Jul 17, 2012
JUST THE FACTS, MA'AM
Jul 12, 2012
COMPELLING EVIDENCE THAT MY MO-THER IS INDEED A COMPLETE AND TOTAL DOOFUS, BY MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP, HIS VERY LITTLE SELF
My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's out in the driveway batting her eyelashes at the landscapers in a feeble attempt at old lady flirting. This in itself wouldn't be so bad (I mean, after all, a spinster's gotta do what a spinster's gotta do), but the visual is almost more than I can bear.
Rather than showering and dressing like a normal human person, my idiot mo-ther decided that a Hanes clearance bin t-shirt and a pair of eighteen year old sweatpants would be perfectly acceptable attire for "putzing" about the house today. Never mind the fact that it's a full 90 degrees outside. Nor am I completely thrown by the selection of the t-shirt and it's somewhat odd color. (Is it puce? Olive green? Why does it change colors so in the sunlight?)
No, what's bothering me is the fact that the old lady couldn't have taken an extra two minutes in the bath this morning to drag a razor across the vast expanse of whiteness that is her lower shins. I get the fact that a woman of her proportions doesn't necessarily have to (or want to) be bikini ready. (I mean, who in the world would want to see THAT particular hot mess anyway?) But don't you think it reasonable to assume that if your legs are going to stick out of the bottoms of your eighteen year old sweatpants, the least you can do is make sure that they are relatively stubble free?
Despite her horrifying appearance, the landscapers were bearing up OK and were chatting amiably with her right up to the point that she said (and I quote): "Man, Joan Crawford's got nothing on you fellas".
The resulting awkward silence prompted my mo-ther to explain that the reference is to the movie Mommie Dearest, in which Ms. Crawford (as she is portrayed by a heavily shoulder-padded and eye-browed Faye Dunaway), goes positively bat shit in the garden one evening and proceeds to hack everything to death while wearing a ball gown. This scene is one of Mo-ther and Aunt Chrissy's favorites, and every time either of them attempt any type of shrubbery trimming, they feel compelled to call one another and shout into the telephone "CHRISTINA! BRING ME THE AX!".
But I digress.....
While Mom's out there trying to get her peri-menopausal groove on, I decided to take matters into my own hands here inside Chez Spinster to spruce the joint up a bit. The Big White Wall of Nothingness was really starting to depress me with its tired Spring theme, and I noticed that several of the pieces in the collection were looking a little worse for wear. Additionally...the fake flowers in the form of spring blossoms were also looking a little shabby, so it was time for a change. Here's the result:
I'm sure, if pressed, I could find the names and designers of all of the pieces that are hanging here, but I assume that you will just want to know how I managed to reach high enough to get everything hung properly. Well, I'm happy to report that my lovely new friend Daphne gave me a little boost up onto her back, and she was able to stand perfectly still while I hammered away. You might remember that Daphne is my new little baby deer friend. She's fawn-colored, has enormous brown eyes, and she pees on everything in sight. Just like me. I'm auditioning her for the role of my personal assistant, and if we can work out the profit sharing and health care packages, you might see more and more of my creative endeavors here in the future.
For now, though, I'm just excited to see the look on Mom's face when she sees the drapes.
I hope that your Thursday is everything you wish it to be. Until we meet again, I remain your loyal and devoted friend.
With love from your pal,
Stewey
Rather than showering and dressing like a normal human person, my idiot mo-ther decided that a Hanes clearance bin t-shirt and a pair of eighteen year old sweatpants would be perfectly acceptable attire for "putzing" about the house today. Never mind the fact that it's a full 90 degrees outside. Nor am I completely thrown by the selection of the t-shirt and it's somewhat odd color. (Is it puce? Olive green? Why does it change colors so in the sunlight?)
No, what's bothering me is the fact that the old lady couldn't have taken an extra two minutes in the bath this morning to drag a razor across the vast expanse of whiteness that is her lower shins. I get the fact that a woman of her proportions doesn't necessarily have to (or want to) be bikini ready. (I mean, who in the world would want to see THAT particular hot mess anyway?) But don't you think it reasonable to assume that if your legs are going to stick out of the bottoms of your eighteen year old sweatpants, the least you can do is make sure that they are relatively stubble free?
Despite her horrifying appearance, the landscapers were bearing up OK and were chatting amiably with her right up to the point that she said (and I quote): "Man, Joan Crawford's got nothing on you fellas".
The resulting awkward silence prompted my mo-ther to explain that the reference is to the movie Mommie Dearest, in which Ms. Crawford (as she is portrayed by a heavily shoulder-padded and eye-browed Faye Dunaway), goes positively bat shit in the garden one evening and proceeds to hack everything to death while wearing a ball gown. This scene is one of Mo-ther and Aunt Chrissy's favorites, and every time either of them attempt any type of shrubbery trimming, they feel compelled to call one another and shout into the telephone "CHRISTINA! BRING ME THE AX!".
But I digress.....
While Mom's out there trying to get her peri-menopausal groove on, I decided to take matters into my own hands here inside Chez Spinster to spruce the joint up a bit. The Big White Wall of Nothingness was really starting to depress me with its tired Spring theme, and I noticed that several of the pieces in the collection were looking a little worse for wear. Additionally...the fake flowers in the form of spring blossoms were also looking a little shabby, so it was time for a change. Here's the result:
I'm sure, if pressed, I could find the names and designers of all of the pieces that are hanging here, but I assume that you will just want to know how I managed to reach high enough to get everything hung properly. Well, I'm happy to report that my lovely new friend Daphne gave me a little boost up onto her back, and she was able to stand perfectly still while I hammered away. You might remember that Daphne is my new little baby deer friend. She's fawn-colored, has enormous brown eyes, and she pees on everything in sight. Just like me. I'm auditioning her for the role of my personal assistant, and if we can work out the profit sharing and health care packages, you might see more and more of my creative endeavors here in the future.
