Make Me Feel Like A Natural Woman" song, and nobody needs to hear THAT more than once in a lifetime. Trust me.

Hello, friends! I know I've been absent of late, but there has been so much to do around here! In addition to monitoring all of the national and international news, I'm left to devise a plan for how we're going to get Chez Spinster spiffed up for the warmer weather, and if that will effectively encourage my Aunt Chrissy to come over for Mumus and Mocktails on the patio once again.

I love my Aunt Chrissy, I really do. She "gets" me and always lends a hand (or a sympathetic ear) whenever the old lady drives me up a tree. Usually all I have to do is place a quick call, and before I know it Aunt Chrissy is in the driveway in her fancy sports car, and we tear off into the sunset. (She always secures me safely in the car seat, so don't even think about writing to the ASPCA or anything. She is, if nothing else, a safety girl).

Our recent adventure included a trip to the flower store so that I could re-fashion the cone on the front door:What I find really amusing about this is the fact that my Grandma Sig is probably rolling around in her drawer right now over the fact that her daughters have become so enamored with silk flowers. Apparently, silk flowers have come a long way since the days when Grandma Sig was around. From what I know of the family traditions, there wasn't a silk flower to be had anywhere in the rooms that my mo-ther and Aunt Chrissy called home, and the real flowers that were on display were a sight to behold. So, forgive me, Grandma Sig, but I'm a pup on a budget, and I know I'll never get the old lady trained well enough to keep that arrangement fresh looking.

Mom finished the border on her canvas and made some headway on the next flower: While I would never tell her this to her face, I will admit that I am rather pleased that Mo-ther has decided to spread her stitchy wings a bit and try new things every now and then. I do, however, want to clarify that this particular project is a painted canvas and that Mo-ther is using a stitch guide that was created by Miss Ruth from Bedecked and Beadazzled. Please don't think for a moment that my stupid mom is capable of coming up with all of this on her own. She needs supervision, people. Some of the stitches she's figured out by herself, but the master "plan" of the canvas is definitely all Melissa Shirley and Miss Ruth.

Mom got quite a few emails about the difference between this type of project and others that she does that are counted work (like the ones from Miss Laura J. Perin Her Very Self). With painted canvases, you start with the picture already on the canvas and you embellish it with threads and whatnot. In counted work, you actually create the picture on the canvas with your stitches. Does that make sense?

I suppose that all of the confusion would be avoided if Mo-ther would just pick one medium and stick with it, but the truth of the matter is that she is a...how shall I put this delicately?...a stitchy HARLOT. In other words....she does it all.

(That's not to say that she's any good at any of it, mind you, but you have to give her points for trying, no?)

Spring has sprung and I'm desperately trying to select a destination for my holiday this year. I'm quite partial to the British West Indies, but Mo-ther thinks I should stay closer to home and settle for an inflatable baby pool on the back patio instead.

She's such a bumpkin.

I hope that you are all well, my very dear friends. I do want to thank you all for your notes and calls asking if we were affected by the tornado outbreak last week. We were spared, but out hearts are broken for those who were in the path of those storms.

Do something fun and wonderful today. I've finally found the perfect spot for a little sunbathing and a book. I'm reading "Little Bee" and enjoying it immensely!

With love from your pal,
Stewey

I KNOW THE BORDER ISN'T DONE YET, BUT....BETTER?

IT'S A MELISSA SHIRLEY! WHOOPSIE (YET AGAIN)

Sorry, kids. The canvas that I'm playing with at the moment is a MELISSA SHIRLEY canvas and not a Maggie canvas. It's Melissa Shirley canvas number 1370-A.

I'm such a boob.

Thank you, Miss Cindy! Woo Hoo!

WHOOPSIE, OR WHY AUNT CHRISSY IS GOING TO HAVE TO FIND A SPINSTERSITTER TO LOOK AFTER ME

I slept funny.

You know what happens when you sleep funny? You wake up with a sore/stiff neck. So sore and stiff, as a matter of fact, that you can't turn your head in any one direction without screeching in pain.

So I fixed it.

