BLOSSOM FEE NEE

Blossom

Carolyn Manning Designs

28ct Fog cashel

Gentle Art Dungarees, DMC 3865, 3790, 3033, ecru

YOU CAN'T ASK JESUS TO TAKE THE WHEEL AND THEN BITCH ABOUT HIS DRIVING

I keep my religous-ness pretty much close to the vest...not because I'm ashamed of it or out of some sense of guilty fear, but because it's one of the Big Three.

(The Big Three are the things one should probably just keep to oneself if one were to have any hope of playing well with others.)

(Oh, come on.  You know what they are: s-e-x, politics, and religion.)

But I digress...

I was talking to my Aunt JoAnn recently about a situation that has had me completely....vexed, and she said "Coni Jo, just give it up to God".

My Aunt JoAnn has given me other pieces of good advice over the years, especially the one about putting on your lipstick and just getting on with it, so I figured I'd give it a shot.  I don't normally do that kind of thing, since I always figured that the Big Man had a lot more important stuff to worry about than this idiot spinster bumble-clucking her way through things, and besides, I always figured that the best life philosophy was the one that told you to just sit in the back, keep quiet, and don't, under any circumstances, cause a stir.

But I digress again.

So as I soaked in the tub the other night I told the Big Man that I was just making a mess of this situation and that although He probably had other stuff like war and global warming to deal with, I could use a little help.

And then I remembered hearing one of the Housewives say "Jesus, take the wheel" and I thought that sounded pretty good.  So I did, and got on with things and patted myself on the head for matching advice from my Aunt JoAnn with something I saw on the TeeVee, since that just confirmed that the advice was sound and I was apparently watching the right channel.

Last night, as I was tossing and turning and fretting and worrying, Stewey popped his head out of the blankets and asked me what all the fuss was about.  So I tried to explain that I had recently decided to relinquish control over a situation and to just give it up to a higher power, but that I was a little frustrated at the path that was unfolding before me.

Stewey listened patiently, patted my hand, and nodded as if he understood and then told me that I couldn't ask Jesus to take the wheel and then bitch about His driving.

I sat in stunned silence.

He went back to sleep.

So, dear friends...give it up to God, listen to your Aunt JoAnn, and never, ever doubt that a nine pound Jack Russell terrier wearing a sleeping mask and a silk smoking jacket isn't truly the source of all wisdom.

Back to the Happy Chair today...we're closing in on a finish!

TOO BAD THEY DON'T REALLY FALL ONE AT A TIME

If life imitated art, the amount of snow we would have received today would have been three snowflakes instead of three feet.

OK, we didn't really get three feet.  It just felt like three feet as I tried to shovel a path for the boys to do their thing this morning.  I finally gave up and figured I'd deal with their thing in May.

I ventured out into the tundra last night for EGA and am glad I did.  Not only did I get to spend a few hours stitching three snowflakes, I also learned that I'm braver than I think (for leaving the house after dark and in bad weather), and I was treated to a hot chocolate by Miss Charlene.

It's a new thing...hot chocolate.  I hadn't really had it since I was a kid and Miss Charlene has introduced me to the joys of a steamy cup of it to set the world right.  After the gallons and gallons of tea that passed my lips during the Downton Abbey bingeing, this is a lovely change of pace.

I hope you are warm and safe and dry today, kids.  Here in Hoosierville we're hunkered down with blankets, some stitching, a few good movies....and hot chocolate!

AAAAHHHH...THAT'S BETTER

WHAT I ENDED UP STITCHING LAST NIGHT

AND THEN MY HEAD SPLIT OPEN AND IT WAS CONFIRMED...I AM A SPINSTER OF VERY LITTLE BRAIN

It's almost 5 pm and I am just hitting the Happy Chair with a vat of ice water, the TeeVee remote, and my stitching.  I spent the day in a meeting that required  me to listen to a room full of very very smart people, and I left it with a splitting headache and the sad realization that I am the living embodiment of the phrase "Every village needs an idiot".

I could have been a contender....although for what, exactly, I'm not entirely sure.

So thank you, dear friends, for a safe place to land once again.  It's nice to know that all it takes for me to feel semi-human again is a threaded needle and some stitchy peeps for company!

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go read a cross stitch chart and feel like a freaking rock star.

THE FRIDAY REPORT

Back to cross stitch!  This is "Blossom" by Carolyn Manning Designs.  Only the lower left corner and the crocheted snowflakes to go and this will be off to the framer!

(The crocheted snowflakes and lovely button centers come with the chart, by the way.)

NEW COCKPIT

For some reason, I find myself drawn to the dining room table today.  I seem to have set up a quasi desk area here, and the light is so pretty, I don't want to moveto theHappy Chair just yet.

Rather than fret about the mess, I think I'm just going to be happy I have a room to make one in!

FIRST FEE NEE OF THE YEAR....HOPEFULLY NOT THE LAST!

Laura J. Perin

Victorian Ribbons

18ct. mono canvas

Watercolours "Holiday", DMC #5 perle 890, 3345, 815, 612

Ribbon floss 148-21 gold, Ribbon floss red 

HIS NAME IS BOSCO

The addition to the little goat rodeo we call a family (Stewey and I) is Bosco Oliver Willowswamp.  He is 10 years old and is staying with us until his mother (my ex sister) comes back from wherever the hell it is she decided to go.

Bosco and Stewey are actual cousins because Bosco's father, Catfish Hunter and Stewey's mother, Headley are brother and sister.  All hail from the lovely confines of Willowswamp Farm in Ligonier, Indiana which you can access through a corn field if you're stupid like me and miss the turn.