For now, though, I'm just excited to see the look on Mom's face when she sees the drapes.
I hope that your Thursday is everything you wish it to be. Until we meet again, I remain your loyal and devoted friend.
With love from your pal,
Stewey
Jul 10, 2012
FURTHER PONDERINGS FROM BEFUDDLETON COUNTY
As long as I live, I will never understand myself. As I explained to Aunt Chrissy moments ago, I have a keen propensity for fretting over something until I've worked myself right up into a full-on frenzy, and then something snaps and I do the thing that needs to be done. Typically, the thing that needs to be done takes all of seven minutes, and the end result is that I stand there in front of said thing wondering why I can't just rip the damn band-aid off already.
Case in point...the back patio. For the last three months I've fretted over the state of affairs out there, and have lamented the fact that it was starting to resemble a Port Authority restroom facility. For whatever reason, the birds and squirrels and chipmunks decided to party hardy and then leave whatever bodily excretions they thought appropriate all over the place. It. Was. Disgusting.
But rather than break out the hose and just swish it all away already, I chose to open the drapes each morning and fret over bird poop.
For three months.
I'm happy to report that one good scrubbing later, things are put back to rights again. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and Stewey is thrilled that his Mommie Dearest was finally smart enough to figure out how to turn on a garden hose.
I've been stitching the background of the Big Red Sunflower. In real life, you can't see the bright white wall behind the canvas...I promise. I'm using a lovely black Silk and Ivory and decided to keep the background very simple so that the specialty stitches of the petals stand out a little more. For the border, I think I've come up with something really cool, but I want to futz with it a bit before revealing the idea. And yes, I'm still going to tart this up like a Vegas showgirl with some beads, but that will definitely be last.
What's new with you?
Jul 3, 2012
WEATHER -1 SPINSTER -0
My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's too busy stomping around the house muttering something about baby powder and kindergarten paste. I suspect that her cranky attitude has to do with the nasty bit of weather we're having, but I might also guess that she's now suffering the unfortunate side effects of being a rotund-ly sweaty woman who decided to powder her undercarriage after this morning's bath.
What can I say? Some people really shouldn't be left to their own devices, especially when they have the mental capacity of a dining room chair.
A fair bit of stitching went on last night despite the fact that Mo-ther tried to watch Aaron Sorkin's "The Newsroom" while doing so. You would think that she would remember that one must really sit up in the buggy to fully appreciate Mr. Sorkin's dense dialogue, but we're talking about a woman who also decided that she is capable of reading Thomas Pynchon.
Trust me. She isn't.
I do hope that you are all well and that you will be safe and careful during tomorrow's festivities if you are here in the good 'ol U.S. of A. If you're elsewhere, I hope that your Wednesday is everything you would wish it to be!
Until we meet again, I remain your devoted pal,
Stewey
What can I say? Some people really shouldn't be left to their own devices, especially when they have the mental capacity of a dining room chair.
A fair bit of stitching went on last night despite the fact that Mo-ther tried to watch Aaron Sorkin's "The Newsroom" while doing so. You would think that she would remember that one must really sit up in the buggy to fully appreciate Mr. Sorkin's dense dialogue, but we're talking about a woman who also decided that she is capable of reading Thomas Pynchon.
Trust me. She isn't.
I do hope that you are all well and that you will be safe and careful during tomorrow's festivities if you are here in the good 'ol U.S. of A. If you're elsewhere, I hope that your Wednesday is everything you would wish it to be!
Until we meet again, I remain your devoted pal,
Stewey
Jun 29, 2012
THE 2012 SPINSTER STITCHER SUMMER STITCHY BASKET O' FUN
I've been so out of sorts with my stitching lately that I decided to fix it once and for all. I had originally intended to hit the studio yesterday, but considering the fact that it was 118 degrees here in Hoosierville (*), I thought better of it and decided to wait until today. It was still hot enough to bake a bundt cake up there, but I lived to tell the tale, and thanks to a gallon or two of iced tea, all is back to normal.
(Well. Whatever constitutes normal in these here parts.)
So without further ado....here's what I've decided to play with for the next few months. Some things are started, some are for the Olympics, some are just wishful thinking. But if this array of projects doesn't smack me right out of the stitching blah dee dahs, I don't know WHAT will.
I've got a really great Zecca canvas that I'm just itching to start, but I've promised myself that I'll finish these two painted canvases first and then use the Zecca as a "reward". First is the Melissa Shirley:
And second is the big red sunflower:
For counted canvas work, I know that I want to start the red, white, and blue piece during the Olympics, so I figured a way to reward myself in this category would be to finish LJP's Stained Glass Windows:
This is the red, white, and blue piece:
I had been working on Alphabets, but got frustrated that the tone on tone was so subtle:
This project is going to be an experiment. The colors on the chart are very autumnal, but I want something a little more summer-y. I tried and tried and tried to re-colorize it, but I got so frustrated I almost threw it out the window. Then I got the bright idea to just think of the threads as a box of Crayons. So when I sit down to stitch, I'll just look at whatever part I'm going to work on and pull a color. Wish me luck with this -- color selection is definitely not my forte'.
I enjoyed stitching the Winter Alphabet so much, I wonder why I haven't jumped on this one already?
A little something else in the whole "I'm going to stitch this one during the Olympics" category:
I thought this would be nice to add because it's not the size of a bedspread:
And how can I have a stitchy basket o' fun without some Shepherd's Bush?
I'm thinking that this one will be for much later -- maybe toward September-ish?
Same thing here:
Ahhh, the big a$$ Olympic project. I can only imagine how stunning this thing will be once completed:
Again....think small, Spinster! What do you want to bet that this one comes out of the basket first?
Another bright idea....I think I might change the centers of the daisies to red so that this will look a little like fireworks. What can I say? I've been jonesing for a little crewel lately.
