Wilbur Jekyll and Wilbur Hyde

Last night I decided to dig out my Puff Purse Pattern.
As you can see it didn't turn out nearly as nice as it should have but it'll do.

I underlined the very thin and shifty (sounds kind of criminal doesn't it?) silk with some duck cloth. I also added interfacing to the body, but not the sides.

I didn't glue the frame to the bag. For one thing, my glue went bad, and I also knew I'd get it all over the place. Luckily this frame has holes in it for sewing so that's what I did.

In my infinite wisdom (insert sarcasm here), I decided to add a strap to convert it into a wristlet.

I didn't have any swivel hardware on hand so I just sewed the 1/2 inch strap into a seam. It's too clunky and does NOT look right, but too late now. At least I won't have to clutch it all evening long.







Here you can see how very petite it is!

Just the right size for a pretty kitty.

Chlorox is concerned that the intensity of the green in the purse might take away from the green in her eyes.

And the Countess will not be upstaged!








Today started out wonderfully.

Hans nor I had to work so I suggested a sojourn that included finding my mother a nice hanging basket for Mother's Day, and taking Wilbur to a boat launching sight on the river to see if he likes water.

The trip to the market was very successful and I bought the biggest, fullest (and most expensive), hanging moss basket full of petunias and verbena that I've ever seen. I could barely carry it out of the stalls and I actually called out "wide load" (to some people's amusement) while attempting to do so.


Hans and Wilbur waited outside very patiently for me as there was no room for a rambunctious pit bull (or a Big German Man for that matter) in the narrow isles of the mini greenhouse.

The aromas from nearby eateries convinced us to stop for lunch so we found a restaurant with outside seating and got a pizza. And for the record, let me say that until Wilbur came into our lives we have never received so much attention.


People came out of the woodwork to see him, pet him, exclaim over him, and just adore him. We heard stories of people who've adopted pitties and pitty mixes, and will never own another breed of dog in their life. The street musicians (whom I'd tipped earlier) stopped playing their instruments and begged to pet him. And of course one of them has a pitty/red bone mix (abandoned female breeder rescue) that he loves to death.

An older Indian gentleman was very enamored of Wilbur, whom he declared to be an almost twin to his nine year old pitty that he too, got from a shelter. He looked him over from head to tail and noted that while Wilbur is missing the white tip to his tail that would mark him as a pure pit bull, he still has the classic underbite that's a pit bull trait. He remarked a couple of times that he'd take Wilbur in an instant if he could.


We then headed off to the boat launch and Wilbur took to the water in a very good way. People feed ducks at this location so there was a lot of popcorn floating on the water. I only wish I'd had my camera with me to film him clumsily attempting to 'paw' the popcorn closer to him in order to eat it.

And then we got home, I went to the grocery store, and all hell broke loose.


Hans met me at the door with a myriad of complaints of how naughty Wilbur had been while I was gone, and then said I wouldn't be at all happy with what had occurred on the deck.

That's when I screamed, "Oh my God, my plant!" and ran for the back door.

I was greeted with complete carnage and I was furious (and not with the dog)!

Thank God Hans stopped Wilbur before he did too much damage because Wilbur was enthusiastically pruning the petunia to nothing when he was caught.


It looks a bit thinner but it'll be ok.

I took Wilbur out onto the deck later with his new peanut butter bone and he was a sweetie! He's always good for me.

I'm feeling a very deja vu moment about this situation.

Why is it that you can't leave men alone with the kids while you're gone?