I have a big basket 'o First Aid in the bathroom cabinet, and after fishing around in there for a few minutes I came up with some IcyHot and a thing called a Bed Buddy. The former is well known to anybody who has ever slathered themselves up into a mentholated fog after a tough workout. The latter is something that I got at the Bed Bath and Freakin Beyond for $9.99 on clearance. (It's a heat/cold thing that you can put into either the microwave or the freezer. You know...like a compress.)

Both, alas, are NOT to be used together, especially when you mis-read that label on the Bed Buddy that specifically tells you NOT to heat the damn thing up to "skin scorching" levels and then plop it smack dab on top of mentholated cream.

My neck feels great.

The third degree burns on all of the skin surrounding said neck? Not so much. (*)

This, and many many other incidents like this is why Aunt Chrissy will be furiously flipping through the Yellow Pages later today looking for an agency that caters to people who are just too stupid to be left to their own devices.

Either that, or she's going to take me to a day care center and tell them not to let me near anything breakable and/or anyONE hurtable.

But let's move on to some stitching, shall we?

This whole FIFTEEN MINUTE thing is still working well for me after a whopping two days. Yesterday I sat down in front of the Maggie canvas and before I knew it had stitched this:I'm diverging a little bit from Miss Ruth's stitch guide (because I suddenly got cocky and decided to unclip my stitchy wings), but Miss Ruth won't mind. She's cool that way. I still have lots of beads and doo dads to add, but at least I've got a pretty good idea of how things are starting to look. I do, though, want to change the colors of that border. IMHO, it's just too darn dark. Methinks I might try to completely lose my mind and do a multi-colored border with different stitches in it.

(Oh look. She stitches one darn flower and gets all jiggy with it like she knows what she's doing.)

Aunt Chrissy and I are off to the grocery store tonight. It's Thursday, so that means we'll take ourselves to the Martin's and wander the aisles aimlessly looking for the magic meal to jump into our carts. I still can't figure out what I'm hungry for, so until I do, it looks like I'll stick with meatloaf. And roasted brussel sprouts. You gotta' have the brussel sprouts.

Stewey sends his love and regrets that he has been unable to blog lately. He promises to be back soon and to fill you in on all of the crazy shenanigans over here in Hoosierville. In the meantime, please stay warm and safe and dry and know that we both love your visits with us! Thank you for making this such a lovely way to start the day! Woo Hoo!

*(And before I get a ga-zillion emails from all of you health professionals out there telling me that I need to go to the emergency room to have the third degree burns treated by a trained professional....please know that I exaggerate for effect. I'm fine. Really. I am. But saying "Gee, that Bed Buddy combined with the IcyHot cream turned my neck bright red and burnt it a little bit just doesn't have the same effect now, does it?)

(Hyperbole, people. It's how I roll.)

FINALLY! A RULE THAT ACTUALLY WORKS!

I've developed a very bad habit lately, which I'm chalking up to the fact that I am standing in the vestibule to Menopausal Hell. I'll get hungry for something and then sit in the chair saying to myself "Naaaah, that doesn't sound good" or "No, that's not what I'm hungry for". And on an on it goes until it's either too late to eat something (I mean, come on, who here has the ability to eat anything past 8pm anymore?), or I've waited too long and am now in a full-on blood sugar crash that results in me falling face first into the refrigerator.

The worst part of this new habit is that it has wormed its way into my stitching. So every afternoon/evening becomes a mental game of "I'm in the mood to stitch something......(sounds of crickets chirping) until it's too bloody late to make any meaningful progress on anything and I go to bed defeated.

If you've been here for any length of time with me, then you already know my propensity for concocting routines or tricks or bribes to get myself more productive with my stitching, so it should come as no surprise that I spent the better part of yesterday doing just that.

Finally, at around four o'clock it hit me square between the eyes.

FIFTEEN MINUTES!

(You'll note that when I shouted this out loud, I startled Little Lord Fauntleroy right out of his late afternoon reverie and right into a hissy fit that resulted in me having to wash the drapes again.)

(Damn dog.)

The thought came to me yesterday that I used to be one of those people who lived by the credo of "I can do anything for fifteen minutes". This, of course, can be put into the same philosophical category as "Just one bite of peas and then you can go back out to play", or "Start with ten minutes of light walking and before you know it you'll be running the Boston Marathon".

So that's what I decided to do vis a vis my stitching.