Stewey and Bosco don't get along well, I'm afraid.  Bosco just wants to be loved and Stewey just wants world domination.  Together, they are a recipe for spinster disaster, but somebody needed to be the adult and live her life responsibly and it might as well have been me.

#mysisterisajackassandwilllivetoregretallofthissomedaybutinthemeantimeiamanonlychild

AND LO, A FROSTY MORN...

Oh, look at me, will you?  Trying to get all poety with it at 8:15 in the morning.

What has me up at the crack of dawn, you ask?  Well, when you're me and you go to one doctor on a Monday, all of the other doctors decide that they want to see you too.  So today I get to go play patient once again and re-assure everybody that, yes, I still live in the same place, I'm still the lovable and portly spinster they've grown so very fond of, and my insurance has not changed since yesterday.

But I ask you, dear friends.  Do they really need to weigh me every single tootin time?  If I weighed a gazillion pounds yesterday, don't you think I'll be pretty close to that today?  I'm sure there's some brainiac out there who could calculate this, but what are the odds that I'm going to get on the scale as a petite blonde triathlete today?

Victorian Ribbons will be completed today or I'm giving up stitching forever.  Absolutely no excuse for not stitching last night other than the fact that I couldn't figure out how to manage it, two sleepy puppies, a heating pad, a vat of ice water, and a bowl of  soup all together at once in the Happy Chair.

I am such an amateur.

Happy happy joy joy to you and yours today!  Do something spectacular and then tell us all about it.
Woo Hoo!

HOW COULD ANYTHING BE WRONG ON A BEAUTIFUL MORNING SUCH AS THIS?

Ahhhhh, snow.  Finally.  

I'm in the Happy Chair with two little heads peeking out of the cozy blanket:

And the snow is softly falling down:

I placed a call to my doc this morning, but haven't heard back yet.  I think I'm going to live, though, since I made it through the night without having to call the authorities, so that's a good thing.  

No stitchy update to report, I'm afraid.  I was completely enraptured with all things Downton and just couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen.  Tonight I will probably have withdrawl, since I just binge-watched five seasons of it, and the next episode isn't until next Sunday.

Heavy, heavy sigh.

**********

That was the blog post at 9:30 this morning.  At 9:31, all hell broke loose and I got to get dressed, pull my boots on, drive through a blizzad, and spend the day at the doctor's office.  Damn, drat, and phooey!  The good news is that I now know I should quit my day job and head for a career in medicine, since my diagnosis of diverticulitis was right on the money.  The bad news is that I'm going to add to my pill chest quite considerably with some new meds, and this spot of bother is in the exact place that I've been keeping wam and safe and dry for my new kidney.

Oh well, guess we'll just have to put it on the right side instead.

(Provided, of course, that I need to get a new kidney and don't spontaneously sprout a new one because it sounds like something fun to do on a Tuesday afternoon.)

Well, I suppose there's no reason to dwell...I'd rather just feel happy that I'm getting bad stuff out of the way so early in the year.  It can only get better from here....right?

P.S.  No more snow.  The sun is shining and it feels like it's about 40 degrees.

Somebody likes the view:

Not to be outdone in the cuteness department:

So that's it, my dear friends.  I wobble, but I don't fall down.

Well, unless you count that time in the driveway, but other than that...

Oh, wait a minute.  I seem to recall falling down getting out of bed recently.  

Hmmmm.  Maybe I should re-think that slogan and come up with something a little more accurate.  

How about : I wobble and fall down, but as God is my witness (you simply must say this while channeling your inner Scarlet O'Hara and shaking your fist at the sky) I arise yet again, armed with the knowledge that what I lack in ability, I make up for with sheer unbridled enthusiasm!

Onward!

DIVERTICULOWSA!

Right about this same time last year, I awoke in the middle of the night with a sharp, stabbing pain in my lower left tummy.

"Well, this is it"' I said to no one in particular.  "Something inside me has finally broken and now I'm going to die right here in the big girl sleigh bed." 

Stewey, of course, was nonplussed and grabbed his reading glasses and iPad.

"Mo-ther, I suspect that you are having an attack of diverticulitis.  Calm down, take a Tylenol, and call your family physician in the morning."

He was right, as he usually is.  I had a nice case of diverticulitis, which meant nothing more to me at the time other than the fact that a nut or seed or some other small non-digestible morsel had gotten caught in my plumbing and decided to hang around and have a nasty party for good measure.  An antibiotic, gallons of water, and a liquid diet later and I was none the worse for wear.

So when I woke up in the middle of the night this time with that exact sharp stabbing pain in my lower left tummy, I knew immediately what it was.

"Stewey, something has broken inside of Mommie, and she's going to die right here in the big girl sleigh bed."

This time, he grunted, rolled over, and fell back to sleep.

I'll call my doc in the morning, and then I'm sure I'll have to put my shoes and a bra on and go have them poke and prod and photograph and then poke some more, but at least I'll get a little love and sympathy from the trained professionals who will bill my insurance to do so.

The thing that bugs me, though, is that I can't for the life of me figure out what caused it this time.  I've been pretty good, food wise, and the normal culprits like popcorn and driveway gravel haven't been around for quite a while.  I mean, come on kids, when all you eat is EggBeaters and Oikos for a living, you don't figure to invite this kind of trouble.