That's it for today, kids. Thanks for bearing with me and my craptastic photographic skills. I hope that your basket is packed and ready for your own summer o' fun!
Have a fabulous weekend!
Woo Hoo!
(*) Yes, I exaggerate for effect, but it was indeed very very hot here. Rumor has it that the actual heat index reached 112. So I guess that 118 really isn't that far off, wouldn't you say?
(Well. Whatever constitutes normal in these here parts.)
So without further ado....here's what I've decided to play with for the next few months. Some things are started, some are for the Olympics, some are just wishful thinking. But if this array of projects doesn't smack me right out of the stitching blah dee dahs, I don't know WHAT will.
For counted canvas work, I know that I want to start the red, white, and blue piece during the Olympics, so I figured a way to reward myself in this category would be to finish LJP's Stained Glass Windows:
This is the red, white, and blue piece:
I had been working on Alphabets, but got frustrated that the tone on tone was so subtle:
This project is going to be an experiment. The colors on the chart are very autumnal, but I want something a little more summer-y. I tried and tried and tried to re-colorize it, but I got so frustrated I almost threw it out the window. Then I got the bright idea to just think of the threads as a box of Crayons. So when I sit down to stitch, I'll just look at whatever part I'm going to work on and pull a color. Wish me luck with this -- color selection is definitely not my forte'.
I enjoyed stitching the Winter Alphabet so much, I wonder why I haven't jumped on this one already?
A little something else in the whole "I'm going to stitch this one during the Olympics" category:
I thought this would be nice to add because it's not the size of a bedspread:
And how can I have a stitchy basket o' fun without some Shepherd's Bush?
I'm thinking that this one will be for much later -- maybe toward September-ish?
Same thing here:
Ahhh, the big a$$ Olympic project. I can only imagine how stunning this thing will be once completed:
Again....think small, Spinster! What do you want to bet that this one comes out of the basket first?
Another bright idea....I think I might change the centers of the daisies to red so that this will look a little like fireworks. What can I say? I've been jonesing for a little crewel lately.
That's it for today, kids. Thanks for bearing with me and my craptastic photographic skills. I hope that your basket is packed and ready for your own summer o' fun!
Have a fabulous weekend!
Woo Hoo!
(*) Yes, I exaggerate for effect, but it was indeed very very hot here. Rumor has it that the actual heat index reached 112. So I guess that 118 really isn't that far off, wouldn't you say?
Jun 27, 2012
THE SPINSTER REGRETS SHE'S UNABLE TO LUNCH TODAY *** EDITED ***
I'm so sad today.
Nora Ephron, one of my personal heroes, passed away yesterday.
Methinks it might be a good idea to climb into the Happy Chair with all of her movies on the thingie....
See you tomorrow.
Here's the Imdb filmography for Ms. E:
1973 Adam's Rib (TV series)
Nora Ephron, one of my personal heroes, passed away yesterday.
Methinks it might be a good idea to climb into the Happy Chair with all of her movies on the thingie....
See you tomorrow.
Here's the Imdb filmography for Ms. E:
1973 Adam's Rib (TV series)
–
For Richer, for Poorer
(1973)
(story)
Jun 26, 2012
SHE'LL NEVER BE READY FOR HER CLOSE-UP
Although I'm really touched that so many of you have requested before and after pictures of moi with moi new glasses (and, I assume, the old glasses too), I have only one thing to say.....
No way. No how.
Nope. Sorry. Not gonna do it. In addition to being a hermit of the first order that breaks out into a full-on flop sweat over the thought of venturing beyond the end of my driveway, the idea that I would have to have my picture taken sends me right into a paralytic orbit of epic proportions.
So let me give you a mental image instead....
I'm 5'6" tall, weigh almost nothing, and have the musculature and body physique of a trained tri-athlete.
Oh, wait. That can't be right.
Here. Try this.....
Did you see the movie Sister Act? Do you remember Sister Mary Patrick, the delightfully cheery nun played by award-winning actress Kathy Najimi? Well, add about a hundred pounds and lots and lots of unsightly facial hair and you've got me.
Good thing I've got those killer glasses....
Here's a little more progress on Laura J. Perin's Stained Glass Windows:
Hope you're having a splendid day and that you'll come again soon!
Woo Hoo!
Coni
P.S. Stewey has no issues with having his picture taken. Obviously.
No way. No how.
Nope. Sorry. Not gonna do it. In addition to being a hermit of the first order that breaks out into a full-on flop sweat over the thought of venturing beyond the end of my driveway, the idea that I would have to have my picture taken sends me right into a paralytic orbit of epic proportions.
So let me give you a mental image instead....
I'm 5'6" tall, weigh almost nothing, and have the musculature and body physique of a trained tri-athlete.
Oh, wait. That can't be right.
Here. Try this.....
Did you see the movie Sister Act? Do you remember Sister Mary Patrick, the delightfully cheery nun played by award-winning actress Kathy Najimi? Well, add about a hundred pounds and lots and lots of unsightly facial hair and you've got me.
Good thing I've got those killer glasses....
Here's a little more progress on Laura J. Perin's Stained Glass Windows:
Hope you're having a splendid day and that you'll come again soon!
Woo Hoo!
Coni
P.S. Stewey has no issues with having his picture taken. Obviously.
Jun 25, 2012
SPINSTER. 2.0?
My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's in the master closet practicing her elocution while looking for a decent bra to wear to the mailbox.
Yes, you read that correctly. There has been an absolute FLURRY of change and activity around here lately. Methinks we are finally on the proper course into the old lady's twilight years, in which I hope that she will be suitably attired and will stop saying things like "Hoosierville and this here". (One can only hope that it will also mean the retirement of the eighteen year old sweatpants that she's apparently had surgically adhered to her ample backside, but I suspect that she's pacing herself and we should celebrate whatever small victories come our way.)