Whenever I am undecided as to what the heck I want to play with on a given day, I'm going to pick up a project (any project, mind you), and work on it for fifteen minutes. That's all. Just a lousy fifteen minutes to see if I can get the stitchy juices flowing. If, after fifteen minutes, I'm still bored and want to throw myself into a Violet Beuregard tantrum, then and only then will I do so with impunity -- knowing all the while that I at least gave it a shot.

So here's what yesterday's fifteen minutes turned into....about five hours of pretty good stitching on a canvas that had been languishing in the WIP basket:You know me...I loathe the idea of giving anybody advice (you can stop that snickering in the back now, please), but if you're starting to feel a little slumpy in your stitchy area, try the fifteen minute thing and see what happens. You might be amazed at what appears. (*)

(*) The fifteen minutes starts AFTER you've gathered your project, adjusted it on the stretcher bars or q-snaps, fished out all of the threads, etc., poured yourself a vat of dietCoke, and then nestled into your Happy Chair.

Baby steps, people. Baby steps.

YEAH, RIGHT. LIKE I NEED TO KILL MORE BRAIN CELLS.

I don't drink alcohol, but I spent the better part of the weekend nursing a hangover of epic proportions. As much as I'd love to tell you that it was the result of sipping too much champagne while aboard Jeffrey Dean Morgan's yacht, I'm afraid that it was nothing more than the tail end of a good old fashioned migraine.

It all started innocently enough. Aunt Chrissy and I decided to go for the fishes dinner at the Culver's, and about 3/4 of the way through my cole slaw I felt like my left eye was going to pop right out of my head and right onto my plastic spork. Fast forward to 3am, and I was face down on the cool ceramic tile of the bathroom, praying for death.

Needless to say, not a whole lot of stitching went on this weekend, but I did manage to poke a needle through a new start last night while watching the Academy Awards.

Is it just me, or did the entire thing make you want to go back to the movie theater? I haven't been in quite some time because I am convinced that I can have a much better movie viewing experience from the friendly confines of my Happy Chair, instead of having to listen to some twelve year old jackass talk on her cell phone for ninety six minutes while stuffing her face with popcorn, but I really do want to consider going back to viewing things on the big screen, since I think that the handsome French guy that won Best Actor would be even better four stories tall.

(Note to self....don't look for any awards for your writing anytime soon, especially given the fact that you can't seem to put together a coherent sentence with two hands and a flashlight.)

Here are three really terrible pictures of some of the things that I played with this weekend. 'Scuse the mess, friends. I'm just not very good at posing my stitching properly for its close up.


This is the new start: Barnwood Buttons by Rosewood Manor. I'm stitching it on 28ct. Raisin Cashel with Weeks Dye Werks Light Khaki, and I'm trying my best not to ruin, break, or lose the gorgeous buttons for it. (This one had me at hello.)
As God is my witness, I am going to finish this canvas this year. I keep thinking that a border would do it wonders, so maybe I'll futz with that for a bit before tackling the next flower. (Thread selection and stitch guide are by Miss Ruth of Bedecked and Beadazzled. Canvas is from Maggie and Co.)

And can I get a big Woo Hoo from the congregation?! I had to move the q-snaps! Now if I can just stick with this, maybe it will see the inside of the Michael's framing department before it's time to think about starting the summer girl! (Oh, sorry. This is Le Printemps from Birds of a Feather.)
So there you have it. Not much to show, but at least I'm upright and not clutching the Tylenol bottle. God willin' and the creek don't rise, I'm going to see what I can do about getting some progress made on SOMETHING by the end of the day, even if it's just a few stitches.

I'LL TAKE PERSONAL VICTORIES FOR TWO HUNDRED, ALEX

Moments ago I catapulted myself out of Dottie Van Buskirk and shouted "Woo Hoo! Look Ma! No cavities!"

There are two things you should know about that last sentence.

One, Dottie Van Buskirk is my vehicle. (Yes, I had come to a proper and complete stop in the garage.)

And two, my neighbor happened to be walking by at that precise moment, so I caught him shaking his head while muttering to himself "What in the Sam Hell is WRONG with that girl?"

But I will take any little piece of good news I can find and turn it into cause for celebration, so... cake for everybody! The Spinster Stitcher got a good report from the dentist and all of the barnacles scraped off of her molars at the same time, so let's break out the Devil's Food and get on with it!

