VICKY CHRISTINA WHAT THE HECK IS JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN DOING IN BARCELONA

So there I was, minding my own business and watching crap I've recorded on the DVR thingie, when all of a sudden....

OH MY GOSH! IT'S JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN AND HE'S IN BARCELONA WITH SCARLETT JOHANSEN!

What I didn't realize is the fact that Stewey had recorded a recent Woody Allen marathon and he was happily watching one of Woody's later films....Vicky Christina Barcelona. And, what also didn't register in my pea-sized little brain was that the handsome hubba hubba actor that was seducing these women right and left was not, in fact, my beloved Jeffrey Dean Morgan, but rather his Castillian cousin, Javier Bardem.

Ahem. For the Bardem.

My goodness gracious me, but that boy was lovely to behold. And he was a painter. And he liked to visit places. And he was kind to his father. And he knew how to fly an airplane the size of a queen sized mattress. And he was.....

Wow. Sorry. You lost me for a minute there.

Anywhoose....suffice it to say that I had never seen this guy before, so now I'm going to have to go find every single thing he's ever done and watch it all with rapt attention.

Speaking of attention....I finished another block of Strawberry Shortcake last night! I really liked this one and can't decide if it's my new favorite or if the next block I finish will be. Stay tuned.

CHA CHA CHA CHANGES (OH LOOK, ANOTHER OBSCURE MUSICAL REFERENCE)

So this whacky life I lead here in Hoosierville seems to be turned on its head lately. I'm not saying that this is a bad thing, but my happy little routines are requiring fine tuning that I just do not have the capacity to embrace.

In other words....I have a head like a rock.

Now for those of you who joined our heroine last year, you might be thinking that the changes I reference in the title of today's post are related to THE change, but alas, it is not so. The changes just refer to me and how I spend (um, er, I mean completely waste) a day.

This means nothing to anybody except me, of course, but being the nut job that I am, I am feeling particularly peevish about not spending at least nine and a half hours a day thinking about drivel and how I'm going to share it with my reading public.

(You didn't think this all came about naturally now...did you? I spend hours and hours and hours thinking about crap I can tell y'all and sometimes I even pretend that I'm waiting for you to come to lunch so that we can have diet Coke and solve the problems of the universe.)

But I digress.....

I suppose that what I'm really trying to say is that I am sorry that I have been completely half-assed and absent lately. Trust me when I tell you that a) I have not been abducted by handsome British chefs and am presently in a castle somewhere learning how to braise meat, b) I've not taken up any other hobbies (like archery or falconry or nuclear physics), and c) I'm not hard at work preparing my manuscript for the Nobel committee.

Truth is that I've been sitting in the Happy Chair staring at walls and squirrels and birds and raccoons and the hind end of one very miffed little Jack Russell terrier who thinks I should just admit that I am powerless in the face of SpringTide and then get the eff on with it already.

Really. I'm not kidding. He's majorly ticked off and I have the puddles to prove it.

So what is a Spinster to do? Call in the authorities? Take a pill or something? Revert back to the "old days" when I knew how to strap on the spandex stomach holding in panties and get stuff done?

Naaaahhhhh. I'm going to go take a nap. And then plop myself in the sun to see if I can soak up a little Vitamin D. And then maybe, just maybe, I'll put a freakin' needle in my hand and will finally have something to talk about with you other than the fact that I remain.....

You ever-loving crazy ass Spinster who just can't seem to ever get her proverbial act together,
Coni

WHERE HAVE YOU GONE, STITCHY MAGIO?

I know, I know, that title makes absolutely no sense to anybody who doesn't have the pea-sized intellect of my stupid mo-ther.

But she made me type it.

If I were 100% in charge of this entry, I would have started it by saying.....My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's too busy pouting in the corner that she has not had much stitchy time lately.

Well I say phooey on that. She has had PLENTY of time to play around with my Aunt Chrissy and her new BatMobile, and she even had time to laugh her silly head off tonight over my stinky little cousin playing in the water while Aunt Chrissy sprinkled the garden. It seems like she's been in some kind of stupor ever since the weather got nice, so I'm going to give her about ten more minutes of screwing around, and then I'm going to put my paw down.

I mean, after all....I can't be expected to entertain the masses all by myself now, can I?

