SATURDAY COCKPIT

Vitamin water...check

Toasty fire and Notre Dame game on the TeeVee...check

Stewey's little box on its perch in front of the tree...check

Newspaper read, now on to the puzzles...check

It's a really good thing I don't need to solve world peace or fly anything heavy today.  My brain is moving at a pace slower than even I thought possible, but I'm perfectly OK with that and am just...Saturdaying.  If I can, I am going to attempt a little stitching...but if I can't that's OK too.  Last time I checked, the world wasn't going to stop spinning on its axis due to my lack of supervision.

Holey schmoley....insight AND acceptance of the way things are.  I really must be unwell!

Thank you for all of your lovely notes and kind words.  I'm sorry that I am so behind in answering them all individually, but...oh crap...you know.

AND THEN IT GOT WORSE...

I think the universe is poking me in the eye to see if I'm paying attention.

That damn flu came back yesterday, and I spent the morning at the doctor...getting poked, prodded, and patted.

The patting part was nice...a kind nurse took pity on me as I blathered on and on about all of the crap that's dropped on my head lately, and she even cooed "There, there" gently, while tenderly sticking the thermometer so far into my ear I thought it would come out of the other side of my head.

Whatever this is has decided to settle in my ears and neck, and in addition to feeling generally unwell, I feel like I'm doing it underwater and listing to one side. (I had all of the stuff on the left side of my neck taken out 25 years ago when I had thyroid cancer, so now the right side of my neck seems to be taking the brunt of everything.)

I was doing OK and listening to Dr. Barbara's directions about Tylenol, fluids, rest, etc, but when she told me that I am pretty much grounded and can't go to the Dressing Downton tea on Sunday, I cried pitiful tears all over the front of my sweater.

And then she ordered nineteen pages of labwork, gave me a list of stuff I can take for congestion, and got the heck outta there before I was able to grab her by the front of her labcoat and tell her I want my mommie.

Oey.  It is, most absolutely certainly, not easy being me at the moment.  I am going to take my Gatorade and crawl back into bed until the Spring thaw.

Here's hoping that your weekend is off to a much better start and that you stay warm and safe and dry and plague free for the duration!

P.S.  I decided to leave well enough alone with the baking this year and try again for Easter.

Damn Greek cookies.

SERIOUSLY?

Just when I thought it was starting to turn around here at Chez Spinster...

Yup.

You guessed it.

The damn Greek cookies.

This year, though, I decided to try something new...incinerate them.  

These are koulrakia...Greek twist cookies that are usually made at Easter.  But, for reasons completely unknown to me, I associate them with Christmas and my mom sitting by the tree in her robe and slippers, with a cup of coffee and a couple of these damn cookies.

I have been making these damn cookies for about 39 years, and for 39 years I swear I will never do it again, but instead, I'll order a case of the damn Stella Doro breakfast treats (a very close imitation of these) and be done with it.

But every year, I end up in the egg aisle muttering "Screw it" as I gather the seven dozen eggs and nine pounds of butter and twelve-teen boxes of Swan's Down cake flour.  And then I forget the orange juice and get home and realize that I'm out of baking powder and I drink a glass of something strong and go back to the damn grocery store to get the rest of the stuff for the damn Greek cookies.

This year, though, I made it all the way to the clean up stage...thinking that I had finally, after 39 freakin years, mastered the making of the damn Greek cookies, and I bloody well burned the lot of them.

Nuts and fiddlesticks and every other word I can think of without jeopardizing a visit from You Know Who this year.

I'm off to have a nice long soak in the tub followed by a quiet evening of Netflix, and then I'll get up and try it again tomorrow.  

If I'm not back in a couple of days with pictures of perfectly twisted cookies, you will probably be able to me face down in a pile of egg yolks and flour somewhere.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

ONE MONTH

It's been one month today.  I swear, it feels more like a thousand years, but today I am going to think happy funny thoughts about my Little.

(I'm still in the well, but now I seem to be sitting upright at the bottom of it rather than lying face down in the complete darkness.  Eventually, I will be able to kneel...then stand...then start climbing one step at a time out of it and back up onto the surface of things. But for now I am in familiar territory and am breathing and not completely broken, so methinks a few more days down here will be OK.)