Sheesh...when I was in my 20's I was a hot mess of bad food, bad habits, and bad lifestyle choices and I never felt better.  Now I'm three months, eleven days, and ten minutes away from turning fifty...I live like a marathon-training nun on an organic kale farm, and I can't get out of bed.

Somebody up there sure has a sense of humor.

Tonight...Downton and the very last stitches on LJP's "Victorian Ribbons".  Pictures tomorrow, I promise!

DOUBLE TROUBLE

Despite the seemingly peaceful nature of this picture, all h-e-double-tootpicks is about to break out.

"Where's the piggy?  Did you take the piggy?  What have you done with the piggy?"

One last ribbon to go!  I expect I'll finish this today right about the time I complete season five of Downton.  Ready for season six and the next stitchy project!  I'm thinking I might return to the tree with the crocheted snowflakes....remember that one?

Happy happy joy joy to you and yours today.  Do something fabulous and then tell us all about it!

O - H......N - D?

How the heck is a girl from Lima, Ohio who graduated from Notre Dame supposed to watch the Fiesta Bowl today without feeling a little nuts?

My heart is still in Ohio, despite the fact that I've lived here in Hoosierville longer than I've lived anywhere in my life.  And I don't need to tell you, my dear friends who know me so well, that despite my grumps every now and then, I do bleed blue and gold for my Irish.

But my Uncle Connie and dear Cousin David went to Ohio State, and as a matter of fact, David still works for OSU.  My high school classmates (many of them, anyway) are Buckeyes, and for as long as I can remember, my family had a friendly and funny rivalry with the Stallkamp family.

But Dad and I went to Notre Dame, and I have made my life here in Indiana because I couldn't bear to be far away from the Grotto, and this house is and has always been loyal to the Fighting Irish.

So I suppose I will hope for a tie and that both teams have fun, stay safe, and give us a good show.

Happy New Year, peeps!  Let's hope this is the biggest conundrum the Spinster Stitcher will have to face this year!









P.S.  I just looked up at the TeeVee and the score is 14-0, Ohio State.
COME ON, IRISH!  GET YOUR HEADS OUT OF YOUR HEINEYS AND BEAT THE BUCKEYES!!!

P.P.S.  Sorry, that just kind of slipped out.

HAPPY, HAPPY NEW YEAR, MY FRIENDS.

FUNNY BUNNY

MOVING RIGHT ALONG...OR, GOD BLESS US. EVERY. ONE.

We awoke to an ice storm, the sounds of neighbors leaving for work, and about a thousand comments and emails from friends both far and near making the world perfectly right once again.

Thank you, my friends.  I am ashamed that I let my crazy out, but very soothed by the fact that I am not the only person on the planet that gets her heart crushed over and over by the one person who is supposed to not do that very thing.  

We should form a club or something.

Moving right along...I am happily stitching away on Laura J. Perin's "Victorian Ribbons" in Christmas colors.  Many if you have asked about my colorway....the only changes I made were to the canvas (from ecru to red) and to the Caron Watercolours (from Camouflage to Holiday).  Other than that, I am using the DMC #5 perle cotton and the ribbon floss that Laura calls for.

I also got smart and decided to read and then follow the instructions carefully this time, rather than get cocky and just go off on my own little tangent.  LJP knows what she's doing when it comes to designing and charting and I absolutely do not, so by listening to the professionals I am simply enhancing my overall stitchy experience.  Amazing how that works!

We made it through seasons one and two of Downton Abbey over the last two days, and we have a very carefully calibrated schedule of viewing this week to get us ready for Sunday's premiere of Season Six.  Stewey is so relieved to finally have a little civilization back after months and months of Housewives and Kardashians, so he's been on best behavior and enjoying the glow of life in Yorkshire.

Given all of the changes around here lately, I can't blame him.

So we're off like a herd of turtles today, armed with cozy blankets, green tea, and lots of goodness and happy thoughts for company.  Thank you again, dear sweet friends, for all of your love and concern.  You've fixed what ailed me!

Onward!

EPIC PERIOD FAIL PERIOD

Question: How many Rich Sisters does it take to screw up a Christmas?
Answer: Two...Clark Griswold and The Antichrist.

Question: How was your Christmas, Spinster Stitcher?
Answer:  Fine...nothing a bottle of Tylenol and a certified mental health professional can't fix (provided that the certified mental health professional happens to be named Jack Daniels).

Question: Did you do anything special for the holidays?
Answer: Why yes, yes I did.  I became an only child.

Question: Hey, Spinster Stitcher!  Where's your sister, Aunt Chrissy?
Answer: I don't know.  I'm an only child.

Next year, I am going to throw a Christmas for all of the people in the world who just want to have a Christmas.  You know the types...full of love and good wishes and Yuletide cheer.  People who don't ask for much....just a little common courtesy and to be treated with just a smidgen of respect.  And, I'm going to make sure that everybody that comes to the Christmas knows that it's OK to be a total schmuck and hope that somehow, just once, this year will be different and that the people that are supposed to love you will know how to behave and not decide to be a colossal (*) instead.

There will be food and decorations and music and presents and so much happiness and joy you'll want to gouge your eyes out.  And then, just when you think you can't take it anymore, it will get better because you'll look around and realize that the person who has peed in your Cheerios and generally screwed up your life is off having a grand time with all of the other stupid selfish cruel Misfit Toys who deserve whatever sociopathic fun they've cooked up for themselves and you, my friend, don't have to have your heart broken yet again.

So, Merry Christmas to all of us Clark Griswolds out there in search of a good old fashioned fun family Christmas.  May our trees be brightly lit, our eggnog be eggnoggy and may our hearts continue to overflow with joy, wonder, and hope.