Still very very warm and humid here in Hoosierville. I prefer to sepnd my days napping in the sunspots and waking for an occasional pee on the drapes. Ahhhh, the life of a pampered pup.

Happy Tuesday to all! Updates soon, or we'll start resorting to more drastic measures!

With love from your pal,
Stewey

Oh, and a P.S. to stitchy friend Denise.....YES indeedie! Absolutley everybody can do Strawberry Shortcake! The charts are very very clear and easy to read and once you get the feel of working on canvas versus linen, you'll love love love it as much as my mo-ther does! Go for it!

AND HERE WE ARRIVE AT MONDAY, ONCE AGAIN

The scene here at Chez Spinster is lovely and lazy for a Monday. Stewey awoke with the announcement that he intended to nap in the sun all day today and occasionally watch his little daisy grow.

Aunt Chrissy came to plant the garden on Saturday, so we will have farm fresh summer vegetables once again this year. We planted tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and broccoli in the garden bed and a few herbs and lettuces in the box thingie that shall heretofore be known as the herb and lettuce box.

I've managed to finish another block of Strawberry Shortcake and hope that I might be able to put thread to needle and needle to canvas all day today. We'll see how it goes.

I'm off like a herb of turtles. It's positively beastly outside today (at least for someone of my physical structure), so methinks a nice cold bevvie and some stitchy movie watching are exactly what will be on the official Spinster Stitcher Monday Afternoon Agenda As Was Approved By A Meeting Of The Executive Committee This Morning While Contemplating Getting Out Of The Big Girl Sleigh Bed.

So there.

FREAKIN' DATE NIGHT

So last night I decided that I would sit up in the buggy and get some stitching done. Just as I was getting into the Happy Chair, Stewey bolted from his perch and slapped an "OPEN" sign on the back patio door:

"Good evening! Tonight's selections include the chef's special blend of black sunflower seeds, accompanied by a lovely little Merlot imported from the Napa Valley. Shall I get you started with an appetizer while we await the arrival of your date?"

With that, I heard a lot of bitching and moaning and complaining about the lighting in the ladies room, and THE DATE arrived on scene: "I'm starving! What did you order for an appetizer? Is that waiter a little obnoxious, or what? How's my hair?"

Then, before I knew it, the place started to fill up with other parties anxious for a good table:

"I'm sorry, sir, but we'll have to seat you in the back. We only have tables for two on the patio this evening. Shall I take your lady friend's shawl?"

The patio diner suddenly realized that he was alone. He suspects that his date has retreated to the ladies' room once again...this time to fix her lipstick.

And so it goes. The Spinster dines alone, while her backyard is turned into Chez Stewey for the evening. I swear, I wouldn't have been at all surprised if a bear would have come out of the woods and requested a nice salmon with a little rice pilaf.

Damn nature.

I did manage to finish a block on Strawberry Shortcake! Only six more to go! Woo Hoo!

AND THEN THINGS CAME TO A SCREECHING HALT

Just when I thought it wasn't possible to go any slower with my stitching, I seem to have found a way to actually come to a complete stop. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

Now, please don't think that I've given up on it or that I'm going to find some other crazyass obsession to get me through the day...stitching is like air to me and I know that I'll get back on the horse eventually, but....

Last night I think I watched TeeVee. I say "I think" because when I went to bed I had absolutely no recollection of the previous four hours. Not one clue what I did to occupy my time between the hours of 7 and 11pm. Did I come up with a solution to the problems in the Middle East? Cure cancer? Solve the riddle of the ages as to why the hell they put ten hotdogs in one package and eight buns in another (or is it the other way 'round...I can never remember)? Read a book? Paint a picture? Clean a house or do a load of laundry?

Nope. Not a clue.

Stewey seems fine today. Well rested and watered and fed, so I must have paid some kind of attention to him. He doesn't seem to be sporting a tan, either, so I guess he didn't take the car keys and head to the beach for a little sun while I was "otherwise engaged". And, amazingly enough, the drapes are non-peed-on, so that little fact alone has me doing a jiggety jig jig today. (The fact that I forgot to shut the baby gate on my closet, which resulted in me having to re-wash all of the clothes on the lower portion of said closet is, however, a story for another day.) (Damn dog.)

So today I think I will enjoy sun sunshine and see if I can't put needle to thread or thread to canvas/linen.