Today I want to think about his funny little overbite and how, when he really wanted to get you rolling on the floor, he'd get his upper lip stuck and stick his front teeth out like Jerry Lewis.  And the minute I'd catch sight of this, I would howl and belly laugh and completely forget about whatever it was that he had just done that should have made me cross with him, but gave me reason to scoop him up and laugh and laugh at his funny little bunny teeth.

Or the time that I heard something coming from the vacinity of his little bed, and I caught him chewing a stick of gum....casually...like he might have had something for lunch that was full of garlic or onion and he wanted minty fresh breath for his afternoon nap.

I could also think about his special "friend" Stumpy the Moose, and how I had to teach him that "private time" with Stumpy was probably best had in actual private and not in the middle of the living room floor when company was visiting. 

(As God is my witness...All I had to say was "Stewey, please do that in private" and he would drag that poor moose into the bedroom.  One evening, Aunt Chrissy and I grew concerned when he disappeared with Stumpy for what seemed like a very long time.  I will spare you the inappropriate details, but suffice it to say that it involved a $250 bill at the emergency vet for what I believe is referred to as a "happy ending" in less than reputable establishments worldwide.)

This funny little furry creature was my entire life for eleven years, four months, and eight days and I honestly don't think I would trade one single moment of that for anything...not even to erase the pain I feel now.  I got to be a Mommie and discovered things about myself that I never would have imagined to be true...like my capacity to love something that deeply or to accept love in return.

For such a little thing, he sure left a big hole in my silly world, but I'm slowly filling up that hole with happy memories.  Thanks for indulging me.  I know that if he were here he'd be completely exasperated with his Mo-ther for the dramatics, but some things, I suppose, must never change.

BLECH...

I thought I would jump out of bed this morning armed in the outfit of a petite blond triathlete.

Instead, I rolled over and looked at the clock and realized that I am still a flu-ridden portly grey haired spinster who can't make a proper roast beef to save her pitiful little life.

Boiled...blech.

Every roast I've attempted in the last several years has positively sucked.  I follow directions and hope for the best, but somehow end up with an awful lump of beef that is boiled, tasteless, and headed for the garbage bin.

Even the vegetable betrayed me this time.  The carrots tasted like soap and the potatoes were still a bit raw after a full eight hours of cooking.

So I threw a big pout, scraped it all into a Tupperware, and headed back to the Happy Chair for pretzels and ginger ale.  

Damn flu.

Don't cry for me, Argentina.  I will go soak my head in a hot bath, put on some freshly laundered jams, and will keep pushing the fluids and happy thoughts until this runs its course.  I promise to behave myself and won't channel my inner Ina until the proper authorities have released me to do so, but if any of you have tips on making perfect pot roast...I'm all ears!

AND THE AWARD FOR A SNOOZY SLEEPY SUNDAY GOES TO...

3:14 pm.

As in 3:14 in the afternoon.

The afternoon!

That's what time my toes eventually hit the floor today.  I did get up at 9 and put a tiny little roast in the crock pot, but rather than start my day like a normal human person, I dove back under the covers in the big girl sleigh bed and went back to sleep.

I must have needed the rest, because I awoke feeling slightly better than I did yesterday.  Still a bit flu-ish, but at least I am semi-upright in the Happy Chair for the duration:

The project on the left is Laura J. Perin's Christmas Panel.  I started it last night while watching Mary Poppins, and I somehow managed to get the borders completed on the bottom section.  After all the cross stitching and beading on Vaceila it was a pleasure to play with canvas again, and what better way to do so than with my favorite LJP.

It's cold and snowy and just beautiful outside.  Stewey's box is on its little perch and the tree lights are making me very happy.

In a few minutes I will make some egg noodles to accompany the tiny little roast for dinner, and then I think I will tackle a batch of Greek cookies.  I might only get the dough mixed, but I can twist and roll them tomorrow when I'm fresh!

Happy Sunday, dearies!  I hope that you are doing something you love today!

DAMN, DRAT, AND PHLOOEY

I am supposed to be at a holiday luncheon at the moment with my stitchy sisters.  Instead, I am under the blankets with Tylenol and Gatorade.