Did anybody, by any chance, get a time machine for Christmas that I could borrow?   I need a do-over...only this time I'm going to say "Sorry, no room at the inn" and just eat my Christmas brisket and twice-baked potatoes in peace.

(Oh, and I'm going to skip the part whereby I stand in the driveway and try to look authoritative in my Christmas pajamas.  It's hard to look authoritative in your driveway when you're covered in penguins wearing Santa hats and your shirt says "Chill".)

(My God.  The irony.)

Never fear, kiddos.  I am made of pretty hearty stock and promise to bounce back from this latest calamity toot sweet.  As soon as I finish my newspaper puzzles and have a couple of damn Greek cookies, I'm heading to the Happy Chair with needle and thread, my coloring book, and five seasons of Downton Abbey for company.  Season six starts on January 3rd, and besides...who couldn't use a little escape to the English countryside about now?

Here's hoping that your Christmas didn't have a Rich Sister in sight and that you got everything you hoped for and nothing you didn't.

Woo Hoo!
Coni


(*)  I had to delete what I had here originally after giving it a moment...you, my dear sweet friends simply do not deserve to have to read it.

 

 Merry Christmas, my friends.

May the joy, love, and peace of the season be yours.

With love,

The Spinster Stitcher and Her Little Dog, Too!

HO HO WOO HOO!

So there I was, minding my own business, when my fabulous new gastroenterologist said "Gee, Miss Rich.  I don't see any reason for us to have to do that colonoscopy next Wednesday.  Unless something comes up, I think we're good to wait another six months to a year."

And then, without thinking about the fact that this was a) my NEW gastroenterologist and, therefore, not yet fully initiated into what it means to have to deal with me, and b) that I was outside of my house and not, in fact, sitting in my Happy Chair wearing my eighteen year old sweatpants and old man Hanes t-shirt that I fished out if the bottom of the laundry basket...I jumped up, kissed him full on the face, and hollered WOOOOO HOOOOOO!

The truth of the matter is that the actual procedure doesn't bother me in the least bit, and the resulting confirmation that I've managed to dodge the colon cancer bullet a little longer is well worth having to eat green jello for a day.  I also do not fret the prep, since I read somewhere that Gweneth Paltrow spends a ba-jillion dollars a month to have somebody clean her plumbing for her, so I figure if it's good enough for Gweneth....

The part of the colonoscopy that I most dread is the prospect of somebody new being subjected to my heiney parts.  It took me damn near 20 years to get used to the idea that my old doc was going to have to witness all the glory that is me, and now I have to go through all of that with a new guy?  No, thank you....I prefer to succumb to that sweet sweet anesthesia drip with the comforting thought that the healthcare professionals assigned to my nether regions will NOT, in fact, require trauma counseling.

So it would appear that a Festivus miracle has happened right here in Hoosierville and I can remain fully clothed and unexposed for the duration.  Egg nog for everybody!

Stewey (and Bosco!) and I are doing laundry and housecleaning today in preparation for.....well, not much, actually.  We're going to be very very quiet at Chez Spinster this year, but I did promise a little field trip to view some Christmas lights if everybody behaves and we get our chores done.

Progress continues on Victorian Ribbons.  I promise a picture soon when it's not so darn gloomy that it makes everything look like we're living with the Addams Family.  I get it...we're not going to have snow for Christmas.  But does it have to be 48 and MISTing?!

SOMEWHERE MY MOTHER IS LAUGHING AND LAUGHING

I'm 49 years old.  This means that for at least the last 30 years or so I have attempted to make THE DAMN GREEK COOKIES for Christmas.

The damn Greek cookies are koulrakia...a very simple butter twist cookie that is sometimes made with orange juice, anise, or whiskey.

I'm thinking that the whiskey part is what I'm doing wrong every year, since by the time I finish making the damn Greek cookies I am in desperate need of a drink.

It always starts out with the best intentions.  I gather my ingredients, measure them carefully, and start mixing.

Here is where I should probably explain the part about my mom laughing and laughing.  First of all, my mom was a very funny person, and she took delight in silly things.  For example, she would probably think it hilarious that a 49 year old semi-accomplished baker like me throws a fit every year when she reads the recipe instructions....and they say "Get the dough so it isn't sticky and then roll the cookies like pencils and twist them."

That's it.  No order of addition of ingredients.  No oven temperature or helpful tips.  Just a crazyass sentence that was probably the exact way my mom was told to make the damn Greek cookies, so that's how she wrote it down.

This year, I found another random piece of notebook paper in my recipe box written in Mom's handwriting, and lo and behold....it almost looks like it could be more information: "Mix the butter and sugar and eggs together and then dump in the rest of the flavorings.  Put the baking soda into the orange juice...it will foam up.  Use a big box of Swan's Down Cake Flour."

Holy crap on a cracker, I really should have bought that whiskey.

Now before you tell me that I could just Google a proper recipe for koulrakia, or I could go to the Greek Orthodox Church here in Hoosierville and ask one if the nice Greek ladies to take pity on me and teach me how to make the damn Greek cookies....I've got one word for you.

Tradition.

My mom loved these damn Greek cookies and evey year that I go through this I think of her and how much she loved the holidays.  I laugh and laugh and wonder how I manage to get flour on the ceiling.  Every.  Single.  Year.  And when it's all over, I make a cup of coffee, give Stewey a bit of a damn Greek cookie, and I wish my mom a Merry Christmas wherever she is.