Who knows? Maybe I'll actually remember it in the morning and we won't have to think about installing a spinster cam in the house after all.

HEY...IT'S PROGRESS

What can I say? Speedy Gonzales, I'm not.

A LITTLE MORE SHORTCAKE, IF YOU PLEASE

As has been previously mentioned on this here blog by Little Lord Fauntleroy His Very Naughty Self, the level of activity around here has been rather....um....how shall I put this?.....modest.

I am pacing myself, yes indeedie I am, but may I just point out that it is 8am on a Sunday and I am here at the 'puter writing my drivel while SOMEBODY remains snuggled under the covers in the big girl sleigh bed?

Now I know it drives you nuts that I call it the big girl sleigh bed, but it comes by that name honestly. When I lived in New Jersey, I went out and bought my very first piece of real estate. It was a momentous occasion for all involved, and you would have thought that the 800 square feet that comprised my condo in the sky was the Taj Freaking Mahal. Well, when I went to the closing, the nice people there handed me a check and said something about there being too much money in escrow (or some other obscure place that only bankers understand), and they told me to go buy myself something nice for my new house. So I did. I marched right into the nearest furniture store and said "Hi! I just bought my very first house and I need a big girl bed!". The saleslady took one look at me, and in her best Jersey accent said "Yeah, you sure do." (I presume that this was in reference to my girth, but who the heck knows what anybody in that part of the world usually thought of me?) So she marched me right over to where the beds were located and said "Here, hon. That's the one you want. I'll have it delivered on Tuesday. Where do you want it delivered?"

So that was that, and I finally had a big girl bed after years of sleeping on blow-up mattresses, waterbeds, and futons. And it's been my most very favorite thing in the whole wide world ever since.

Strawberry Shortcake continues, and I am still really loving every stitch of it. I'm not moving as quickly as I would like, but sometimes I guess I need to learn how to enjoy the process of it all rather than the progress. (Have you seen the stitchy question about that very subject out there in Blogville? I'm still formulating my response, but I think those that have answered it thus far have done so quite brilliantly.)

I'm rubbing my hands together and smacking my lips in anticipation of tonight's Tudors. I will confess that last week's episode was extremely hard to watch, so I'm hoping for something a little more uplifting tonight. Without giving too much away (although the fact that it's history kind of kills any surprises in the overall plot), I found myself feeling really really guilty that I had been wishing for Catherine Howard to "exit" the scene, and then, when she did, it was brutal. I mean baroo-tull. So there I sat, feeling really bad that I was cheering for her demise all these weeks, and I wondered if I could have grown to love her eventually?....

(pondering that thought for a moment)....

Nope. Couldn't stand her. And the fact that she was only fifteen didn't stir my normal instinct to protect and love all children (ahem). I wanted her g-o-n-e.

Oops. Didn't mean to go so far afield on this one. Here's the progress on SS:
And, just so you have something by which to compare it (is that even correct?):

I hope that your Sunday is fabulous and that you get to do whatever it is you want to do! As for me....I'm going to go wake up a sleepy dog and then laugh at his little bed head hair style. Bwa Ha Ha Ha Ha!

MY BABY TURNED FIVE YEARS OLD YESTERDAY (INSERT GAGGING NOISES HERE OVER THE RIDICULOUS REFERRAL TO HIM AS MY BABY)

The Master Stewey Angus Willowswamp His Very Little Self proudly announces that he is now a grown-ass adult puppytude of five. As such, he will now refrain from peeing on anything that is not Mommie approved. This, of course, is in exchange for certain new liberties that he shall henceforth be allowed in the way of TeeVee watching and overall general internet surfing.

(Oh, and by the way, Aunt Chrissy....thanks for the new $#(%* toy. He spent the better part of the evening throwing it off the bed and then giggling hysterically whenever Mommie Dearest here had to haul her fat heiney out of said bed to retrieve said toy from behind the dresser.)

Damn Aunt Chrissy.

SHE'S NOT LAZY...APPARENTLY, SHE'S PACING HERSELF

The level of activity here at Chez Spinster has crawled to a complete stop. Apparently, the ever burgeoning blossoms of SpringTide have rendered my stupid mo-ther incapable of doing anything productive with her time. This morning I caught her sitting in the Happy Chair watching a trio of ducks eat breakfast. What the hell comes next is beyond me.