I have no complaints whatsoever about these recent developments, particularly since I have been pushing for said changes for several years now. I am equally as thrilled that my stupid mo-ther has wed herself to such an admirable course of self improvement, but I'm not holding my breath that it will be a lasting endeavor.
The best place to begin would be at the salon, where Mo-ther gamely announced to one and all "I'm here to kill the squirrel". While this would have been a somewhat startling thing for most people to say, this is MY mo-ther we're talking about. So I would imagine that the hostesses there led her to the shampoo bowl with nary a thought as to the crazy spinster with the twenty two pound sweaty mess of brunette ponytail on her head that was just crying out for a nice cream rinse and a firm yet authoritative touch with the scissors.
Eighteen inches later, I'm happy to report that Mo-ther's hairstyle now resembles something you might have seen within the last twenty years or so and NOT one that grandchildren are known to snicker at while perusing old high school yearbooks. (She's still, alas, quite attached to her Snookie bangs, but I am hopeful that a little gentle persuading from Aunt Chrissy will encourage her to stop freeze framing them into a crispy-curlled mess atop her forehead once and for all.)
Speaking of Aunt Chrissy, I have her to thank for the next dramatic improvement to the old lady's image. As you might know from reading this blog, my Aunt Chrissy has developed a rather Elton Johnesque addiction to boutique eyewear. (This, of course, is my way of saying that my Aunt Chrissy sports glasses on her face that cost more than my mo-ther paid for her car.) She's acquired an amazing wardrobe of some of the most exclusive and beautiful pieces available, and when she comes to visit me I can hardly wait to see what new style has been added to the collection.
During a recent trip to the fancypants eyeglasses boutique, Aunt Chrissy decided that it was about time for Mo-ther to update her look, so she generously gifted a pair of fabulous new frames. I must say that it's obvious that Mo-ther never would have selected these for herself, because they actually look fantastic on her. Had she been left to her own devices, I'm fairly certain that she'd still be standing in the midst of a Target clearance aisle trying to figure out how to put prescription lenses into 99 cent sunglasses.
In keeping with the theme of self improvement, Mo-ther sat down with her Laura J. Perin's Stained Glass Windows project to determine what it was about the colors that was throwing her so much. It was, in fact, the brightness of the hot pink ribbon floss, so a quick trip upstairs to the studio fixed the problem once and for all. Fortunately, we had the perfect shade of Fyre Werks in the stash, so it was replaced and stitching continued on without further angst:
In the category of Olympic cross stitching is One Nation by ByGone Stitches. Miss Linda at House of Stitches selected the perfect 28ct. natural cashel linen for this one.
Last night's stitching was Alphabets by The Drawn Thread. I think that a lot more would have been accomplished had Mo-ther not been trying to watch The Real Housewives of New Jersey at the same time she was supposed to be concentrating on this. I'm hoping that she'll make more of an effort to pay attention to the chart when her fanny hits the Happy Chair later today.
Well, my dear and devoted friends. That's the report for today. I'll leave you with a glimpse of my view from my little bed in front of the patio window. In addition to my annual Aunt Chrissy daisy, I am also closely monitoring the progress of my very first strawberry plant. Aren't the little tiny berries delightful?
With much love from your pal,
Stewey
Jun 18, 2012
DON'T THINK -- JUST STITCH
Fasting from the news, crazypants neighbors, loud noises, media blathering about this or that, heat, humidity, droopy bangs, and sweaty dietCoke glasses.
I've got 1/4 of a library book to finish, a 1/2 block of shocking pink ribbon floss to frog, a fridge full of fruit, pasta, and broccoli salads, and enough freshly brewed iced tea to float a barge.
Stewey promises to send up a flare if things get too quiet....otherwise, see ya' on the other side!
Jun 14, 2012
WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE PASS THE DART GUN?
My mom can't come to the blog right now. I've loaded her up with several thousand milligrams of (insert name brand sedative here) so that I can finally get a little bit of peace and quiet around here. I'm not sure if it's the moon or menopause or just her normal mania, but life with Spinster has been completely nutso lately.
Yesterday morning as I was snoozing in the sun, I felt the presence of something out on the patio. So, being the dainty and gentle creature that I am, I gingerly opened one eye and saw a tiny little itty bitty baby deer standing on the patio. She wasn't really much bigger than me, actually, so I guessed that her mommie was probably close by. We just enjoyed one another's company for several minutes, and I admired her gorgeous fawny-brown spotted exteriors while she (naturally) admired my very own white non-spotted exteriors.
Right about the time I was going to give the little baby deer a warning that I live with a complete idiot, my stupid mo-ther came around the corner and bellowed "OH HOLY *^&%$! IT'S A BABY DEER! STEWEY! LOOK AT THE BABY DEER RIGHT OUT THERE ON THE PATIO!!!"
This bellowing, of course, prompted the tiny little itty bitty baby deer to scurry for the back fence, where I'm assuming she realized that life with a pack of tick-ridden mammals that run like the wind is preferable to life with an idiot spinster who hollers a lot.
I hope I get to see her again.
(For purposes of stable mental health, Mo-ther and Aunt Chrissy have convinced themselves that the itty bitty baby deer was, in fact, not alone at all, but that her mother was situated just out of sight and was supervising nicely, thankyouverymuch.)
It took a while, but the old lady eventually calmed down, and just about the time I thought we would head to the big girl sleigh bed for a snoozy nap, she decided to "take care of a situation" that has vexed her for several years now with respects to a neighbor. This neighbor is dumber and more off her proverbial nut than my mom is (if you can believe that) and for some damn reason Mom decided that yesterday was going to be the day that she solved the world's problems once and for all.
Needless to say, she didn't.
But while she was on the telephone with the lovely Kyla from Whippany (regarding said neighbor), I heard yet another bellowing. This time it was "OH HOLY (*^%!!!!!! IT'S AN ORIOLE! AN ACTUAL REAL LIVE ORIOLE!!!!"