And I hear her laugh and laugh and tell me that next year we'll figure it out.

Tomorrow we're making Dad's favorite....the damn Italian cookies...cuccidati.  Stay tuned!

THIS IS GOING TO BE INTERESTING...

Stewey is out of surgery and did very well, thank goodness.  They emded up removing a total of four teeth and are flushing him with antibiotics for a nasal infection.  Poor thing...I guess the extent of the problem was a lot worse than we realized.  But, I only gave myself 30 lashes instead of 40 since I did get him in right away and didn't delay getting him back for the surgery.

That has to count for something.  Right?

Now the fun part comes.  I get to pick him up at 3:30 and bring him home to his apartment for 48 hours of rest and relaxation.  He can lounge in front of thr fireplace if he wants and can even have a puppy cup, but I think he will have to forego his weekly card game and cognac night with the boys.

Can I just tell you how happy I am that he has insurance?  I'm pretty sure that this is going to be a doozie of a bill, so knowing that a portion of it will come back is comforting, indeed.

That's it for now.  Thank you for holding my hand through this!  You really have no idea how much it helped!

Woo Hoo!
Nurse Mommie Ratchet

LOSING MY MIND...

It's been two hours, twenty five minutes, and seven seconds since I took my Little to the vet and I am climbing the walls.  I've cleaned the kitchen, bathroom, laundry room, and living room, washed the bedding and all of Stewey's blankets, organized paperwork, answered emails, paid bills, prayed a rosary, and made a vat of iced tea.

OK...here's the thing.  As much as I love to complain about him and pretend that he runs riot over Chez Spinster, the truth of the matter is that this house just isn't home without him in it.  Every time I turn around I'm looking for him to be lounging in front of the fireplace or back patio window, or standing by his cookie jar looking at it longingly.

This creature is my life.  He is, by far, the very best thing that ever happened to me and I don't think I could love him more if I had given birth to him myself.

Thank you for all of your lovely and supportive thoughts and prayers.  For pity's sakes....I am an idiot for thinking that this is a crisis on any level that requires so much attention, but I guess this is me we're talking about, so even the silliest thing turns into a Lifetime Television for Women movie of the week.

I'll keep you posted once the patient is home. 

Thank you again, dear friends, for your loving kindness!

OH, MY POOR BUBBE

Well, I thought we were just going in for a mani/pedi this morning, but as with most things in life, it was a little more complicated than that.  My poor bubbe has an abscess in his mouth that needs to be fixed, so he's going to have surgery on Wednesday morning.

I was doing just fine until the vet tech came out and said that they needed to see me back in the exam room.  (Normally they take Stewey back and do whatever it is they do and return him to me freshly pedicured and happy to see me.)  Today, though, I walked in to find him being cuddled by his favorite assistant with a look on his face that said "How could you let this happen to me?"

Good grief, Charlie Brown!  I broke out into the ugly cry and practically had to be sedated.

So, if you would, please keep us in your thoughts these next couple of days.  I'm sure Stewey will be fine...it's me I'm worried about!  I will take him in on Wednesday morning at 7:30 and should be able to pick him up later that day so nobody will need to supervise me overnight.

Do you think they would let me crawl up on the table and hold him during the surgery?

Oey....they really should make pills for this.

ANOTHER LOVELY WEEKEND SO FAR...

Boy, I am really being spoiled rotten with these lovely weekends!

Friday night was movie night for us.  Stewey's pick was a wonderful film called "Philomena".  I enjoyed it immensely, and was gutted when I learned that it was based on a real story, and was then TOTALLY gutted when I found out that the subject of the movie, Michael Hess, was a Notre Dame grad. 

Do you thonk it's a little nuts the way I think of anybody who went to Notre Dame as family?  I'm starting to wonder if maybe I need to re-think that policy, because I'm pretty sure that complete strangers would be a little put off by a portly, yet lovable spinster in Hoosierville calling them family and wondering why we can't just all get together and have dinner and fix the world.

Saturday was the Christmas luncheon for Elkhart EGA, and once agIn, I spent a few hours with my stitchy sisters.  We went to an Irish pub style restaurant in Elkhart that was right on the river.  Gorgeous!  And I had a Cobb salad that was so good it made me want to go back for one today.

But I didn't.  That would have meant putting clothes and shoes on, and I'm quite comfy in my jammies, thankyouverymuch.

Last night we watched the Reese Witherspoon movie "Wild" and then the Frank Sinatra Birthday Concert  I think I enjoyed the concert more than the movie, but Stewey was completely riveted by the idea of hiking the Pacific Coast Trail as a means of mourning one's mo-ther.  I told him not to get his hopes up, because I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, and besides, I don't think he'd do too well in the wilderness with nothing but a silk smoking jacket and a hoity toity attitude for company.

Here's the progress on Laura J. Perin's "Victorian Ribbons" with a Christmas colorway:

The red thread is hard to see, I know, but it really does look pretty in real life, I promise.

I hope that your weekend has been as swell as mine and that your needles are flying!

Woo Hoo!

Coni

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.................

This is absolutely positively NOT Santa Claus.  This is a handsome man with white hair and a beard wearing skinny jeans in the Yorkdale Mall in Toronto.

THIS, my friends, is Santa Claus thankyouverymuch and if I was at all hip #quitscrewingaroundwithcrapthatpreventsmefrombangingmyheadonthepavement:

I'm sorry, but Santa Claus is sacrosanct to this here spinster.  He is the only man on the planet that has a remote possibility of fulfilling my every need.