The good news is that I obtained a catalogue from the Tractor, Farm, and Fleet Co., and thanks to my nifty little AMEX card, a brand new cattle prod should be here by the week's end. I might have to ask Aunt Chrissy to come over to show me how to use it, since I'm fairly certain that she has intimate knowledge of these things. (Let's just say that my Aunt Chrissy can be a very "effective motivator" and leave it at that).

Speaking of the dear heart that would never ever hurt or smack her little baby nephew, she came over last night with a present for Mommie Dearest. This whole Tudor thing has the two of them calling each other "Your Majesty" whenever they talk on the phone (which is all the time, by the way), and every time Aunt Chrissy says "After you, Your Grace", Mom dissolves into a puddle of giggles. (I swear, sometimes I think there's a special place in Heaven for pups like me that get stuck with idiots for their people.)

Anywhoose....here are the Tudor Rose scissors and Crown needle minder. Aren't they pretty? You can also see the ridiculously pitiful progress Mom's making on Strawberry Shortcake. I'm not sure why the heck she didn't just push through to finish that second block, but I overheard her mutter something about wanting to save the stitching with the Belle Soie silks for today. This leads me to think that she's savoring those center pieces in the exact same fashion that she has been eating the giant bag of peanut M&M's that came home in the Target bag....just a little taste at a time.

This, of course, will go down in history as the first time my mo-ther has ever done ANYTHING in moderation, so I suppose it warrants a few pats of encouragement from me later today. I hadn't planned on paying any attention to her this week, but apparently a few little noodges from me every now and then gives her motivation to actually move a limb or change out of her sweatpants. I know, I know. It's not much. But at least it let's me know that she's still in there somewhere. Damn Mommie.

I do hope that you are in the midst of a fabulous week and that your own level of production is exactly what you need it to be! Stay tuned for the cattle prod application results. Until then, I remain....

Your humble and loving pal,
Stewey

EASY LIKE A SUNDAY MORNING

After a rather uneventful Saturday, Stewey and I awoke to a lovely sunny morning. Considering it's Mother's Day and all, I half expected a lovely little brunch and some serious Kindle reading in the big girl sleigh bed, but he had other ideas. I suppose when you're only four years old and don't have any workable thumbs, you get a pass, but would a little toast have killed him?

I played around with various stitchy things yesterday. First up is the Big Zipper kit from 2009. I'm doing this on 32ct. linen rather than the 18ct. burlap that came in the kit, but for some strange reason I can't get my heiney in gear on this one. I only managed to get a little part of the fence done in the lower right box:

Then I started futzing around with the mail and other crap that's been piling up on my desk and I came across a little kit that I purchased from Sue Spargo:
I am determined to learn how to do wool applique, and this project seemed like a good place to get my feet wet. It came with everything I need to make a needlebook, and after a quick glance at the directions, I think that even I will be able to figure it out.

Aunt Chrissy and Bosco came for dinner and a little TeeVee watching last night, so I decided to start something new. This is Strawberry Shortcake from Needle Delights Originals, and I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying it! I already knew that I love to work with Caron Watercolours, but now I am developing a very serious addiction to Crescent Colours Belle Soie silks. I had never worked with them before, but Aunt Chrissy raves about them. Now I see why:
Methinks that by the time I finish this project I will be headed to a LNS to invest in a few more skeins for the 'ol stash. It's delicious. It really is.

I crack myself up over this one, since for the entire forty-four years I've been on this planet I've always said "Oh, no thank you. I don't care for strawberries". Yet for some strange reason, I buy (and eat) pints and pints and pints of them and I have never....not even once....turned down the opportunity to stuff myself full of them when it comes to them in shortcake fashion. What the heck is up with that? Could it be that I actually LIKE...dare I say LOVE...strawberries and I never knew it??!!! I'm thinking that this will involve some very serious study this summer, so stay tuned for the scientific results as tabulated by the accounting firm of Bippity, Boppity, and Boo.

For all you mothers out there...woo hoo for you! Enjoy your day!

JUST ANOTHER CRAZY DAY IN SPINSTERVILLE

Before we commence with today's festivities, I wanted to take a moment to answer a question from dear lovely reader, Casey. In the comments section of my post about the bare bottoms and boobies in The Tudors, Casey asked if there was any torture on the show.

