ALMOST THERE...

A few more hours, and I think this one will be complete!  

Stewey and I decided to watch "Love Story" last night.  I didn't quite get what all the fuss was about.  Stewey, of course, wept copiously into his little handkerchief.  

Hmmmm.  Must be something wrong with me.

I hope that your weekend is filled ith everything you want it to be!  Stewey is hosting his ladies' luncheon on Saturday and I am going to stitch with Miss Charlene, Miss Jane, and Miss Myrtis!  

Woo Hoo!

OPI RED...WHO KNEW?

Last September, I got the bright idea that I was going to start being a big girl, and that I would paint my nails with a different color each month.

(I also decided that I would try to conduct myself like a real grown person who was raised indoors and should know better, but...baby steps, people.  Baby steps.)

January was supposed to be a lovely icy grey blue, but ended up being more navy-ish by the time the end of the month rolled around.  I think the verdict is still out on whether or not I am cool enough to carry off a fashion color like that....the memory of my dear departed mother says "Absolutely, not, Constance JoAnn!".  The twelve year old geeky bookworm trapped inside me says "Like, totally rad, dude!"  So, the blue goes in to the basket until next year.

For February, I decided that I wanted the perfect red.  This might not seem like a tall order, considering that most cosmetic companies offer a gazillion shades of the color, but when your skin tone is somewhere between ecru mono canvas, an old banana, and a brown paper sack depending on the lightng, this can be a challenge.

So in pops Laura J. Perin with the solution.  I don't know if it's a trick or not, but all of this time spent playing with Valentine Wreath convinced me that if I could just find red nail polish the same shade as the bow, I would be happy as a clam.

Enter OPI Red.

Probably the first color they ever made, and judging from the age of the bottle in my beauty closet, probably in my colllection all along without me knowing it.

Ahhhh, stitchy peace brings manicurial delight!  I am chuffed...feeling like a lady with my red nails and toes, and over the moon that all things stitchy and spinstery are matchy matchy!

Woo Hoo!

HE'S STILL GRIPING ABOUT HIS BREAKFAST

You switch a dog from English Breakfast tea and toast in the big girl sleigh bed to a vitamin and a couple of cookies on the ottoman and you hear about it for days.

Damn dog.

TUESDAY TUESDAY

I didn't get started until late last night, but I did manage a little progress before it was time to hit the big girl sleigh bed:

Amazing how it's really starting to look like a wreath!

MONDAY MONDAY

I finished the hearts on Valentine Wreath and moved on to the greenery.

One note of advice, though...don't try to smoosh that last heart in there while simultaneously watching Downton.  I must have stiched and frogged it seven times before I had to hit the pause button.  I suspect that my bow might be one or two threads off kilter, thus throwing off that last little bit.

But I think the end result is still fine, and now I'm happily stitching the green background!

Stewey is unhappy with his breakfast selection this morning.  He feels strongly that a lovely tray of tea and toast should be presented to him in the big girl sleigh bed.  Instead, he gets a milkbone presented to him on the living room rug.

Oh, the indignity.

IN WHICH WE DEFINE PARTY HATS

Gentlemen, please avert your eyes.

OK.  Are they gone?

Girls....the party hats are tiny little band-aid type devices that often have little metal beebees in them. They are affixed to the nipples as markers for the radiologist, since sometimes nipples can appear as abnormalities on the mammogram.  I think they also use them for moles or other areas that they want to mark to avoid a mis-reading of the picture?

Sorry for the very non-technical explanation.  It's all I could find on the internets.

And sorry for saying nipples twice (uh, I mean three times) in this post.

WHY YOU REALLY NEED TO DIAL DOWN THE CRAZY WHEN YOU'RE ON A FIELD TRIP

You really can't take me anywhere.

Yesterday's adventure was completely uneventful from a medical standpoint (at least I hope so and will find out in about a week), but it did confirm the fact that, like Tylenol, I should have come with a warning label:

"Warning! Spinster should be taken in small doses.  Overexposure may lead to having to suffer through fits of hysterical blathering meant to deflect awkward situations, but really only add to the circus-like atmosphere of having to examine the pendulous attachments of one very giggly, shy, chatterbox idiot who can't stop muttering about field trips, amusement parks, and Happy Meals."

I was doing just fine..reading my book in the waiting room, then changing into the capelet and promising that I didn't slather on deoderant or powder, and even when I was signing the form that said this was  just a routine visit. (Hello?  You've met me.  Is anything I do ever routine?)

But the minute the technician came at me with the nipple stickers (I'm sure there's a term for them, but all I know is that taking the damn things off is more shades of grey than THIS portly gal ever bargains for)...I immediately burst into a fit of nutso and blurted out "Oh, look girls!  Party hats!"

Yeah...that definitely broke the ice.