I feel like a little kid that wants to be out playing, but who is stuck on the couch with chicken pox, a teevee tray, ginger ale, and soda crackers instead.

Phooey.

I did stitch a bit last night, but I cannot show you any proof of that.  We are piloting a class and the instructor has expressly forbidden any sharing of it, so I will be a good spinster and follow the rules.

This time.

Here's hoping that your Saturday is fantastic and flu free!  

VACEILA FEE NEE

Angel of Love

(aka Vaceila)

Lavender and Lace

28ct. tea dyed linen by Charles Craft

DMC floss, metallic

Kreinik

Mill Hill beads

I want to send a special thank you to Miss Emily of eclecticpossessions fame.  I first spotted this piece on her Flosstube and Instagram channels and was immediately smitten.  Vaceila got me through Stewey's illness and passing (along with all of you), and there are an awful lot of emotions stitched into her.  I am going to take her to be framed as soon as I am back up on my feet...stay tuned for the final reveal!

A little more Gatorade and I'm heading back to the big girl sleigh bed!  Night night, all!

NUTS

You know that feeling when you're just sitting there minding your own business and you suddenly think to yourself "Hmmm.  I think I might be getting the flu."

Well...that's me at the moment.

I had planned on finishing Vaceila today, but I am heading back to bed instead.  I loaded up on fluids, took a couple of Tylenol, and had a nice hot soak in a bubble bath, so all will be well shortly, I'm sure.

So here's to happy thoughts that this too shall pass...and quickly!

HAPPY MAIL!

More Christmas presents arrived today!  You know how much I adore Laura J. Perin, so getting her Christmas Panel and Holiday Wreath kitted up and on deck is making for a very very happy Monday indeed!

SUNDAY SPINSTER SEMI BLISS

I can't have full bliss because...well, you know...but that doesn't mean that I can't have a little semi bliss on a chilly Sunday morning, right?

This is my first Christmas present to myself this year.  I am so excited about it that I did a little prancy dance out there in the driveway in front of God and everybody when I realized that the new delivery guy didn't forget me today...he just delivered to the wrong mailbox.

(At least I hope that was the case....otherwise, I've swiped my neighbor's newspaper!)

I wish I could tell you how darn happy this stupid paper makes me.  It's like a big fat box of chocolates that I get to open and savor...piece by piece...section by section...all week long.  Oh, what joy!

Now before you tell me that I could have been reading the paper on my iPad thingie, let me just state once and for all that I am a purist and simply must have the feel of ink on paper in my hand with my damn good cup of coffee or the whole experience just flops.

So that's my day today.  Coffee, the Sunday papers, the fireplace set to toasty, and then some beading on dear Vaceila.  She's almost ready for her halo and headpiece:

If all goes according to plan I will finish her up and get started on a Guild assignment that needs my urgent attention.  We are piloting a class and have to have it completed soon, and I have yet to start the darn thing!  Given my propensity for seeking acceptance and approval constantly, I'd better get crackin' or I'm going to have to go sit in the corner...ashamed and alone to contemplate my failure.

Oey...

But first, the paper!   And coffee!

Here's hoping that your Sunday is as blissful as it can possibly be.  Do something that makes your heart sing and your skirt blow up and come tell me all about it!

I SWEAR, THAT TREE IS SCREWING WITH ME...

Do you remember, about a year ago, when Stewey and I saw the bright yellow tree out back with the one red leaf smack dab in the middle of it?

Remember?  I waxed all poetical and took a craptastic photo of it:

See?  Right there in the middle.  One.  Red.  Leaf.

So today I came home from an all day outing with my Guild Sisters...my first since Stewey died, and as I was passing him in his little wooden box on his perch on the back of the loveseat, something caught my eye out the back window:

Can you see it?  Right there in the middle of the tree?  

Look closely....

Right damn smack in the middle of that tree is a bright red cardinal.

Yup.  A bright red cardinal.  If my old wives tales are up to date and accurate, I think that when you see a bright red cardinal, it means that a loved one that has passed is thinking of you.  Or hovering nearby. Or something to that effect.

All I do know is that the universe is either telling me that everything is going to be OK and that Stewey is having a grand time of it up there wherever he is, or I have finally flipped my wig entirely and a bright red cardinal smack dab in the damn middle of a green tree means nothing other than it's cardinal tree sitting time and that I might want to consider upping my meds.