Except, maybe for this one:

You slap a Santa hat on HIM and we just might have a situation. 

 I'm just saying.

JUST A LITTLE STITCHY UPDATE..

Progress continues on Laura J. Perin's Victorian Ribbons.  I finished the outline while watching Homefires on Masterpiece....if you haven't seen it, I thought it was swell!

WEEKEND SPINSTER BLISS

Do you remember the Burger King commercial from about 25 years ago in which a guy has all of these happy things happen to him as he's walking along the street on his way to get a Whopper?  I think he finds his lost wallet, wins the lottery, and then his long lost dog falls into his arms, and when he gets inside the restaurant the voice-over says something about Fred and how happy he is to get things his way?

Well, that's been me this entire weekend.  I've just had one happy thing after another just fall right into my lap.

On Friday, the team that I've been "playing with" on a project these last few weeks decided that we are really doing quite well, and that our previous schedule could be altered a little bit to give us a small pause and catch our breath, rather than race to a pre-Christmas finish.  I was really getting nervous about being able to deliver on time, but now I can pump the brakes a little and get my wits about me.

On Saturday morning I was futzing around in the guest room, and I came across a pile of stuff that I vaguely remember setting aside a few months ago as "really important" and that needed to be sorted and organized.  Needless to say, this pile has been out of sight/out of mind for so long that I was half tempted to just chuck it all into the recycling bin and be done with it, but lo and behold, there was a savings bond in there from 1993.  I don't really know anything about savings bonds, so I figured that I would just ask the teller at the bank if it was worth anything when I stopped for cash on my way to lunch.   Not only was it worth something...it had gained a nice little chunk of interest too!

I then had the most lovely luncheon with my EGA ladies.  I belong to the Elkhart and South Bend chapters of EGA and the Hoosier Heartland chapter of ANG,  and have just recently become active again thanks to Miss Charlene.  This was the South Bend group's holiday party.  It was so nice to spend time with these ladies, and thanks to the suggestion on Miss Myrtis, I ordered one of the best salads I've had in quite a while...it had apples and bleu cheese and pecans and grilled chicken and the perfect balsamic dressing.  I got a great Secret Santa gift from Miss Beth and loved making new friends.  Throw Jeffrey Dean Morgan in there as a waiter, a fireplace with Stewey curled up in front of it, and take off the crazy high heeled boots I was wearing, and I never would have left the place!

Stewey and I had a perfect late afternoon snoozy nap with our faces in the sun, and then I watched movies and stitched until 2am!  This is Laura J. Perin's Victorian Ribbons with two substitutions: I'm stitching mine on red canvas, and I swapped out her called for Watercolours to Holiday.  Otherwise, I'm following the chart as is.

Oh, and the movies?  They just happened to be You've Got Mail and Moonstruck.  Somewhere, the teevee programming gods were in my head, I tell ya!

Today has been a quiet and happy day.  I managed to order my "book" for next year and I think I even got it with some stickers and free shipping!  I had so much fun playing with my Erin Condren day planner this year that I decided to give it a go for another year.  Yes, I look like a six year old with my stickers and coloring books and markers and whatnot, but if putting a pink laundry basket sticker on the calendar helps motivate me to wash my underclothes...who cares, right?  Besides, I'm not exactly running IBM over here, so no need to impress anybody in this particular boardroom.

(My CEO, Master You Know Who would probably applaud the use of stickers in my day planner as long as his every whim is met and his little smoking jackets remain in good supply. )

So that's the report, kids.  I'll leave you with a completely craptastic photo of sone winter/Christmas that I hung on the Big White Wall of Nothingness.

Here's hoping that your weekend was blissful, too!

Woo Hoo!

 

IN WHICH OUR HEROINE DECIDES THAT GETTING OUT OF BED IS HIGHLY OVERRATED

It's all your fault.

Yes, you read that right.  I am officially blaming each and every one of you for making it positively impossible for me to function like a normal human person in polite society.

With the exception of our dear friend Betty (who has been alarmingly quiet lately), you have petted and coddled and encouraged and loved and cooed gently and basically made me feel like the Queen High Exalted of the Whole Damn Universe every minute of every day.

You're kind to me, and you offer wisdom and tips and generosity to me in the form of messages and emails and letters and presents and prayers and sweet and considerate thoughts and companionship.

You know that old saying..."I'm in my own little world, but it's OK because they know me here" ?  Well, I live that motto.  In freaking spades.

I've had the opportunity to play in a different sandbox these last few weeks (doing a little helping as a volunteer for an organization).  The work has been exhilarating and quite a mental challenge for my tiny little brain, but so far I've managed not to make too much of a mess of it.  The problem, though, is that I am reaching for the duct tape every afternoon to prevent any more stupid crap from coming out of my face.  Today, after a conference call, I had to go into the bathroom and say to the portly spinster staring back at me: "Will you just get a grip already and stop thinking of these people as your  stitchy peeps?  These people don't "get" you, and since none of them are stitchers, they probably don't have the highly-developed tolerance for your nonsense and propensity for making up words that don't exist, but that you think are hi-lar-ee-us.  Stop acting like an idiot hermit spinster who hasn't had the good sense to leave her Happy Chair for nine years and act like you know what it means to be normal!"

This, of course, would have been even more effective had I not been delivering this speech in my eighteen year old sweatpants and purple fuzzy socks that are too slippery, but keep my feet warm.

(It was a conference call, kids, and I was participating from home.  Let's not get too nuts.)