Here's a little progress pic from last night. There would have been more but You Know Who insisted that we go to bed at a decent hour and not sit up until the wee hours poking needles through linen.



We're off for pawticures and grocery shopping tonight, and if the weather people are correct, we'll also get hit with a winter storm. Looks like it's time to break out the crock pot again! Methinks we're in for a stitchy weekend!

Here's hoping that you have your own little victories today and that somebody is there to share them with you! Don't forget the cake!

WHO NEEDS A GOOD HAIR DAY WHEN YOU CAN HAVE A GOOD STITCHY DAY INSTEAD?

Ahhhh, youth. I remember when I used to wake up in the morning and pray for a good hair day.

(Considering the fact that I usually ended up in full-on RoseAnn RoseAnnaDanna mode by 10am, you can see how this could be a priority for me.)

Now, I pull all of my fuzzy messitude into a pony and try to pretend that I am sleek and polished.

(In reality, though, I'm just old and a hot mess.)

Apparently, I've moved into a new phase of life, since I now find myself saying "Oh please oh please oh please let me have a good stitchy day. Amenandthankyouverymuch."

I'm making some pretty good progress on Le Printemps. I finally figured out that one of the things that was causing me to put this one down so much (in addition to the fact that it is the size of a bedspread), was the colors. I hated them. And before you go thinking that I'm commenting on the designer, I'd like to point out that I re-colorized this one and probably would have been better off to leave that in the capable hands of the authorities. (Aunt Chrissy pulls her own hair out every time I call her and whine that I'm having "color issues", and before I know it she's over here in her pink fuzzies making the world right once again.)

This time, though, it was all me, and I think I finally fixed it.

So here's last night's results. Stewey wholeheartedly agrees with me that I'm finally on the right track with this, but he's still hoping for that good hair day.

She takes pictures of me looking like this and then wonders why I pee on the couch.

So that's the report for a Futzingday from here in Hoosierville. I do have a few answers for some of your questions about stuff upstairs, so....

Robin asked about the little wooden trays. As much as I'd love to tell you that I found them browsing in an antique store in some quaint village someplace....they're from Hobby Lobby.

Yup, Jennifer. That little sewing machine is what I was allowed to use when I first started stitching to edge my linen. Although I haven't been given express written permission to do so, I now use the big girl machine (but still furiously try to fix it without Aunt Chrissy finding out that I've broken it or screwed up all of the tread thingies once again.) The box to the bottom left is what it came it, and I think Aunt Chrissy said that she got it at the Targets.

Hey, Shar! I found the Clip It Up online at a scrapbooking supply place. I think the name of the company is called "Simply Renee", but if you Google Clip It Up, you should be able to find it without too many problems.

Woo Hoo! Thanks for writing!

LOOK AWAY, BETTY! LOOK AWAY!

My email box blew up with requests for more pictures of the studio. Specifically, it would seem that you wanted more detailed pics of how I'm storing various and sundries up there in...well...you know where.

For those of you who wanted more photos, here they are. For those of you who don't, thank you for stopping by! Have a lovely Tuesday!

AND THEN...SHE HIT A NERVE

Oh my goodness! Y'all just ROCK my stupid little world with your nice comments! And considering the fact that I have been unable to lift my arms or bend any of my major joints ever since the cleaning marathon...you REALLY rock my stupid little world!

(Maybe that's how I will finally motivate myself to clean the rest of the house...."If I scrub this (insert thing that needs to be scrubbed here) to within an inch of its life and sweat through my terry cloth headband and bike shorts while doing it, maybe all of my stitchy friends will write nice comments that will make the impending pain of death palatable." Hmmmm. Could we be on to something here?)

The first thing I do want to do though is apologize for that post, especially if you thought it was a little too....um...brag-gy. I'm Catholic. Guilt is like breathing for me. So now that I've pranced around for three days going "Look at meeeeeee! Look at meeee!", I'm feeling the need to confess my sin of pride. For all of you out there who thought to yourselves "My God, what an obnoxious blog post", please know that I beat you to the punch.

(But I'm not unposting it.)