So...that's what happened here today.  What's up in your neck of the woods?

WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH ME?

Just when I thought I was safe, I awoke yesterday to a weepy, funky mess of a self all day long.  It was bad enough that at nine o'clock last night I actually started laughing at how silly I must look...shuffling about the house with tissues stuffed in my cuffs and blubbering incoherently to the Christmas tree.

I think I read someplace that grief comes in waves, but this is a little nuts.  One minute I'm at the Martins buying bagels and peanut butter, and the next minute I'm face down in a puddle of tears clutching Stewey's blanket like I'm a deranged three year old.

So much for handling things with dignity and grace.

I supose that a qualified mental health professional would tell me that what I'm doing is actually normal, and is probably a release of grief from every loss.  I was twenty-one when Mom died and had Dad and Chrissy to look after, and when Dad died some seventeen years later I guess I was still in the "be strong and lead your family" mode.

Now it's just me, and I don't need to suck it up and act like I've got it semi together, so I suppose all of it has decided to just gush out all over my freshly swept floors. For the first time since 1987 I guess I am feeling like it's OK to be sad and weak and raw and a holy crock pot of a royal mess.

What a strange sensation....

The good news is that the wave seems to have passed today, and so far I've managed to get through a damn good cup of coffee, the paper, and the Jumble without any meltdowns.  The Sudoko might be another story, though, so I'm not going to put the hanky away just yet.

I have a few small errands to run (more beads for Vaceila!), and then it's home to pay bills, do a little laundry, and get some serious stitching done.  I am feeling the need to insert a little Christmas stitching into my "All Vaceila all the time" rotation, so a trip upstairs to the studio might be in order!

Thanks for letting me ponder and ramble, dear friends.  I've always loathed the concept of sharing one's most inner secrets (despite my propensity for doing exactly that on this here blog), but it sure feels nice to know that a tender heart is in such wonderful hands!

WEDNESDAY, WEDNESDAY

A billion beads down, a jillion to go...

MONDAY MONDAY

I can't lift my arms, and walking from the bedroom to the coffee maker took about half an hour, but here are the Official Spinster Stitcher 2016 Fun Old Fashioned Family Christmas decorations.

(Sorry for the craptastic pictures...it's gloomy today).

The blob in the center under the wreath is actually a cute little sleigh that made its way into the cart during a late night Michael's expedition:

I love Jim Sore Santas:

Don't look too closely at some of those frames, kids...they're just temporary.

I told Stewey to knock on his little box if he had any objections, but so far...so good. (Yup, that's him on his perch with his spaceship and a pumpkin.  I'm still moving him from room to room to be close to me.)

(What can I say?  I'm greiving.)

(It's a process.)

I'm going to go soak in a hot tub and hit the Tylenol bottle and then it's back to Vaceila and her beads!

Happy, Monday!

AND THEN...SHE DECIDED TO DECORATE

Christmas has come to Spinster's Hollow.  But first, we have the Thanksgiving report.

I woke up in time for the parade, a damn good cup of coffee, and a mini quiche.  I confess that I was a little bleary-eyed due to the final six episodes of Gilmore Girls that I watched the night before, but I made it through the parade, got the annual goosebumps upon the appearance of Santa, and headed to the kitchen to prepare my little feast.  

Turkey (from the Honey Baked Ham place so that it would taste like ham instead of turkey), mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, Ina's Sagaponak corn pudding, green bean casserole, and cranberry sauce.  And a pumpkin praline pie that I baked the night before.  It took two hours to futz and chop and sautee and cook and exactly eleven minutes to eat.

While I ate, I watched  You've Got Mail, and then in a fit of inspiration decided to watch National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation while I contemplated a turkey sandwich (turkey, mayo, salt and pepper, and celery sticks on Pepperidge Farm white bread, aka a Siggie Special).

Can I just tell you that watching that movie was probably the smartest decision I've made in a very long time?

When Stewey died, I pretty much decided that I was just going to go to bed and wait for this year to be over.  I figured if I played my cards right, I could completely ignore everything about Christmas and the holidays in general and just wake up some time next April.

