Sew, what's up now?

It's been a long time since I've taken on more than one sewing (crafting) project at a time but for some reason I've bitten off a bit more than I normally do.

For starters, I finally bought (at 40% off) some batting for my quilt top and as soon as I have some 'Wilbur free' time, I'll get it put together. Unfortunately for me, as soon as I lay anything on the floor, Wilbur (our vicious pit bull) gives me his best cat impersonation, and lies all over it!

I opened up the package of batting and it's so stinking soft I almost hate to hide it between the quilt and its backing.

Almost.

And what's this? OMG, it's yarn! My middle daughter is having a very difficult time with depression and anxiety, and she thought that maybe if she took up a hobby like crocheting it might help to calm her nerves. Yesterday she brought her supplies to my apartment and made a small stab at it.

After she left I did a bit of googling and found some fabulous sites and YouTube videos that show people crocheting the most unbelievable things; rugs made out of thrifted sheets, sandals and dog leashes from recycled plastic bags... and in my attempt to understand and help, I ended up getting myself worked into a lather and bought a skein of yarn (I already own a crochet hook). However, most of my enthusiasm went by the wayside when I actually attempted to 'crochet'. Way back in the day I crocheted an afghan so I know I can do it, it'll just take a bit of time.

I'm just not so sure this is going to be a calming activity.

Today I took her to the market district which just happens to have an incredible fabric store. I mean a store with 'real' silk, designer quilt fabrics, and notions to die for!

I asked her if she'd like me to make her a bag and when she replied in the affirmative I expansively told her to pick anything she wanted. We ended up with these two (very expensive although she didn't have a clue) Amy Butler prints and matching acrylic buttons. The fabric colors are brick and gold but to me they are brick and green (my dad is completely color blind and my sister and I are color shy! Not a good thing when it comes to picking out fabrics!).

Anyway, she likes slouchy bags and I think I have a good idea of what I want to do and I also plan on making it reversible. And I think I'll have enough fabric for a matching wallet and maybe even a small purse for me!

Wish me luck!

Here's Wilbur, the vicious pit bull, I mentioned earlier.

He's my boyfriend!

We are all out for Olympic Curling!!

After cleaning three houses and then getting stuck behind 'Oh My God it snowed two weeks ago and I still don't know how to drive' people (thus turning my quickie drive home into an hour and a half torture), I arrived home from work last night to find Hans lounging on the futon and glued to the TV.


He was watching the Olympic Curling Competition.

He then asked me what I was making for dinner.

He is still among the living.


But apparently Curling isn't just for people, but for pitties also! This is Brinks (appearing on Pitter Patter) and he is currently carrying on a long distance relationship with Hayleigh. They correspond their unrequited love through blogdom and depending upon my state of mind I find them to be sweet (un-PMS) or completely heart breaking (full PMS) .

I start every day by reading Pitter Patter, and my brilliant (?), wonderful, exceptionally smart(?) grand-dog Duncan has been featured on their site two times, yet I still remain humble.

Anyway, this afternoon Baby Girl called me once again and wanted to know if I'd finalized my travel plans. For some reason she thinks I should attend spring break, in Florida, with her and her college lacrosse team this March. Since I had no intention of going, I told her no.

"You're going with us." she stated. "Call First Born (my son) and see if he's coming too."

I called First Born. "What's up?" I asked, and he told me he was watching Curling.

Knowing First Born (a former hockey player), I laughed, "C'mon, you're kidding!"

"I'm one hundred and ten percent positive," he stated. "I love curling; it's fascinating and there's so much strategy!" And then he went on and on about the rules (many), the ice (pebbled), and that he and his friends have been researching the whole sport and fully intend to participate in the 2014 games.

Their future coach weighs 310 pounds and therefor won't be allowed on the ice lest he crack it.

First Born and his closest friends will be the 'team,' and my nephew (past state champion hockey goalie), and a good friend (comic relief) will be the alternates.

We talked a bit about spring break, I ran the dates by him, and he said he'd call me back.

The next thing I knew, he'd booked my flight, using his frequent flier miles, and I haven't even asked for the time off from work yet!

So with Hans and First Born (and Brinks) getting all caught up in the whole Curling thing I decided to watch it too.

I love it!!! I found my heart pounding as fast as their brooms were swishing!!!


It's kind of scary though, like what's next? Bowling? Bass fishing? Watching paint drying?


I don't care, as long as it entertains me!

We survived Christmas

I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't even wrap presents until Christmas Eve. I used to complain that if I only had more time, I'd have everything done ahead of time.

Well I do, and I didn't!

I didn't even buy name tags so Hans had to improvise with this.

I think he did a fine job!

Christmas isn't relaxing to begin with but it was even less fun to drive a nerve wracking 2 hours in 'almost' freezing rain to my parents' house. Since I'm the kind of back seat driver that can make even Hans (the most patient man on the face of the earth) want to toss me out of a moving vehicle, I drove.

Even in the pouring down rain all the highway signs still had festive icicles hanging from them which made me nervous, and also made for a very tedious trip.

Look at the smug face on Miss Kissy Pooh, my parents' obnoxiously spoiled doberman.

She's quite pleased with herself because she ended up causing a scene and getting her cousin Rambo in trouble.

BTW, that's her Christmas present lying there between her legs. It's a squeaky duck, and as always she opened her present all by herself.

Here's Rambo the offender.

This sweet and very meek guy got into trouble for 'attacking' Kissy Pooh.

But I bet I know exactly what happened.