Well...um...dear me, how do I answer this delicately....

Yes, dear. There is a bit of torture in the show, especially if you consider the lopping off of one's head for birthing a baby minus a peenie. Or the disemboweling of your boyfriend because he got caught in your "royal chambers". Or for committing treason. Or when you wake up and realize that marrying a seven-year old and expecting her to have half a brain was probably not your finest moment as the King of England, and you move on to wife number six while they're hauling wife number five's crap out the back door of the castle.

Now let me answer this withOUT my smartass hat perched on my head....

Unfortunately, there is a fair amount of violence on this show that makes you cringe at the ridiculous cruelty that people can inflict on one another. Realizing that most (if not all) of it is for ratings and shock value, I would say that if you don't feel a little queasy in some parts, you're much stronger than I am.

So, again, please watch at your own discretion.

Moving right along, I don't have one damn thing to show you on the stitchy front. Aunt Chrissy and I had a lovely dinner of grilled chicken, asparagus, and baked potatoes followed by my falling asleep in the Happy Chair at 8:45. I thought I would at least make it through an episode or two of (see above), but Stewey and I hit the hay before the sun was fully set. I don't think I've done that since the third grade.

So today I will fish through my Spinster Stitcher Basket of Springtide Fun to see what will be next in line. Methinks it will be Cirque de Fleur, since I am behind with my lessons (gasp, sigh, blushing furiously). If that doesn't quite blow my skirt up, I'm pretty sure that I should be able to find something suitable from the eighty-eight projects that are kitted up and/or started in there already.

Happy Wednesday!

Well, would you look at that.....it's Thursday!

Happy Thursday!

PARENTAL ADVISORY

Hi folks...just a quick second post for today.

I feel it only fair that I advise/warn you that if you have not seen The Tudors yet and you intend to do so based upon my recommendation, you should know the following:

While loosely based on history, this particular program does contain a whole lot of nudity and "adult situations". In other words, please prepare yourselves for some heavy boinking, as well as a fair share of boobies. Oh, and a few heineys of both the male and female varieties.

I'm having nightmares that y'all will gather your families around the TeeVee with the big bowl of popcorn and settle in for a night of viewing based upon the fact that "that crazyass spinster" suggested that this might be a really good show. Or that you'll take it to your fifth grader's history class and suggest that it might be a fun way for the kids to learn about Tudor England. (I can see it now...the Mayberry Post Intelligencer uncovers massive porn ring run by a portly spinster in the Midwestern United States. Film at eleven.)

This show is definitely NOT for those with delicate sensibilities. (Like Stewey....who covers his eyes with his paws when so much as a neckline is exposed.)

Thank you for your attention. We'll return now to our regularly scheduled programming.

THAT'S BETTER

I am poised and ready for a Happy Dance...just need to secure all the wobbly bits and odd pieces of furniture so that nobody/nothing gets hurt.

The new color is much brighter, I'll admit, but I figured that something springy and light green would be just fine for the daisy. And, since this is the only thing that I had that came close to what I was looking for, I went with it. It's Splendor 922.

Thanks for all of your encouragement and enabling on the whole Tudor front. Last night I decided to try a little experiment to see if I could forgo the obsessive episode watching that has consumed my every waking moment for the last two weeks.

Turns out...I couldn't. So if you'll excuse me, I have some serious Henry-ing to do!

Happy Wednesday (is it Wednesday already?!), and Happy SEEN CO DEE MY OH! Woo Hoo for margaritas on the patio tonight!

ONE STEP FORWARD, A FEW STEPS BACK

So I was humming right along on Daisy when it occurred to me that you could not see the lettering because the green for the stem and leaves is too dark. The silk is lovely...don't get me wrong. It's just a very dark green that decided it wanted to swallow the lettering.

A few minutes with the seam ripper and we're good as new. Now all I need to do today is find a lighter shade of green silk and finish'er up! Woo Hoo!

WHO'S HAPPIER THAN ME?

Saturday was supposed to be a "let's run around and do all of our errands day", but I wimped out and cleaned the house instead. Aunt Chrissy did the very same to her Chez Stitchy, so by the time the sun went down there were two very happy spinsters in Hoosierville. It must've been the moon..or maybe the tides....because even Stewey got a scrubby bath with good 'ol Irish Spring soap. (And yes, in the event you were wondering, I did , in fact spend the rest of the night cuddling him and sniffing all of the clean soft downy fur puppy goodness.)