Kyla from Whippany (who was probably used to dealing with crackpot Hoosiers and their sudden outbursts) said (in her very best Jerseyesque) "What the *#&$&'s an oriole?" and proceeded to listen to my stupid mother describe the intensely bright orange colored bird that had landed on the Weber grill and was now looking at her with mock exasperation.
(Can you imagine what it must be like to be that bird? There you are, just minding your very own business, when out of nowhere you've got maniac spinsters hollering about you and how pretty you are.)
Needless to say, by the time my Aunt Chrissy called from her BatMobile to say that she was on her way home from work, Mo-ther was practically frothing at the mouth over all of the excitement over here. I tried to bribe my Aunt Chrissy to come over, and I even made promises of a gorgeous New York strip steak dinner, but alas, Aunt Chrissy opted to get into her jammies and stitch the night away in the peace and quiet of her own home instead.
(I wonder how long it would take for the two of them to notice if I were to move out of here and plant myself into Aunt Chrissy's guest suite?)
Yesterday morning as I was snoozing in the sun, I felt the presence of something out on the patio. So, being the dainty and gentle creature that I am, I gingerly opened one eye and saw a tiny little itty bitty baby deer standing on the patio. She wasn't really much bigger than me, actually, so I guessed that her mommie was probably close by. We just enjoyed one another's company for several minutes, and I admired her gorgeous fawny-brown spotted exteriors while she (naturally) admired my very own white non-spotted exteriors.
Right about the time I was going to give the little baby deer a warning that I live with a complete idiot, my stupid mo-ther came around the corner and bellowed "OH HOLY *^&%$! IT'S A BABY DEER! STEWEY! LOOK AT THE BABY DEER RIGHT OUT THERE ON THE PATIO!!!"
This bellowing, of course, prompted the tiny little itty bitty baby deer to scurry for the back fence, where I'm assuming she realized that life with a pack of tick-ridden mammals that run like the wind is preferable to life with an idiot spinster who hollers a lot.
I hope I get to see her again.
(For purposes of stable mental health, Mo-ther and Aunt Chrissy have convinced themselves that the itty bitty baby deer was, in fact, not alone at all, but that her mother was situated just out of sight and was supervising nicely, thankyouverymuch.)
It took a while, but the old lady eventually calmed down, and just about the time I thought we would head to the big girl sleigh bed for a snoozy nap, she decided to "take care of a situation" that has vexed her for several years now with respects to a neighbor. This neighbor is dumber and more off her proverbial nut than my mom is (if you can believe that) and for some damn reason Mom decided that yesterday was going to be the day that she solved the world's problems once and for all.
Needless to say, she didn't.
But while she was on the telephone with the lovely Kyla from Whippany (regarding said neighbor), I heard yet another bellowing. This time it was "OH HOLY (*^%!!!!!! IT'S AN ORIOLE! AN ACTUAL REAL LIVE ORIOLE!!!!"
Kyla from Whippany (who was probably used to dealing with crackpot Hoosiers and their sudden outbursts) said (in her very best Jerseyesque) "What the *#&$&'s an oriole?" and proceeded to listen to my stupid mother describe the intensely bright orange colored bird that had landed on the Weber grill and was now looking at her with mock exasperation.
(Can you imagine what it must be like to be that bird? There you are, just minding your very own business, when out of nowhere you've got maniac spinsters hollering about you and how pretty you are.)
Needless to say, by the time my Aunt Chrissy called from her BatMobile to say that she was on her way home from work, Mo-ther was practically frothing at the mouth over all of the excitement over here. I tried to bribe my Aunt Chrissy to come over, and I even made promises of a gorgeous New York strip steak dinner, but alas, Aunt Chrissy opted to get into her jammies and stitch the night away in the peace and quiet of her own home instead.
(I wonder how long it would take for the two of them to notice if I were to move out of here and plant myself into Aunt Chrissy's guest suite?)
On the stitching front, I'm sad to report that Mo-ther is ready to throw her Stained Glass Windows project through the window. She just couldn't leave well enough alone and stitch it with the colors that Aunt Laura calls for. Nope...she had to try to be creative and come up with her own palette. As you can see, it's a disaster of epic proportions. (Never fear, though. Rumor has it that once these sedatives wear off, Mo-ther will feel very refreshed and clear-headed and will probably spend a few hours up in the studio making things right in the world once again).
That's the report for today, my dear friends. I do hope that this finds you considerably more at ease in your little corner of the world and that you are having a pleasant and stitch-filled day!
With much love from your pal,
Stewey
Jun 11, 2012
ON THIS EPISODE OF "LIFE AT SPINSTERS' CORNERS"
Scene: Early morning. Indiana, USA. A little dog wearing a silk smoking jacket stands at the patio door watching the activity in his mo-ther's recently installed bird sanctuary. He notices that all of the bird feeders are duly filled and cleaned, and that there is fresh water in the newly purchased bird drinking fountain/refreshment station. He glances at his empty tea cup and the remnants of his burnt-toast breakfast and sighs heavily.
STEWEY: Mo-ther, please come to the patio window. There's something I would like to show you.
MO-THER: Not now, Stewey. I'm trying to figure out the Jumble.
STEWEY: The answer is "leading man", Mo-ther, but you're never going to arrive at that answer because you have incorrectly assumed that the third word is "sandil". It is not.
MO-THER: (looking confused) What's it supposed to be?
STEWEY: It's "island". (He shakes his head in disbelief that an accredited university like Notre Dame could have blundered badly enough to have given this woman a diploma.) And, for the record, "sandil" is not a word that one finds in any dictionary. The correct spelling of the word you're thinking of is "sandAl".
MO-THER: OK, OK. Don't get your panties in a knot. I never said I was a good speller-er.