But as I sat there watching Clark and all of his tomfoolery, it occured to me that I love Christmas.  Always have.  And so did Stewey.  But the last four years or so have been one big fat fail in the festivity department, and I allowed myself to bah humbug my way through December because I didn't have the time or energy or money or family or spirit to decorate or shop or cook or plan or enjoy.

Pardon my French, but this year as I watched Clark grit his teeth and declare that the Griswolds were going to have a fun old fashioned family Christmas, I stood up, brushed the pie crumbs off of my eighteen year old sweatshirt and declared $@&!* on myself.  I declared $@&!* on anybody convincing me not to celebrate Christmas this year because I don't have the time or energy or money or family or spirit to decorate or shop or cook or plan or enjoy and I put my shoe and socks on and I pulled the car out of the garage and spent the next three days blaring Christmas music and decorating my house.

Outside AND inside this year, thankyouverymuch.  I haven't decorated the inside of my house for Christmas since 2012.  And you know what?  That's just $@&!*.

So tonight as I was finishing up the tree, I looked at Stewey's little box and told him that I miss him like crazy and still reserve the right to bawl my eyes out every time I think about him not being here, but that he would probably love this year's effort because it is the perfect combination of elegant and whimsical...just like he was.  The tree is sporting his top hat and white feather boa and the big white wall of nothingness has a few freashly framed pieces that I'll send off to be properly done next year.

I'm absolutle exhausted and will probably pay for all of this with bad kidney numbers next week, but for now I'm just going to sit here in the glow of the lights....happy that I was able to get started with what I hope will be a wonderful holiday this year.  I know I'm still going to have my days and I know I probably won't be able to get out of bed tomorrow, but for the first time in a long time...I almost feel like things just might work out OK after all.

Full pictures tomorrow in the daylight.  For now, though, I will leave you wil a pic of my very favorite part of it all:

IN WHICH OUR HEROINE FINDS HERSELF....THANKFUL

Happy Thanksgiving, dear friends near and far.  Today I am thinking about all of the many wonderful blessings in my life, and I'm giving thanks that even in the darkest times the light and love of your friendship and compassion shines through.  I hope that you find yourself surrounded with happiness and joy and everything your heart desires!

IN WHICH OUR HEROINE FINDS HERSELF....THANKFUL

Happy Thanksgiving, dear friends near and far.  Today I am thinking about all of the many wonderful blessings in my life, and I'm giving thanks that even in the darkest times the light and love of your friendship and compassion shines through.  I hope that you find yourself surrounded with happiness and joy and everything your heart desires!

AND THEN THERE WAS ONE

It's been exactly a week today.

There are moments when I feel like it's still happening, and I'm pretty sure that my heart will actually physically break from the hurt of it, and then at other times it feels like it's been a thousand years ago.

Silly, isn't it, to be so completely gutted over the passing of...a dog?  You would think that I have lost all rational perspective and am finally, once and for all, going round the bend.  Dogs don't live forever.  They get sick and they die, just like we do.  It's the circle of life, the passage of time, etc etc etc.

But my brain has apparently lost the ability to convince my heart that things like this happen and we get through it, and I am mourning every loss (Mom, Dad, Uncle Connie, Dr. Dan...) along with missing Stewey.  

What was it that Queen Elizabeth said during a rough patch?  Something about a horrible year (I can't remember the Latin at the moment).  Well, I suppose that 2016 is going to go down in my own little history book at a horrible year indeed.  I lost my sister, the last little bits of my health (both physical and mental?), the love of my life, and every other thing that made me...me.  I'm thinking that January 1, 2017 just can't get here soon enough for Yours Truly.

But first, there are thousands of things to be thankful for.  Like the autumn light that still insists on coming in the back windows.  Or the hundreds of comments and notes and prayers and virtual hugs that have (literally) saved me.  The best gift came on Friday when I got the call that Stewey's ashes were ready to be picked up.  I had been dreading and fretting about a proper resting place for him, and when I opened the plain cardboard box, there it was.  A lovely little carved wooden box with Stewey inside and daisies carved on the top.  I don't know if the vet or the pet mortuary knew about Stewey's connection to and love of daisies, but there they are.  Right where we can both enjoy them.