Thread storage seemed to be a hot topic. I store my threads according to way I use them. In other words, I keep all of the like with like. Those white three drawer thingies hold all my threads according to number (for things like DMC perle cotton), or alphabetically (for things like Weeks and Gentle Art). And then there's the drawer that says "Misc silk" because I don't really have enough of any one thing to justify a whole drawer for it. I also have a scrapbooking doo dad that I hang all of my Crescent Colours on, but the jury is still out on whether or not that's a very practical solution for me.

I also wanted to mention that zones are a huge thing for me. All that means, basically, is that I put all of the scrapbooking crap in one place, all of the beading crap in another, cross stitch, needlepoint...yadda yadda yadda and on and on and on until I have it in a way that I can find stuff. This really has no other purpose than to prevent me from going to the Michael's every ten minutes for crap that I already have and probably didn't need in the first darn place.

I am always waaaayyyy too happy to tell you all about the way I do crap up there, and I'll even try to give you the brand name of the doo dad that I'm using, but the thing I really really really want to say with full-throated voice and hand over heart is.....

It's all good, people. It's all good.

I don't care if your studio consists of the third shelf in a closet at the back of a storage shed in the middle of a corn field or if you stuff everything you own into a black plastic garbage bag and haul it around in a little red wagon. Anybody, and I really do mean anybody who picks up a needle, sticks a piece of thread through it, and then pokes it into something is OK in my book. And I don't care if you're stitching daffodils or unicorns or quilt patterns or fractals or the latest pictures from your Uncle Fester's colonoscopy. If you're stitching or tatting or knitting or scrapbooking or punching or hooking or doing anything else that remotely relates to this thing of ours, I will sit next to you all day long and secretly wish to be your friend.

So there you have it.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have bike shorts to don and a terry cloth headband to fish out of the "Things I Wore In 1973" bin. There's cleanin' to do!

YOU WERE THE WIND BENEATH MY BATWINGS

batwing (bat weeng) n. 1. the proturberating flesh of an aging spinster that hangs from the underside of her upper arm. 2. known to knock over small children, objects d' art, and anything else that happens to come into unfortunate contact with that particular part of the spinster.

So thanks to all of you out there in Stitchy Blogville who are getting your Spring Cleaning 2012 grooves on, I am proud to report that I too spent the last two days upstairs making the world safe for democracy.

The Spinster Sisters Stitching Studio has been cleaned to within and inch of its life. Phew!

In this corner, we have a lovely little chair that usually has a sleeping pup on its seat.

(You might notice, however, the pink baby blanket just to the right of the bookcase. This item must be perfectly fitted into the seat of the chair before You-Know-Who deems it an acceptable place for a snoozy nap.)

(Oh, and that little table? That was Mom's. The lid lifts up to reveal little cubbies for sewing items. Apropos, no?)

White walls! White ceiling! White Martha magazines in the endcap of the long table! Methinks we're going to have to do something about all of this white. Aunt Chrissy? Are you up for a trip to the Home Depots?

Ahhhhh, threads. And beads. And charts. And doo dads.

(And a really really crappy black desk chair that desperately needs to be taken to the curb on the next trash day.)

(Note to self. Ask Aunt Chrissy to assist, or you're certainly going to end up in the ER after falling down the steps carrying said chair.)What is it about all of this organizing that puts me into such a state of bliss? Is it the fact that I can now find everything I need? Is it my uncontrollable need to control everything to within an inch of its life? Have I taken this whole "I want to be just like everybody else and do everything they do and have everything they have" thing too far?

Only the Shadow knows for sure...

This next pic is for my friend Betty. Betty writes to me at least four times a week to tell me that she a) hates my ever-loving guts, and b) wishes that I would stop blogging about my crappy life and just show pictures of my crappy stitching. (Hi, Betty! Here I am! Picking up your gauntlet and running with it, girl! Write again soon! I can't wait to see what about me p***es you off tomorrow!)

This one's for you, Betty. This one's for you.

(Oh, and in case you were wondering, this is a WIP, which means that I'm also shamelessly copying THAT group of stitchers who decided to stitch their WIP's this year too!)

(How's THAT for a coherent sentence?)