Anywhoose...my whole point in all of this is that this thing of ours really is a safe place.  I tried watching the news tonight and found myself hollering at Lester Holt as if he could hear me, and I made the mistake of looking at the Facebook, and all I got was a lot of vitriol.  But the very moment I click on that little Blogger button, I know that the troubles of the world will wash away and that I can put the duct tape away...at least for another day.

Thank you for that, my dear friends.   There aren't a lot of safe places left to fall these days, so believe me when I tell you how much I appreciate this one.

Finally, a note from Stewey:

Ditto.

IN WHICH OUR HEROINE FALLS DOWN

I know that I'm getting older (ahem), and I know that I'm not exactly what you would call "in shape", but is it too much to ask that I have the ability to get out of the big girl sleigh bed to use the powder room in the middle of the night without falling down?

Stewey laughed so hard he gave himself the hiccups.

Seriously, though...I think that the physical exertion of decorating the outside of the house, combined with the fact that I must have been sound asleep and not fully in control of my senses or something caused the latest calamity.  All I know is that I threw the blankets aside, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and then hit the floor like a sack of doorknobs.  I looked like the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy cuts him down from his post and he goes completely jelly-legged.

Sheesh...it's not easy being me.

I'm off to soak in a hot epsom salt bath, armed with a couple of Tylenol and a book.  Never fear...Stewey has his iPhone at the ready in the avent of catastrophe.

I swear, 50 can't get here fast enough!

LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOW...BUT ONLY AN INCH OR TWO, PLEASE

 I awoke to the smell of gingerbread, the sounds of Christmas music, and the sight of Stewey in his little Martha Stewart craft apron affixing ribbons to pinecones.

"Mo-ther. Today is the day that you are going to put your shoes on, find a suitable pair of old lady sweatpants, fix your hair, and go outside to decorate the house for Christmas.  You've had a week and a half in the Happy Chair with your coloring book and your turkey sandwiches...now it's time to throw a little bit of good cheer around and hope that the neighbors will let us stay here another year."

I had decided to forego decorating this year, but Little Lord Fauntleroy made a good point.  My neighbors are subjected to me and my crazypants outfits and my bleary-eyed trek to fetch the paper every day, as well as the weekly argument we have as to what constitutes proper trash recepticle organization.  (For the record, I don't think that the recycling guy gives two hoots that I put the damn bin at the left edge of the driveway instead of the right edge, because he flings it smack dab into the middle, once emptied, regardless of where it starts out.)  

But this is Stewey we're talking about, so I quickly calculated that there would be NO peace to be had here at Chez Spinster until the annual tarting of the homestead was complete.

Two hours of grunting and sweating and cursing later:

I know.  Pitiful isn't it?  I think it looks much better after a few inches of snow.  And at night  And if you close one eye, stand on your left foot, and view the entire mess from the other side of town.

The good news is that my neighbors really do appreciate it, and I will too when I take You Know Who out for his evening constitutional.

I just hope he doesn't notice that the bows are all crooked and half the lights don't work.

LIST, SCHMIST

So I decided to throw out the to do list and just...be.  Stewey reminds me that this new policy looks amazingly like the old policy, but I'm all for a little do nothingness for a while longer.

Here's last night's progress on Copper & Turquoise:

And here are a few pages from my coloring book.  This one is called "Balance" from Angie Grace.  I'm still using the Bic Mark Its, but every now and then I throw a Sharpie in there for good measure.  I am, however, doing my level best to resist the temptation of Copics, since I think they are more of an investment than this amateur is ready for.

That's the report for today.  Not a "should" in sight!  The laundry, housecleaning, decorating, and baking will be there for me to ignore again tomorrow.  To the Happy Chair!

ACK, FRIDAY

I really need to stop writing to do lists.

Today was suppsed to be a laundry, housecleaning, bed-changing, Christmas decorating, cookie baking day.

Instead, I slept in, read the paper, drank coffee, took a shower, and did the Jumble, Sudoku, and crosswaord.  I took my meds, had a turkey sandwich, watched a movie, and am now contemplating a nice long nap.

I keep trying to convince myself that it's OK to have a lazy day, but Stewey informs me that it's only OK when it's the exception rather than the norm.

Can I just point out that HE  has been snoring away in front of the fireplace for the better part of three and a half weeks?

Oh well.  It's gloomy and cool outside and the last time I checked Her Royal Highness, The Queen of England had better things to do than to come disapprove of my homekeeping skills, so I guess I'll give it a rest.

Here's hoping that YOUR Friday is considerably more interesting...and productive.

TURKEY EVE

It took longer to stand in line at the Honey Baked Ham That Has Turkey That Tastes Like Ham store than it did to buy provisions for tomorrow's feast.  Stewey and I are ready....coffee, the paper, and a mini quiche while watching the parade, and then all of the normal stuff for dinner.

I am, however, completely ashamed to confess that I had a turkey sandwich for dinner tonight, thus breaking all kinds of tradition by indulging a day early.  I couldn't reist the idea of a Siggie Special...turkey, mayo, celery sticks, salt and pepper on Pepperidge Farm white bread.  I guess the fact that I only have them once a year gives me a pass...right?

Copper & Turquoise is coming along quite nicely:

Ideally, I will complete this one soon so that I can start to think about the Spinster Stitcher Basket O' Yuletide Fun.  For some crazy reason, I am really looking forward to it this year.  I've even started planning my baking, decorating, and shopping!  Friday was going to be outside decoration day, but the forecast calls for rain, so methinks we might do a little inside decorating that day instead.