I've promised myself that I will just  feel it and that I will move through this in my own time, and so far that is working.  The laundry has somehow gotten done and the dishes have somehow made it to the dishwasher, and the house is somehow still standing.  Vaceila has a few more beads and the television has been on and off as I stumble from day to day and night to night and just try to figure it out.

Thank you, dear friends, for your love and patience.  

With much love,

Coni

Stewey Angus Willowswamp

May 13, 2005 - November 14, 2016

Mr. Stewey Angus Willowswamp, age 11, passed away peacefully in his Mo-ther's arms at 4pm on Monday, November 14 due to complications from bone cancer.

Stewey was born on May 13, 2005 to canine parents Angus Willowswamp and Arrowhead (Headly) Willowswamp at the Willowswamp Farm in the cornfields of Ligonier, Indiana.  He was the youngest (and smallest) of three boys, two of whom are presumed to be living in Ohio.  He was nicknamed Mr. Fuzzy by the caretaker at Willowswamp due to his unusually soft and downy coat of snowy white fur.

On July 6, 2005, he was united with his adoptive human mother, Coni J. Rich.  She survives him, along with his Aunt Chrissy Rich of Goshen, Indiana and his cousin, Mr. Bosco Oliver Willowswamp, recently of Goshen, Indiana also.

Mr. Willowswamp was formally educated at the Magrane Pet Medical Center Puppy School, from which he received a Diploma of Completion and Congratulation.  He did, however, insist on continuing his education beyond the courses offered at Magrane, and was rather autodidactic in his educational enthusiasms.  He read voraciously, and was interested in world affairs, the history of his native homeland, Great Britain, and fashion.

He was well known for his charming disposition, bon vivant attitude, and quick wit.  A silk smoking jacket, cravat, and properly prepared afternoon tea were all necessary to maintain the cosmopolitan lifestyle that he rather enjoyed, despite his humble beginnings and simpleton companion.

Along with his Mo-ther, Mr. Willowswamp created The Spinster Stitcher blog.  It was here that he was able to write about his day to day life with a crazy needlework-obsessed spinster, and due to his charasmatic personality, he made very loyal and dear friends across the globe.  He cherished the notes, cards, letters, and gifts that he received, and in his last days the love and well wishes that were expressed were a lovely comfort to both he and his Mo-ther.

Private services will take place at a later date.  Mr. Willowswamp's last wishes were to share the following words with his faithful and adoring fans:

My very dear friends,

It is with a sad and heavy heart that I bid you all adieu.  As you know, I have been decidedly unwell these last many months, and alas, I was unable to win the battle against a fierce enemy.  My life has been a grand adventure, and for that I am very happy.  To have shared it with you all was an unexpectected gift that I will cherish...deeply.  I leave my Mo-ther in your capable hands.  She and I loved each other beyond our wildest imaginings.  Until we meet again, I remain your faithful and devoted pal.

Stewey

Stewey Angus Willowswamp

May 13, 2005 - November 14, 2016

Mr. Stewey Angus Willowswamp, age 11, passed away peacefully in his Mo-ther's arms at 4pm on Monday, November 14 due to complications from bone cancer.

Stewey was born on May 13, 2005 to canine parents Angus Willowswamp and Arrowhead (Headly) Willowswamp at the Willowswamp Farm in the cornfields of Ligonier, Indiana.  He was the youngest (and smallest) of three boys, two of whom are presumed to be living in Ohio.  He was nicknamed Mr. Fuzzy by the caretaker at Willowswamp due to his unusually soft and downy coat of snowy white fur.

On July 6, 2005, he was united with his adoptive human mother, Coni J. Rich.  She survives him, along with his Aunt Chrissy Rich of Goshen, Indiana and his cousin, Mr. Bosco Oliver Willowswamp, recently of Goshen, Indiana also.

Mr. Willowswamp was formally educated at the Magrane Pet Medical Center Puppy School, from which he received a Diploma of Completion and Congratulation.  He did, however, insist on continuing his education beyond the courses offered at Magrane, and was rather autodidactic in his educational enthusiasms.  He read voraciously, and was interested in world affairs, the history of his native homeland, Great Britain, and fashion.