The poor tech looked like she wanted to call for backup and it was all business after that.  They really should award her combat pay for having to deal with the likes of...me.

So today will be a lesson in being q.u.i.e.t. and getting back to some stitching.  The sun is shining and Stewey is snoozing happily in his little window bed.  At some point I'm going to have to ride the vacuum around this place and hit the market for provisions, but for now methinks a few hours of solitude might be just what I (and the rest of the world) needs.

Have a spectacular weekend!  Here's hoping YOUR party hats are the non-adhesive kind!

TAKING THE GIRLS ON A FIELD TRIP

Today is mammogram day.

This means that I am frantically fishing through the closet for something suitable to wear.  As much as I would love to just throw a coat over my pajamas, I'm pretty sure that the nice people out there in Hoosierville haven't done anything to deserve that.

Besides...this is the one day a year that the girls get to see the light of day and go on a little adventure and ride a special ride in the radiology amusement park, so I want them to feel suitably festive for the occasion.

So underpants and bra it is.  And, if my expedition proves sucessful in the depths of the closet, I might even find a nice sweater and some clean jeans to complete the ensemble.

Don't worry, kids.  All manner of things shall be well.

And afterwards I'll buy the girls a Happy Meal!

GETTING THERE...SURELY BUT SLOWLY

THE RETURN OF FUTZINGDAY

Here's a brief look at what my universe consists of today (minus one very fussy little dog who simply refuses to be photographed without his glam squad present):

Eating (not in the picture): Greek yogurt with granola and dried cranberries

Drinking (also not in the picture, but there, I promise): Starbucks French Roast with Truvia and a splash of half and half

Stitching: Valentine Wreath by Laura J. Perin

Exercising: The Jumble, Sudoku, and crossword from today's paper  (Wait...you didn't actually think I meant exercising, as in do something other than sit in the Happy Chair, did you?  Remember, I'm an Olympic gold medalist in sloth, folks.  Gotta keep in shape for Rio.)

Reading: Just finished "A Strangeness In My Mind" by Orhan Pamuk

Planning : Added a list of errands that I need to run (like go to the library to get another book to read), as well as several calls I need to make into Erin. (That would be my Erin Condren Life Planner thankyuverymuch).

Cooking: A feeble attempt at minestrone is bubbling away on the stove, but I'm not optimistic.

Cleaning: Don't you think it adorable how I keep putting this on my list, but end up taking a nap "instead?  Dust bunnies....just part of the charm of Chez Spinster.

What's going on in your universe?

COZEE COZEE COZEE ON A TUESDEE TUESDEE TUESDEE

Good morning!

Well, judging from your comments, it would seem that my blue nail polish was a hit.  I confess that I feel rather silly trying to be cool and hip while doing nothing but sitting in my Happy Chair wearing pajamas, but it's nice to know that if I ever do leave the house again I won't have to hide my fingertips.

(And yes, in case you were wondering...my toes are also blue because I am a bit nuts about the whole matchy matchy thing and can't stand to have disparity anywhere.)

(This is also the reason why, for many years, I always made sure that my underclothes matched.)

(Now, I'm just happy if I can manage to harness the girls adequately for public review, and that my ample backside is appropriately covered in yards and yards of sensible Fruit if the Loom white cotton  expandable fabric thankyouverymuch.)

Today we are experiencing a lazy but cozy Tuesday.  Stewey is sacked out in front of the fireplace and I am a bit troubled with some Crohn's/tummy issues.  Nothing to fret about...this happens from time to time when I Iet the world get the better of me.  All it means is that I need to drink plenty of fluids, destress my tiny little brain, and forget about anything that doesn't make me run through a meadow belting out a happy tune.  So that means heavy doses of good TeeVee, some Gatorade, more stitching, a little bit of coloring, and some very definite stitchy blog stalking today.  Nothing too earth shattering...just all of the stuff that makes my pitiful little heart sing.

Speaking of...here's the progress on Valentine Wreath and the latest page from my coloring book:

Here's hoping that your Tuesday is off to a good start.  Do something wonderful and tell us all about it! WooHoo!

IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME

I'm getting jiggy with it in my old age.

Blue nails?  Sure...why not.

What started as an experiment to see if I could keep my hands out of my mouth has turned into a monthly quest for a "signature color".

The only problem is that I didn't  take into account that the hands on Pinterest were those of lovely well-groomed professinal hand models and not the meathooks of a portly spinster who should know better.

Don't worry...this will get vetoed as soon as You Know Who wakes up and it will be off to the Walgreens for some industrial strength clear Sally Hansen.

THE SUNDAY SPINSTER REPORT BY MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP, HIS VERY LITTLE SELF

My Mo-ther can't come to the blog right now.  She's soaking in a hot tub and reading her library book. I decided to write today's post because I have been so in need of the comfort (and attention) of you, my very dear and faithful friends.