I think Kissy Pooh stuck her tongue out at Rambo and said, "NaNaNa!! I got a present from Sandy Paws and you didn't!!! I got a toy, and a sparkly gold collar, and I'm pretty, and I have an expensive supply of blood at the vet's because the people I own think I'm a hemophiliac even though I've been bitten by woodchucks, and one time by a muskrat, and I have yet to 'bleed out', and I get birthday cakes every year..."

And that's about the time Rambo the Husky had heard enough, and fixing his icy blue eyes on her said, "I'd hate to see that blood supply go to waste." And he charged her.

That's it. Nothing happened but, oh my what an upset! What a commotion! Kissy Pooh was stunned! She nearly turned herself inside out, and then my dad ran to my mother and tattled on Rambo. My mom burst into the room, and with a cigarette hanging out of the side of her mouth she shouted, "Goddamit! We don't put up with bad manners in this house!" And Rambo got sent upstairs for a time out.

Smoky the cat was the survivor of the day as far as I'm concerned.

Here he is on the kitchen table (his favorite hangout) after a wild bout of wrestling with the green catnip mouse that Sandy Paws brought him.

"Man, that was some good stuff." he said.

My parents' TV was on full blast all day long and I caught Hans doing this just about the time Ralphie and his Red Ryder BB gun was playing for the umteenth time.

Hans and I don't appreciate the same movies and I forced him to watch Ralphie (he'd never seen it from beginning to end before) the previous night.

Poor guy.

While Rambo was in time out, the ever innocent Miss Kissy Pooh checked out my niece's birthday cake. Her birthday is on Christmas day and when she was little she used to say, "Jesus was born on my birthday." She's never lacked self esteem.

I'm glad to report we had a much easier time on our ride home. Hans drove, and after he informed me that he knows how to use his high beams, I shut up! After unloading our junk we fished a very upset and crying Countess von Chlorox out from under the bed, and I have no idea what was wrong. Even the lure of Greenies wouldn't budge her.

All is now well, I've had my bourbon, Hans his beer, and The Countess finally ate her treats and even purred a bit.

Next up; New Year's Eve!!!!

I can't wait.

I can't think of a title that's appropriate for this post.

Vet Tech Girl phoned me this morning to tell me she was on her way back to our old home town. Her grandmother (my former mother-in-law) is not expected to live much longer and she wanted to see her while she was still conscious. It's been 18 months since her grandma was diagnosed with cancer and it's followed a pretty predictable path. My ex-husband has always been extra close to his mother and I'm pretty sure he's very upset and not dealing with this very well.

It was when Vet Tech Girl informed me that time was running out very quickly that I was reminded of a morbidly weird event that happened to me about 20 years ago.

I'm not being disrespectful here, because this really did happen.


My ex-husband's grandfather (on his paternal side) whom we called Gigi, was in his 80's had been experiencing declining health for about 2 years. Now, this isn't an uncommon thing, but the family always seemed to be somewhat hysterical about it. Gigi lived about 2 hours away from us, and Uncle Bob, who was a 'loud talker' and often said the wrong thing at the wrong time, lived next door to Gigi and Grandma, and kept us updated on Gigi's condition. It was Uncle Bob who one time, at the top of his lungs, announced to everyone (very erroneously I might add) that my ex suffered a speech impediment as a child. My ex never forgave him and I never heard the end of it.


It was understood that no one was to consider going away for vacations, long weekends, etc... because Gigi (who was usually out mowing the yard or planting a garden) might expire at any minute. I, for one, have never had any patience with people who get worked up in this way. My going on vacation is not going to cause someone to die, and even if I'm around when they do, am I going to bring them back to life?


Anyway it almost became a monthly event that Uncle Bob would call and announce that Gigi was at death's door, and everyone needed to get to the hospital NOW to say goodbye. I had three little ones at the time so I would stay home and my ex would drive down with his parents' to pay their last respects. This usually happened on the weekends and it would ruin my ex's golf plans.


They would get to the hospital in time to find Gigi enjoying his evening meal, or his breakfast, or being checked out of the hospital. After almost every 'at death's door' call, Gigi would replace a down spout, or a concrete slab in their sidewalk, and I grew weary of the whole thing.


So I really didn't worry too much the night the call came, that Gigi was in the hospital and not expected to make it. I was at work the next morning when Uncle Bob called my inlaw's and hysterically announced that Gigi had died during the night and everyone had to come NOW! My father-in-law immediately took off for the hospital, my ex volunteered to go home (we worked for the same company and we were allowed 3 paid bereavement days) to watch the kids while my mother-in-law (our babysitter) went to get her hair done.

I stayed at work.
The union called and asked where to send flowers and a bible.
I didn't know.
The secretary to our CEO called and asked where to send flowers.
I didn't know.

It was around one o'clock in the afternoon that I received a call, and I couldn't understand what the caller was saying.
It was my ex.
In a strangled voice it sounded like he said, 'He's not dead."
"Who's not dead?" I asked.
That's when everyone in the room looked up at me.
"Gigi, he's not dead!" He shouted.
"What the hell do you mean he's not dead?" I shouted back.
By then I had everyone in the room's attention.
Apparently my father-in-law had arrived at the hospital in time to find that, not only was his father not dead, he was being fed lunch.

Two days later when we were once more informed that Gigi was dead, I swore that I wouldn't believe it until I saw him in his casket.

He was and I did. But if he'd sat up and asked what was for lunch I wouldn't have been surprised.


The real kicker to this story was that my ex was hauled into his supervisor's office and given a demerit. This is because his missing a half day of work for the false alarm was an unexcused absence in the eyes of the corporation for whom we worked. And any employee receiving 5 demerits in one year would be fired.


"Imagine," I said to my ex, "If Gigi had 'died' four more times, you would have lost your job!"

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when he found someone else he liked better!