He was well known for his charming disposition, bon vivant attitude, and quick wit.  A silk smoking jacket, cravat, and properly prepared afternoon tea were all necessary to maintain the cosmopolitan lifestyle that he rather enjoyed, despite his humble beginnings and simpleton companion.

Along with his Mo-ther, Mr. Willowswamp created The Spinster Stitcher blog.  It was here that he was able to write about his day to day life with a crazy needlework-obsessed spinster, and due to his charasmatic personality, he made very loyal and dear friends across the globe.  He cherished the notes, cards, letters, and gifts that he received, and in his last days the love and well wishes that were expressed were a lovely comfort to both he and his Mo-ther.

Private services will take place at a later date.  Mr. Willowswamp's last wishes were to share the following words with his faithful and adoring fans:

My very dear friends,

It is with a sad and heavy heart that I bid you all adieu.  As you know, I have been decidedly unwell these last many months, and alas, I was unable to win the battle against a fierce enemy.  My life has been a grand adventure, and for that I am very happy.  To have shared it with you all was an unexpectected gift that I will cherish...deeply.  I leave my Mo-ther in your capable hands.  She and I loved each other beyond our wildest imaginings.  Until we meet again, I remain your faithful and devoted pal.

Stewey

MONDAY. MONDAY.

MONDAY. MONDAY.

BLECH...

This really is proof that I am not, in fact, a fourteen year old boy.

I suppose that in the context of Veterans' Day and the fact that our opponent today is Army, this might make a little more sense.

But....blech.

Would a few beads or sequins have killed them?

BLECH...

This really is proof that I am not, in fact, a fourteen year old boy.

I suppose that in the context of Veterans' Day and the fact that our opponent today is Army, this might make a little more sense.

But....blech.

Would a few beads or sequins have killed them?

AND THEN...WE MADE PRETZELS!

My whacky eating patterns continue.

Today I had my shot of juice (to wash down the morning meds), a damn good cup of coffee (with cream and Truvia), and a bagel with crunchy peanut butter.  For dinner, I made a lovely tossed salad with tomatoes, olives, a little blue cheese, and Olive Garden house dressing.

All in all, a fairly good day.

But as I settled in to watch a movie that I picked up at the library (Damage, with Jeremy Irons and Juliette Binoche) I wanted...something.

Popcorn would have been good, but I'm out.

So I fished around in the pantry and came up with a box of pretzel mix that I forgot I had, and in about an hour I had big fat soft hot pretzels right out of the oven!  

Not bad for a first try, eh?

Stewey loved them (I was careful to give him the non-salty parts), and he was particularly good during his bandage change as a thank you. 

I will definitely try these again, and who knows?  Maybe I'll try my hand at something cheesy to dip them in!

No stitching tonight.  My patio/garden cleaning and running around have knocked me for a bit of a loop, so methinks we're going to watch one more Gilmore Girls and call it a night! 

(Right after I hit the Tylenol bottle!)

HAPPY ACCIDENTS

My newspaper was late today, so instead of hitting the Happy Chair with my coffee, I went outside and FINALLY cleaned up the patio and garden for winter.

Stewey supervised.

This is the latest that I've waited to do this chore, and the fretting and hand-wringing and complaining about it for the last month and a half was not worth the twenty minutes it took to complete.

That seems to be the general pattern around here.  I fret and moan and kvetch and pull my hair out over the prospects of doing something (like laundry or emptying the dishwasher or making the bed) and I end up wasting more energy thinking about doing the thing than the actual doing would take in the first damn place.

Oh well.  Everybody needs a hobby, right?

Speaking of hobbies...here is my beading progress on Vaceila.  I am still really enjoying this part of the piece, and cannot believe how much the beading adds to the look of it!  I finished adding all of the gold beads.  Now it's on to some lovely pinkish brown ones (that are, unfortunately, very hard to see in the photo below):

That's the report for the day.  I am off to a doctor's appointment, labwork, and then the library this afternoon, and then it will be time to hit the Happy Chair for more Gilmores tonight!  I am almost through season three...getting ready for Rory's graduation!

Good grief, how I love this show!

DAMN, DRAT, AND PHOOEY

Today (and much of yesterday and the day before) was an exercise in frustration.  As the duly designated newsletter editor of one of my guilds, and as a columnist fir Needlepoint Now, I am, from time to time, required to put the metaphorical pen to paper and submit my drivel for review.