The last several weeks were a bit...fraught around here.  Mo-ther has suffered some terrible blows to her pitiful little heart and also endured a bout of tummy trouble that landed her in hot water with the medical powers that be.  I tried very hard to get the old lady off the ceiling in terms of her stress level, but alas, I was unable to do so without the help of Miss Charlene, a couple of great aunts, and an entire bag of peanut M&M's that I cleverly disguised as sedatives.

I think a seven day binge watch of Downtown Abbey also helped tremendously, since we have returned to our afternoon tradition of tea and a sensible cookie, so at last, all is right with the world once again.

My little cousin was here for quite a while, and although I did my level best to ignore him, we had a rather nasty spat as he was saying his goodbyes, and I ended up with a rather gruesome gash on my left ear.  Mo-ther was horrified, but I feel that it finally lends me an air of street cred that had heretofore been missing.  If nothing else, it gives me an interesting story to tell at the club, and my fellow card players might now see me in a more respectful light.  After all...how many of THEM can say they were involved in a bar fight?

Progress continues very nicely on Aunt Laura J. Perin's "Valentine Wreath".  I am particulary happy that Mo-ther has been diligently following the chart and notes on this one rather than going off to do her own thing...which, as you all know, invariably ends in disaster.  But...so far, so good:

Miss Charlene and Miss Jane deserve a gold star for taking Mo-ther out of the house yesterday.  I sent a text to Miss Charlene earlier in the week asking her to babysit, and she happily did so for me.  I just needed a few hours of alone time here in the house to decompress from all of the holiday and other nonsense, and besides, getting away from Mo-ther's fretting and hand wringing was critical to my mental state.

Any time Mo-ther spends time with her Stitchy Sisters she comes home completely renewed, and yesterday was no exception.  It was also quite a success in terms of the Spinster Stitcher Basket O' Wintertime Fun, since she added a few cool pieces.

First up is a companion to the lovely Carolyn Manning Designs tree that she completed a few weeks ago.  This one is called "Sparkle" and also has a few crocheted snowflakes to attach.  Mo-ther is going to stitch this on the same linen that she used for the previous piece and will probably also use the same thread colors so that she can hang them as a set:

Looking to February, Mo-ther decided that she would do this piece once the Valentine Wreath is finished.  It is also by Carolyn Manning Designs and Miss Joy at House of Stitches found a gorgeous piece of Sprite cashel linen for it.  The chart calls for Plum Blossom Jobelan, but that particular hue didn't quite blow Mo-ther's skirt up.  So, Miss Joy to the rescue!  Threads have not been selected for this one yet, but Mo-ther is toying with the idea of varieagted silks from her stash.  Either way, it will mean a lovely afternoon of thread petting and selecting.

The needles were  purchased because after almost ten years of stitching and knowing better, Mo-ther discovered that she was down to the last single needle  in sizes 22 and 24.  How this happened, I will never know, but the situation has now been remedied and the needle drawers are adequately full once more

That's the report for today, dear friends.  I am going to return to my cozy spot in front of the fireplace and catch a snoozy until it's time for Downton.  I do hope you are having a spectacular weekend and that you know I remain your loyal and devoted servant.

With love from your pal,

Stewey

HOW MUCH BLISS CAN ONE SPINSTER HAVE ON A SATURDAY?

Oh, happy happy joy joy.

Stewey and I had a good night's sleep, followed by a wonderful Saturday.  Miss Charlene and Miss Jane picked me up for lunch and a trip to House of Stitches, and now I'm headed to the big girl sleigh bed for a snoozy nap with my face in the sun.

I don't think it would be possible for me to be any happier than I am now....ahhhhh, peace.

Tonight...leftovers from lunch (Gyros), and stitching stitching stitching!  Miss Charlene gifted me a needle threader, so I can't wait to try it.  Believe it or not, I've never used one before, and I think I'm going to love it.

I'll show you my little haul tomorrow, I promise....nap time awaits!

AND THEN THERE WAS ONE...

Our little goat rodeo is back to one Mommie and one Stewey as of about ten minutes ago.  Bosco finished his little staycation and left with his pink blanket and night night bed, but has promised to send the bat signal if he needs a cuddle from his Aunt CJ.

Stewey is thrilled to have my undivided attention once again, but I sure am going to miss my puppy sanwiches!

Back to the Happy Chair and LJP's Valentine Wreath!

ALMOST HALFWAY...

YIPPEE....IT WASN' T A DREAM!

You know how you'll do something under the influence of a substance and think it brilliant, only to wake up the next day to video evidence that you do not, in fact sound like Adele when you drunkenly belt out a tune, but rather, you are just a ridiculous tipsy spinster with underpants on her head and a hairbrush microphne?

Oh wait...too much information?

Well, when I finally hit the pillow at 4am I wondered if my buzz stitching was going to result in me driving the car over something, or if I really did manage to try something new and achieve success.