STEWEY: Will you please come here? I think it imperative that you witness what's happening right outside our window. Bring your little notebook, please. There's going to be a test on this later.
MO-THER: (ha-rumphing her way out of the Happy Chair with notebook in hand.) OK. What?
STEWEY: Do you see that mo-ther duck?
MO-THER: Yeah. So what?
STEWEY: Do you happen to notice that she is carefully standing guard while her seven little ducklings eat their breakfast?
MO-THER: (shrugs)
STEWEY: Mo-ther! You almost stabbed me with a fork when I so much as suggested that you consider a lovely quiche today, and when I asked for extra marmalade on my toast points you said (and I quote) "You're a freakin' dog. You'll eat what I give you and be glad it's not store-brand puppy chow."
(For a brief moment, the mo-ther considers arguing with the little dog. Then she glances at the freshly laundered drapes and mentally calculates the difference in time between just giving him what he wants and the time it would take to fetch the step ladder, take the drapes down, wash them, dry them, re-hang them, and then put the step ladder away.)
(She stomps to the kitchen muttering something about animal shelters and pet-free assisted living facilities.)
The little dog takes one more look at the mo-ther duck, admires the plumage on the seven duckings, and decides that it was indeed quote fortuitous that they happened to come by today. As the sounds of quiche-making comes out of the kitchen, he grins devilishly, lifts his leg, and pees on the drapes.
THE END
STEWEY: Mo-ther, please come to the patio window. There's something I would like to show you.
MO-THER: Not now, Stewey. I'm trying to figure out the Jumble.
STEWEY: The answer is "leading man", Mo-ther, but you're never going to arrive at that answer because you have incorrectly assumed that the third word is "sandil". It is not.
MO-THER: (looking confused) What's it supposed to be?
STEWEY: It's "island". (He shakes his head in disbelief that an accredited university like Notre Dame could have blundered badly enough to have given this woman a diploma.) And, for the record, "sandil" is not a word that one finds in any dictionary. The correct spelling of the word you're thinking of is "sandAl".
MO-THER: OK, OK. Don't get your panties in a knot. I never said I was a good speller-er.
STEWEY: Will you please come here? I think it imperative that you witness what's happening right outside our window. Bring your little notebook, please. There's going to be a test on this later.
MO-THER: (ha-rumphing her way out of the Happy Chair with notebook in hand.) OK. What?
STEWEY: Do you see that mo-ther duck?
MO-THER: Yeah. So what?
STEWEY: Do you happen to notice that she is carefully standing guard while her seven little ducklings eat their breakfast?
MO-THER: (shrugs)
STEWEY: Mo-ther! You almost stabbed me with a fork when I so much as suggested that you consider a lovely quiche today, and when I asked for extra marmalade on my toast points you said (and I quote) "You're a freakin' dog. You'll eat what I give you and be glad it's not store-brand puppy chow."
(For a brief moment, the mo-ther considers arguing with the little dog. Then she glances at the freshly laundered drapes and mentally calculates the difference in time between just giving him what he wants and the time it would take to fetch the step ladder, take the drapes down, wash them, dry them, re-hang them, and then put the step ladder away.)
(She stomps to the kitchen muttering something about animal shelters and pet-free assisted living facilities.)
The little dog takes one more look at the mo-ther duck, admires the plumage on the seven duckings, and decides that it was indeed quote fortuitous that they happened to come by today. As the sounds of quiche-making comes out of the kitchen, he grins devilishly, lifts his leg, and pees on the drapes.
THE END
Jun 6, 2012
BARNWOOD BUTTONS FEE NEE
Barnwood Buttons
Rosewood Manor
28ct. Raisin linen
WDW Light Khaki
I attached the very last button at the stroke of midnight while bellowing a hearty WOO HOO for all the world to hear. (Or, in my case, a quiet suburban neighborhood that is completely used to such bellows issuing forth from Chez Spinster.)
I just can't say enough about these buttons. Each one is prettier than the next, and I'm thrilled that Aunt Chrissy included them in the kit for me. They're a bit pricey...but definitely worth it, IMHO.
I think that this one might be my favorite:
The back patio and environs are prettier this year than they have been for several years past, and I suspect that it's because love is in the air. I was in my office yesterday and heard Stewey going bonkers from his little perch on the back of the loveseat, so I assumed that the squirrels were in the bird food again.
He's not a profiler exactly, but he does like a nice bird viewing session, and hates it when the squirrels take over the joint. He thinks they should find another establishment for their raucous parties.
So just as I was rounding the corner to the living room, I heard Stewey say...
"Oh, fair and gentle Daphne. How the light shines on your eyes of brown. The world weeps for such lovely beauty, and my heart yearns for your tender kiss." (*)
(Or something like that.)
Anywhoose....I figured that he was practicing his elocution with a little Shakespeare, but it turns out that he was wooing his new girlfriend.
Her name is, apparently, Daphne.
All of you animal lovers out there will notice that this picture was taken at three o'clock in the afternoon and that this little deer is a) by herself and b) not aware of the fact that she's supposed to be terrified of the little dog wearing the silk smoking jacket and quoting verse to her.
Aunt Chrissy and I are off to the Targets tonight. Provisions are getting low, and it's time to replenish the shelves. Then tomorrow night it will be grocery-getting time, and then Friday promises an evening at the Michaels to pick out a frame for Barnwood Buttons.
Exciting life we lead, no?
I hope that your corner of the world is lovely and safe and happy and full of threaded needles that are poking themselves through something. Stewey sends his very best, and if I can get his nose out of that damn book, we'll see if he can't provide you with a post or two.
Woo Hoo!
(*) Oh, give me a break already, will ya? I know it's not any good, but you try writing a love poem to a deer while simultaneously trying to channel the inner thoughts of a nine pound Jack Russell terrier wearing a silk smoking jacket.