Or I could just take a nap and have another turkey sandwich.

If you're celebrating, I hope that your table is overflowing with love and health and happiness!  If you're not celebrating, I hope that your table is overflowing too.  

Happy Thanksgiving, all!  I'm thankful for you!

OH, BEAUTY!

This is the first time that I can remember our first snow fall of the season being so significant.  They say we got nine inches.  I believe them!

Progress on Copper & Turquoise:

 Yesterday was a bit light in the productivity department.  I managed to make goulash, eat goulash, and stitch.  Today, I think, will be more of the same!  After all, isn't that what Sundays are for?

SATURDAY SPINSTER BLISS

The view from my Happy Chair cockpit is so swell, I almost can't stand it. The only thing that would make it any better would be the addition of Jeffrey Dean Morgan in the kitchen...baking scones...in his underpants.

I found the notepad in the Target dollar bin, and couldn't pass it up since it was a) a dollar and b) matches my favoite winter coffee mug.  Starbucks French Roast is the last vice I have left:

Can I just tell you how happy I am that I managed to get all of the patio stuff inside earlier in the week? (I also cleaned the garage to within an inch of its life, but that's a story for another day.  Suffice it to say....it's actually cleaner than the inside of the house, so I'm contemplating moving out there for the duration).

I wish it would stay just like this....pretty, fluffy, and white....until March:

I know, I know...you've seen this view so many times before that you're probably ready to delete me from your Palm Pilot.  There's just something about my Stewey Little toasting himself in front of that fireplace that makes me feel like everything is right with the world.  

And besides...who doesn't love a little Snoopy dressed up as Santa Claus as an early holiday accessory?  (You should know that he managed to find Snoopy all by himself.  I have not yet transistioned his toy basket from Autumn to Christmas.)  (Damn dog.)

That's the story for today.  I am determined to stay in this chair...stitching and reading and contemplating and whatnot.

I hope that your Saturday is equally as blissful!

A LITTLE START

OK, it's not much, but the center of Copper & Turquoise is in.  As soon as I get my chores done for the day and then re-organize my stitchy stuff, I'm going to hit the Happy Chair for some therapy.  I noticed that my dvr thingie is almost full, so it looks like I need to catch up on my TeeVee viewing and clear the darn thing out!

Why do I need to re-org the stitchy stuff, you ask?  Well, it's because SOMEBODY pointed out that he can't find his favorite reading glasses due to the untidiness of our current basket of stuff/crap:

His assistant informed me that he will supervise from the cozy confines of the Magic Blanket:

 Damn dog.

Happy Wednesday!  

OPA!

Do you remember when I used to take pictures for this blog with an actual camera?  I'm not sure that the quality was any better than the pic posted below, but I'm too snoodled up under the magic blanket to go remedy the situation.

This is Copper and Turquoise by Needle Delights Originals and I'm sitting here like a little kid on Christmas Eve wanting to tear into it.  I've been petting the threads for an hour now and just can't get over the fact that this combination has grabbed my attention so.  I think that all of the coloring I've been doing has really expanded my horizons.

Last Saturday I went on a little stitchy shopping trip and my travel companions are still talking to me!  It was hard to NOT be me for the day, but I did my very best and managed not to end up on the side of the road thumbing it for a ride home.  We went to Designer's Desk in Geneva, Illinois.  If you've never been....well, all I can say is....put it on your list.

We went to Greek Islands for lunch, and I'm mortified to tell you that I had not one clue as to what we were eating.  Thank God for Miss Jane and her extensive knowledge of the menu, and for her tact in not pointing out that I'm Greek for crying out loud...how could I not know what a dolmides is?  All I do know is that it was a real treat!  Thank you again, Miss Jane!

Tomorrow I will have to sneak out of the house early to spend the day with Miss Charlene and my Hoosier Heartland guild friends.  If Stewey finds out where I'm headed, he'll throw a tizzy of epic proportions and I will never hear the end of it.  Miss Charlene is one of very few humans that Stewey loves in real life...he's devoted, of course, to all of you (his faithful and devoted readers), but the mailman or the neighbors or the nice lady at PetSmart that always insists on giving him a cookie and patting him on the head?   Not so much.

Here's hoping your needles are flying!

Woo Hoo!

CAN I GET A HALLELUJAH FROM THE CONGREGATION?

I am happy to report that the two fantabulous donut puff zeppole thingies are the ONLY two that I've had since making the darn things.  Photographic evidence, as certified by Master Stewey Angus Willowswamp, His Very Little and Official self follows:

I read that loss of appetite might be one of the side effects of one of the meds that I take, but I just laughed and laughed and laughed at the very thought of that.  Now I'm starting to think that there must be some cosmic shift of things in the universe that's brought us to a time when I, the very rotund but loveable spinster that you've come to know and love (um, I mean tolerate), has been able to not eat an entire container of fantabulous donut puff zeppole thingies in one sitting.

Woo to the Hoo, people.

Woo to the Hoo.

I DID A BAD BAD THING

What evil genius figured out that you can take a can of Pillsbury buscuits, cut them in quarters, deep fry them, cover them in cinnamon sugar, and then go face first into delishiousness all within four and a half minutes?

I've had two.  Two little puffs of mmmmm mmmmm good that will last me for at least a month because this is the new me that exercises self control and has the discipline to avoid polishing these off while standing at the kitchen counter.

(As soon as I finish typing this, Stewey is going to hide them from me....I swear.)