Turns out that I am as happy with my bow in the light of day as I was in the wee hours of the morning...dancing around with that hairbrush and those underpants on my head.

Thank God for small favors.  This one would have really been an epic fail to correct with all of that...velvet! Let's not even think about the red fuzzy crumbs that would have surely resulted in Stewey running away from home...

As soon as I get my financial house in order and have a bite to eat,  I'm going to get right back at this in the Happy Chair!  Progress contnues as we march onward!

DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME, KIDS. I'M A TRAINED PROFESSIONAL.

Miss Charlene picked me up at 6:15 for Guild this evening.

At 6:45 I drank a Venti skinny nonfat peppermint mocha latte.

It didn't have whipped cream, but I suspect that there might have been five or six extra shots of expresso in there, because I find myself ready to solve the world's problems at 1:45 am.

am.

As in the morning.

But the happ happ happiest news of all is that I have completed the big red bow on my Valentine Wreath!

Here are the first few steps.  I used a Sharpie to draw the bow on the canvas by carefully counting and following the chart. (Those are the purple and orange marks that you see in this picture:

Next, I stitched long vertical stitches with perle cotton randomly, being careful to stay one thread inside the outline. These long stitches will act as padding for the bow and will give it a little dimension:

 

When the padding stitches were complete, I stitched the dark parts of the bow with the called for Very Velvet V213:

And then finally added all of the rest of the bow in long horizontal stitches with Very Velvet V282, also as per the chart:

Overall, I am totally pleased with the result.  This was my first time marking canvas with markers, padding stitches with perle cotton, and then stitching with Very Velvet.  

Good thing I had all that caffeine to fuel my efforts.  Maybe I'm on to something...

HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PLAN

In an effort to get my proverbial house in order, I decided to set about the task of organizing and spritzing and putzing and futzing my way into tidy nirvannah by the end of the week.  Today is a nothing day, of course, because after all of that list writing and pondering over the state of things, I needed a day to go to bed and pull the covers over my head.

I am, however, going to take a bath, put my shoes on, and head to guild tonight, so I do get at least one point for doing something besides imitating a turtle today.

Tomorrow I'm going to get my financial house in order by setting up a proper bill paying basket area. Dropping the mail into a big pile and then getting to it when I get to it isn't exactly a good way to manage one's self, it would seem, since I keep misplacing things like my checkbook and utility bills.

Thursday and Friday are going to be housecleaning days for this poor slovenly spinster, and as God is my witness, I will end up with clean baseboards or I'm going to move.  I've promised myself to take it one room at a time and to allow two days instead of one to do a thorough cleaning, but given the depth of dust and other debris around here, it might take me that long just to fire up the bulldozer.

I blame Stewey and Bosco for this latest state of mess around here, since neither seems willing to put away their toys, throw away their half-eaten bones, or put their cocktail glasses in the dishwasher. I swear, it's like living in a Jack Russell fraternity house around here.

I'm happily stitching away on Miss LJP's Valentine Wreath, and if all goes according to plan I'll have a pretty good update for you soon.  I'll be very excited to get this one finish-finished, since there have been so many great ideas about making it into an actual padded wreath.  And, since we're doing all of these different wreaths in guild, methinks I just might have a new centerpiece for the seasonal displays on the Big White Wall of Nothingness!

That's the report for today, my dear friends.  I hope that you are doing exactly what you want to be doing today and that you're warm and safe and dry while doing it!

MOVING RIGHT ALONG...

Six hearts down, many many more to go!  I'm really enjying this one thus far and am following the directions and notes from Miss Beth (an ANG guild sister) faithfully.  

Amazing how much easier life can be when you leave the heavy liftng to the professionals!

SUNDAY SPINSTER BLISS

It's cold and blustery today.  Bitterly cold.  Bitterly blustery.  I've got a roast in the crock pot doing its thing, the fireplace set to Toasty! and LJP's Valentine Wreath for company:

And two little supervisors who insist on competing for my attention and Happy Chair space:

SATURDAY SPINSTER BLISS

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Exhibit Stewey Little, King of My Universe:

As soon as I finish the crossword puzzle and empty the dishwasher I'm off to market for provisions!  Time for vegetable soup, cheese, and crackers for the week!

WooHoo, Saturday!

NEXT MAN IN!

I know we're still celebrating January and I promised not to rush the seasons this year, but next up is Laura J. Perin's "Valentine Wreath".  This is a project that we're stitching in the Hoosier Heartland chapter of ANG and I wanted to get a good start on it before the next meeting.

It's a gloomy gloomy day here in Hoosierville, so after a hot bath and a few loads of laundry, methinks that the Happy Chair is going to get a good workout!

Do something fabulous today and tell us all about it!

Woo Hoo!

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.