May 31, 2012
IS IT STILL CALLED A NAP IF IT'S SEVEN HOURS LONG?
I blame Stewey for this one. Yesterday we got up at the crack of dawn to meet the A/C repairguy, and by the time he left I was already sleepy. That was at 9:30am. Then, after pushing myself out of the Happy Chair and into a few piddly chores, I spied Stewey standing in front of the bedroom door baby gate, looking pitiful and all "Hey, my dear sweet Mommie Dearest. Let's go take a quick snoozy nap to refresh our little selves", so I caved like the big fat pudding that I am.
Seven hours later I heard the answering machine beep and Aunt Chrissy's voice cheerfully say "Hi, Aunt CJ! Just wanted to let you know that I'm home from work all safe and sound. Wanted to see how your day was and whether or not you enjoyed this pretty sunshine!"
I briefly contemplated fibbing to her and coming up with a big long list of everything that I accomplished, but I came clean instead and braced myself for a load of guilt and recrimination.
Instead, Aunt Chrissy said "Well, it sounds like you really needed a good sleep", and I remembered why I love my little sister so much after all.
Seven hours later I heard the answering machine beep and Aunt Chrissy's voice cheerfully say "Hi, Aunt CJ! Just wanted to let you know that I'm home from work all safe and sound. Wanted to see how your day was and whether or not you enjoyed this pretty sunshine!"
I briefly contemplated fibbing to her and coming up with a big long list of everything that I accomplished, but I came clean instead and braced myself for a load of guilt and recrimination.
Instead, Aunt Chrissy said "Well, it sounds like you really needed a good sleep", and I remembered why I love my little sister so much after all.
May 29, 2012
JUST A LITTLE PROGRESS....
If I were to put my mind (and needle) to it, I might be able to complete this one within the next few days. Considering the move of Monday laundry to Tuesday, perhaps there's a chance we'll hear the pitter patter of tiny little 300-pound humming bird feet? Stay tuned.
May 28, 2012
MEMORIAL DAY 2012 -- SPINSTER STITCHER STYLE
May 25, 2012
HAPPY WEEKEND!
If you're state-side, please have a safe and relaxing Memorial Day weekend. If you're state-adjacent...ditto. If you're state-non-adjacent-but-we-have-CNN-and-know-what-all-of-you-crazy-Americans-like-to-do-to-kick-off-your-summer-holidays, then please do enjoy yourselves also!
Today will be a marathon homekeeping session (sounds so much nicer than "I'm going to strap on the big girl bike shorts and scrub the bathroom, doesn't it), followed by some marathon stitching and "Magic City" watching.
Tomorrow I'll probably go face first into a Tylenol bottle.
Mummus and mocktails on the patio with Aunt Chrissy and Bosco on Sunday!
And finally...Monday will hereby be established as the 2012 Official Spinster Stitcher Day of Stitching in the Jammies While Sipping Iced Cold Lemonade!
Woo Hoo!
Today will be a marathon homekeeping session (sounds so much nicer than "I'm going to strap on the big girl bike shorts and scrub the bathroom, doesn't it), followed by some marathon stitching and "Magic City" watching.
Tomorrow I'll probably go face first into a Tylenol bottle.
Mummus and mocktails on the patio with Aunt Chrissy and Bosco on Sunday!
And finally...Monday will hereby be established as the 2012 Official Spinster Stitcher Day of Stitching in the Jammies While Sipping Iced Cold Lemonade!
Woo Hoo!
May 23, 2012
A FUTZINGDAY REPORT FROM MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP, HIS VERY LITTLE SELF
Hello, one and all! My mom can't come to the blog right now because she's wandering aimlessly about the house muttering to herself. During the last lap around living room/dining room/kitchen I heard her say "Now I wonder where I put that power washer?". I don't have the heart to tell the old lady that we don't actually own a power washer (*), so until she starts moving large pieces of furniture around to search underneath, I think I'll let her go.
We're off to a relatively good start to the season here at Chez Spinster. Thanks to my Aunt Chrissy and her outside expertise, I'm happy to report that the back patio is sporting some lovely lovely blooms. Mo-ther got a bee in her bonnet this year and decided that she wanted the pretty in the back of the house instead of the front so that she could actually enjoy it, and thus far it's proving to be a good decision. Aside from a few pulled muscles and a lot of sweating and grunting and complaining (on Mo-ther's part), I would say that the planting went well.
The veggie garden is considerably downsized this year. Since cucumbers proved too difficult for my crop-challeneged mo-ther to attempt, we went with three simple groupings of tomatoes...one roma, one cherry, and one beefsteak. We'll see how long it'll be before we're all sporting bright red lips and mouth sores from all of the tomato sandwiches because nobody around here seems to have an ounce of self control when it comes to making wise food choices.
On the stitching front, Mo-ther continues her 300-pound hummingbird routine and flits from project to project until she collapses into a heap of frustration. She seems to be in a canvaswork mood, but every now and then I catch her with some cross stitch in her hands because she claims her arms are tired from propping up the stretcher bars. (I'm not sure why she makes this particular claim, especially since I would describe the body parts that prop up the stretcher bars more as "boobs" than "arms", but what do I know?)
Thank you for all of your lovely birthday wishes. I turned 7 this year on May 13. As you know, that was Mothers' Day, and it also happened to be the eighth anniversary of my grandfather's passing. Both Mom and Aunt Chrissy seemed out of sorts all day, so I didn't make any fuss over the lack of cake or party hats. Besides, whenever we try to have some kind of forced festivity around here, I'm usually the one ending up in time out for peeing on the ottoman.
So that's the report for today. Same old, same old. Life with Spinster will do that to a fellow, but every now and then it's nice to be sans drama.