That brings us to the end of the week, my friends. I hope that you're ready to rock the weekend, stitcher style! Stewey and I are planning a lovely little meatloaf and Merlot, and lots and lots of time in the Happy Chair! We hope your chair is a Happy one too and that you'll tell us all about it on Monday! Woo Hoo!

AND NOW A WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS

On behalf of precocious little dogs everywhere and the spinsters who love them....

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

Here's hoping that your day is filled with...well....LOVE!

THE PEAS ARE BACK IN THE FREEZER

Thank you for all of your kind and comforting comments about my little mishap. No worries, though, I have a very very hard head, and me being me means that I am quite used to these crazypants shenanigans.

(Stewey, however, now insists on the purchase of a MedAlert bracelet.)

(I think he just wants to hear me say "I've fallen and I can't get up", but what do I know?)

Here are a few pics of some of the stitchy-ness that happened over the weekend. I'm happy to report that the Winter/Spring Conflict of 2012 is starting to dissolve and that I'm able to stitch away without feeling too much angst, but in the event the Weather Channel is listening....FIX IT! On behalf of seasonal stitchers everywhere, may I just say that we have more winter stuff to do before we break out the Easter bunnies?!


I finally finished all of the block borders on Laura J. Perin's Stained Glass Windows. Now it's on to the fun part!

Aunt Chrissy is working on this one at the moment too, and because I'm still stuck in Single White Female mode, I just had to stitch it along with her.

If my arms didn't get so tired from holding these ginormous q-snaps, I'd probably have this one done already! It really is quite lovely to stitch, but my shoulders are getting a real workout!

Remember this one? It's a freebie chart from Laura J. Perin called This Heart's For You. I am in LOVE with that Watercolours color (which is Geranium), so I figured this would be perfect to play with tonight and tomorrow.
Hope your Monday is a happy one! Woo Hoo!

CLEAN FLOORS ARE SLIPPERY FLOORS, BY MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP HIS VERY LITTLE SELF

My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's sitting in the Happy Chair with a bag of peas on her head. She's also glaring at me with crazy eyes, but I'm trying to ignore that part of the tableau and just get on with my nap time.

It all started when she came from from the Targets a few weeks ago with new socks. Normally, the old lady opts for the bag of Hanes low rise "footie" socks in a sensible cotton, but this time she and Aunt Chrissy decided to get jiggy with it and she bought fuzzy socks instead.

And by fuzzy, I mean really really fuzzy. And soft too. I would say that these socks are reminiscent of my very own downy soft fur, but that wouldn't be quite accurate, since my fur is white and smells nice and these socks are black and do not.

Anywhoose, when Mo-ther took these socks out of the Target shopping bag, I said to her "Don't you think you should adhere some kind of safety strips onto the bottom of those things?", and Mo-ther snorted at me dismissively and said "There's enough crap on these floors to stop me from sliding around. Besides, safety strips on the bottom of these things would make them look like hospital socks. And I'm not going to wear hospital socks."

Ironic, no?

Had the old lady actually gone to said hospital for treatment of what I am sure is a concussion, she would, in fact, have been presented with...yes...you guessed it....hospital socks.

As it is, she's in the Happy Chair complaining of a headache and blurry vision after smacking her head on the hardwood. At 7:30 this morning she decided that she was thirsty and that she might as well start the day, so she hauled herself out of the big girl sleigh bed, put on the fuzzy Target socks, and proceeded to ice skate across the clean living room floor. Not a dust bunny in sight to stop my stupid mo-ther's momentum, and before I knew it I heard what sounded like a watermelon being dropped from a very tall building.

There was no blood, thank God, but you would think that a person has never fallen down in the world the way she's carrying on about it. She keeps talking about the fact that all of this silliness is Notre Dame's way of getting back at her for dissing their hideous new football helmets, since those football helmets are supposed to provide a safe and sturdy cushion for when the players fall down and smack their own heads.

So I suppose that in addition to the fuzzy socks and eighteen year old sweatpants that are the normal get-up around here, I can expect to see a shiny gold helmet bobbing around the place looking for trouble.

We're hurtling into the weekend and are expecting some snow. I don't know what this will mean in terms of stitching selections around here, but I promise to update you further as time allows. Until then, I hope that you have a warm and cozy and safe (!) weekend with you and yours and that you get to do whatever it is that your very own heart desires.

With love from your pal,
Stewey