In addition to this, I finally decided how to finish Shepherd's Bush My Land:
As you can see, I opted not to stitch the entire song around the edges, but rather use only a few of the words at the very bottom. I even fished out the graph paper and everything so that I could have some semblance of order when it came to the actual lettering. What do you think? Can we call this another finish for 2010 and whisk it off to the Michael's for some framing action?

I was still on a roll, so I picked up La-D-Da's Daisy Daisy Kit and got quite a bit done. I know I say this every time (and then never do), but methinks this will stay next to the Happy Chair until the last stitch is completed:


Other happenings are just as dull around here. I'm still watching/obsessing over all things Tudors, and have now managed to see all of the available episodes at least four times. (I know, I know....an intervention is definitely in order, but when the view from the Happy Chair looks like this on a lazy Sunday, who am I to complain):


Stewey is anxiously waiting for his BFF Aunt Chrissy to arrive. She made him a pedicure appointment for this afternoon, so he's really looking forward to spending some quality time with a life form that he feels adequate to his intellect. Damn dog.


I hope that you're off to a good week! We're plodding along like a herd of turtles around here and should make it to Friday before we figure out what hit us.

AND THERE WAS HAPPY DANCING AND WOBBLING AND ALL WAS WELL ONCE AGAIN

Love the Spring

Shakespeare's Peddler

32 ct. Spice Blend Celtic linen from Stitches and Spice

Thread Gatherer Silk 'n Colours

ALMOST THERE....

I'm so close on this I can almost feel the wobbly bits bouncing around now (as I happy dance, of course). (But then again, sometimes my wobbly bits wobble all by themselves without the least little provocation from me whatsoever.)

WHY I'M HIDING THE REMOTE CONTROL BY MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP, HIS VERY LITTLE SELF

My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's in bed sleeping off a stitchy hangover of epic proportions.

It all started after my Aunt Chrissy went home for the evening. Apparently, the two of them decided to go to Five Guys for burgers, because when they got home, I heard Mom muttering something to Aunt Chrissy about how they should call them Crack Burgers because they're so addictive. (This, of course, was said through a mouth-full of fries, which resulted in a malt vinegar and ketchup stain on her sweatshirt will be the bain of my laundry existence today.)

Just as I was about to snuggle in on my perch for a little light reading (I'm a little behind on my New Yorker issues), mo-ther started pacing about the house looking for something to do. So I got off of my perch, sighed heavily, and planted her in the Happy Chair with her stitchy project and a dietCoke for company.

Not three minutes went by before Mom had the remote control pointed in the general direction of the TeeVee armoire (I swear, she doesn't realize that you actually have to aim properly when you use the damn thing), and the OnDemand menu came up before I knew what hit me.

Yup. You guessed it. Tudors.

You do realize that she's already seen every single episode at least four times, right? And you also realize that I've caught her on the puter no less than ten times looking at amazon.com for the availability of the box sets...so much so that I've now activated a parental lock on the account so that it will take her the rest of her life to figure out why she can't shop in her underpants anymore.

Anywhoose...the hangover is a result of her re-watching the first six episodes while maniacally stitching away on her project. I think she managed to finish all of the lettering and now has only a few moteefs to go, but I'm concerned that instead of the lovely verse about Springtime, we'll end up with the words boinking, Henry, and your grace. (Not necessarily in that order, by the way.)

I understand that 2011 will bring us The Borgias, so I'm preparing myself now. But I have to tell you....if she re-decorates this house one more time to mimic the set decorations on these soap operas, I'm going to have to call somebody.

After all...I can only pee on so many drapes at a time.

Happy Wednesday to you all. If the old lady ever stops snoring and comes to her senses, I'll have her take some pics of her progress on Love the Spring. It's really quite pretty, actually, and I can hardly wait to see it in finished pillow form as a perfect little accessory to my boudoir.

With love from your pal,
Stewey

OH, HENRY!

Well, here we go again....off on another obsessive compulsive TeeVee watching tangent that will cost me 39 hours of my life and about sixty bucks at amazon.com to own the set.