Thanks for stopping by. Until we meet again, I remain your devoted and loyal friend,
Stewey
(*) The Spinster Stitcher does not own a power washer because her little sister overheard her musing about the effects of said power washer as a weekly cleaning tool for various and sundry parts of the interior of the house. Since the little sister has absolutely no intention of explaining to the nice repairmen how it is possible that one portly woman was capable of simultaneously stripping the finish off of hardwood floors while removing every molecule of paint from the walls and tile from the bath, she opted for a Swiffer wet mop instead. (The Spinster has yet to use it.)
We're off to a relatively good start to the season here at Chez Spinster. Thanks to my Aunt Chrissy and her outside expertise, I'm happy to report that the back patio is sporting some lovely lovely blooms. Mo-ther got a bee in her bonnet this year and decided that she wanted the pretty in the back of the house instead of the front so that she could actually enjoy it, and thus far it's proving to be a good decision. Aside from a few pulled muscles and a lot of sweating and grunting and complaining (on Mo-ther's part), I would say that the planting went well.
The veggie garden is considerably downsized this year. Since cucumbers proved too difficult for my crop-challeneged mo-ther to attempt, we went with three simple groupings of tomatoes...one roma, one cherry, and one beefsteak. We'll see how long it'll be before we're all sporting bright red lips and mouth sores from all of the tomato sandwiches because nobody around here seems to have an ounce of self control when it comes to making wise food choices.
On the stitching front, Mo-ther continues her 300-pound hummingbird routine and flits from project to project until she collapses into a heap of frustration. She seems to be in a canvaswork mood, but every now and then I catch her with some cross stitch in her hands because she claims her arms are tired from propping up the stretcher bars. (I'm not sure why she makes this particular claim, especially since I would describe the body parts that prop up the stretcher bars more as "boobs" than "arms", but what do I know?)
Thank you for all of your lovely birthday wishes. I turned 7 this year on May 13. As you know, that was Mothers' Day, and it also happened to be the eighth anniversary of my grandfather's passing. Both Mom and Aunt Chrissy seemed out of sorts all day, so I didn't make any fuss over the lack of cake or party hats. Besides, whenever we try to have some kind of forced festivity around here, I'm usually the one ending up in time out for peeing on the ottoman.
So that's the report for today. Same old, same old. Life with Spinster will do that to a fellow, but every now and then it's nice to be sans drama.
Thanks for stopping by. Until we meet again, I remain your devoted and loyal friend,
Stewey
(*) The Spinster Stitcher does not own a power washer because her little sister overheard her musing about the effects of said power washer as a weekly cleaning tool for various and sundry parts of the interior of the house. Since the little sister has absolutely no intention of explaining to the nice repairmen how it is possible that one portly woman was capable of simultaneously stripping the finish off of hardwood floors while removing every molecule of paint from the walls and tile from the bath, she opted for a Swiffer wet mop instead. (The Spinster has yet to use it.)
May 21, 2012
JUST THE FACTS, MA'AM
The Official 2012 Stewey Angus Willowswamp Summer Portrait
(with the official 2012 Summer Daisy, courtesy of Aunt Chrissy on the occasion of his 7th birthday)
(And yes, in case you were wondering, she purchases a daisy for him every year, and he spends the summer inspecting/enjoying it while lounging in the sunshine.)
Stained Glass Windows
Laura J. Perin
A Different View
Threedles
Hoosier Heartland ANG May 2012 project
Marnie Ritter
Alphabets
The Drawn Thread
(I had started this one previously on 32ct. linen, but decided that 28ct. would be much better for me.)
(I was right.)
May 18, 2012
WHAT'S NEW, PUSSYCAT?
Theories abound as to what the Spinster Stitcher and her little dog too could possibly be up to. In the interest of not losing ALL of her faithful friends and readers, here's a little quiz:
1. The Spinster Stitcher hasn't been posting to this here blog because she a) entered the Federal Witness Protection Program and is being held in a super-secret location, b) won the lottery and finally bought a yacht, c) decided to get a jump on Spring cleaning, or d) is taking a nap.
2. Stewey finds this lack of daily posting/blathering a) refreshing, b) delightful, c) what he's always wanted, or d) all of the above.
3. Aunt Chrissy wishes her idiot sister would go back to blogging again because a) she's tired of hearing about all of the crap on the to do lists that aren't getting done, b) she's tired of hearing about all of the crap on the to purchase lists that aren't getting purchased, or c) she's tired of hearing about all of the home improvement projects on the home improvement projects lists that aren't getting home improved.
4. The Spinster has been a) cross stitching, b) counted canvasing, c) painted canvasing, or d) taking a nap.
I do love you all for your comments and emails and such. Please don't fret or cry for me, Argentina. All will be well and I will be back soon. In the meantime, have a fabulous weekend and keep those needles flying!
1. The Spinster Stitcher hasn't been posting to this here blog because she a) entered the Federal Witness Protection Program and is being held in a super-secret location, b) won the lottery and finally bought a yacht, c) decided to get a jump on Spring cleaning, or d) is taking a nap.
2. Stewey finds this lack of daily posting/blathering a) refreshing, b) delightful, c) what he's always wanted, or d) all of the above.
3. Aunt Chrissy wishes her idiot sister would go back to blogging again because a) she's tired of hearing about all of the crap on the to do lists that aren't getting done, b) she's tired of hearing about all of the crap on the to purchase lists that aren't getting purchased, or c) she's tired of hearing about all of the home improvement projects on the home improvement projects lists that aren't getting home improved.
4. The Spinster has been a) cross stitching, b) counted canvasing, c) painted canvasing, or d) taking a nap.
I do love you all for your comments and emails and such. Please don't fret or cry for me, Argentina. All will be well and I will be back soon. In the meantime, have a fabulous weekend and keep those needles flying!
May 2, 2012
BLOG BREAK
Try not to have too much fun without me, kids. (tee hee!) I'm going to take a brief blogus interruptus, but promise to be back toot sweet!
Woo Hoo!
Coni
Woo Hoo!
Coni
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)