Now, you might be thinking to yourself "What's the hig deal, Spinster Stitcher?  You submit your drivel on this here blog for review, and it doesn't seem to give you too much angst."

Well, it's a matter of equipment, it would seem.  I am able to blog on my iPad thingie from the friendly confines of my Happy Chair.  More extensive writing requies that I go into my office and fire up the 97-year old desktop computer that I got somewhere in the Mesozoic Era.

So for three days I have been futzing and swearing and tweaking and banging the keyboard of said relic with the hopes of assembling both the newsletter and my column without bloodshed or a nervous breakdown.

I made it out of there semi-OK, but the poor little man trapped inside the damn thing with the stone tablet and chisel is never going to be the same.

Stupid technology.

If all goes according to plan, I will take myself to the Best Buy and think about an early Christmas present to myself of a contraption that will allow me to join you all in the 21st century.  Heck, while I'm there I might even consider upgrading my rotary phone and black and white console television!

The radio and horse and buggy, however stay.

SUDDENLY HE'S A COMEDIAN

This was at 3pm, when he decided to pop his head up from his afternoon nap...

And here he is, playing "Hide the Stewey" moments ago...

He was futzing around in his toy basket, so I decided we'd just dump the whole thing out for a little play time.  Who knew it would make such a fun and comfy pillow?!

Silly dog.  Wonder what he's planning to do next?

MONDAY MONDAY

Somebody is disappointed that today's bandage is plain and functional and not embellished with little paw prints...

Another evening of beading and Gilmoring resulted in...

Funny thing...I discovered that my stamina for beading is much lower than for stitching.  Progress seems so meagre when there are beads involved!

We're hoping that your week is off to a good start.  Happy Monday!

SATURDAY REPEAT ON A SUNDAY

Still snoozing....

And beading....

Our little clinic for treatment of the Stinky Toes...

Yesterday and this morning have been quite lovely, actually.  We're moving at a different pace now.  Following the sun from spot to spot, eating when we're hungry, and sleeping when we're sleepy.  In between, there's lots of beading and Gilmore watching and talking and reading.  A different pace, but a good one, to be sure.

This afternoon I will write a long list of all of the stuff I should do this week, and then we'll think about a grocery/Target run for provisions.  Turkey bacon and baby wipes make for an interesting shopping cart combo, esprcially when you add a few bags of clearanced Halloween candy and an industrial size jar of crunchy peanut butter to the mix.  What can I say?  Sometimes you just have to go with the flow...

The love and support that is flooding in is overwhelming, to say the least.  I read each and every one of your comments, cards, letters, and postcards aloud to Stewey during our afternoon tea time and his heart (and mine) fill to almost bursting.  Thank you, dear friends.

STEWEY SPINSTER SATURDAY

A little sun snoozing...

A little beading...

A little leaf peeping...

A little magazine reading...

NOVEMBER...AND WE'RE STILL HERE

Stewey and I woke up early today and enjoyed a few minutes of morning sunshine spilling across the pillows.  We're in a new normal, but one that is peaceful and lovely...just taking things moment by moment and doing whatever feels right.

He is snoozing in the sun and I am in the Happy Chair, stitching the last bit of cross stitching on Vaceila before starting her beading.  Later, we might take a nap or go outside or just sit in front of the TeeVee...but we're together and for that I am profoundly happy and thankful.

Here's hoping that your November has started well and that you, too, are doing what you love with your own Little doing it with you.

(The image, which I love, is a piece by the artist Sam Toft...my very favorite!)

NOVEMBER...AND WE'RE STILL HERE

Stewey and I woke up early today and enjoyed a few minutes of morning sunshine spilling across the pillows.  We're in a new normal, but one that is peaceful and lovely...just taking things moment by moment and doing whatever feels right.

He is snoozing in the sun and I am in the Happy Chair, stitching the last bit of cross stitching on Vaceila before starting her beading.  Later, we might take a nap or go outside or just sit in front of the TeeVee...but we're together and for that I am profoundly happy and thankful.

Here's hoping that your November has started well and that you, too, are doing what you love with your own Little doing it with you.

(The image, which I love, is a piece by the artist Sam Toft...my very favorite!)