It all started innocently enough. My stupid cable company was stupid enough to give me Showtime for a week for free. And since I'm stupider than the stupid cable company, it wasn't four minutes before I was on the phone with the customer service representative ordering it for Chez Spinster on a permanent basis.

At first, Aunt Chrissy and I got hooked on Nurse Jackie, and we both marveled at the fact that Carmella Soprano and Fr. Intintolla could look so completely different without the priest's collar and the acrylic nails. (I got those reversed, I think, but you get the idea.)

Then...very innocently, Aunt Chrissy says to me "You know, I hear that The Tudors is supposed to be pretty good. Wanna' watch it?"

Four days later and I am stunned into submission. At first I was disgusted with myself that I seemed to have fallen asleep for most of the time I was supposed to have learned all about this stuff in school, but then it dawned on me that the versions of Tudor England that the nuns taught us looked NOTHING like a nekkid Jonathan Rhys Meyers and/or his many conquests.

(In my Henry VIII delirium, I even called my friend Kavanaugh and shouted into the phone: "Hey Kavanaugh! YOU HAVE TO WATCH THE TUDORS ON SHOWTIME!!! IT'S THE SOPRANOS FOR YOUR PEOPLE!!!".)

(Oh, and in the event that dear Kavanaugh is reading this...yes, about two seconds after I hung up the phone I smacked myself on the forehead and realized that you are, in fact, Irish, and NOT English.) (Or British.) (Or whatever you say when someone was born in England and not Ireland.)

But back to the nekkid Jonathan Rhys Meyers. (And just about everybody else in the series by the way..my goodness, but these people were frisky!) If history in this form would have been available to me as a young scholar, perhaps I would have actually paid attention? And the intrique! The backstabbing! The shenanagins that would make Paulie Walnuts look like Mister Rogers! Why couldn't I have learned and/or appreciated this when it was time for me to actually learn it? Why? Why did I think that the goings on of boy/girl relations at St. Charles grade school were so much more interesting than Henry VIII changing the entire course of human history?

Anywhoose...I am enthralled with this and am happy to report that I've stopped feeling ashamed that I am so completely dense when it comes to history (well, anything really), and I've set about the task of learning a little more. (This thought came to me in the middle of the night as I was tossing and turning over what an ignoramus I am...I bolted upright in bed and said (God knows, to no one in particular)....I CAN READ! I CAN READ AND I HAVE A KINDLE!!!).

So I've downloaded a few books that are all history-like and maybe, just maybe, I will actually learn something.

Oh, and just a quick note to you Brits....I envy your fascinating history and the fact that you could spend your entire life examining the inner workings of various kings and queens. Now before you reply that we have a little history over here, may I just point out that reading about Dwight and Mamie Eisenhower comes nowhere close to seeing King Henry VIII go completely off his nut for Anne Boleyn?

In addition to all of this Tudor obsessing and TeeVee watching, I did manage to get a fair amount done on Love the Spring:
Yes, I know that the name on the bottom of my sampler is NOT the name that is on the bottom of the chart, but I decided to put Mom and Dad and the year they were married on this. I don't think I've ever stitched a sampler that is supposed to have a name on it, and since I'm not cavorting about the country exhibiting my "official reproduction samplers", I didn't think anybody would mind. (And yes, I know that my dad didn't have an "s" at the end of Robert, but the name Vaceila Roberts is very very dear to Aunt Chrissy and I for a super secret reason, so I went with it.)

Nothing much to report on the Stewey front, other than the fact that Aunt Chrissy was amazed at his torpedo-like blazing speed as he chased after a duck. We have a little family of three ducks that frequent our houses and when Aunt Chrissy opened the back door to let Stewey outside, he took off like a shot and almost caught one. She was completely impressed with his athletic prowess, and has promised not to make fun of his fussy little gentleman tendencies anymore. He, on the other hand, has promised to leave the ducks alone and not break up what appears to be a rather interesting combination....a female and two males. We've speculated that it might be a mom, a dad, and a son still living at home, but it could also be a husband and wife and the brother-in-law Phil. (For the sake of conversation, let's just assume that Phil's wife Betty is off in Vegas playing Keno and having a few rounds of tequila shooters. The thought of this poor little guy not having a mate is too sad to bear.)

So that's the report for today. Just the usual crazy antics of a spinster and her little dog. I hope that your weekends were full of something delicious...