I interupt this sewing blog to bring you news about our new baby!

Wilbur practices his snobby 'I'm too good for everyone' look.

He loves the color orange.

He told me so!

When we move onto the boat we're hoping to have Wilbur trained to go potty on a mat. We would like to think he's young enough to learn.

This mat is supposed to be Wilbur's port-a-potty. But with the warm sun on that black background, he had other ideas!!

The futon was to be "paws off" to all poochies.

But it only took one day for me to walk in on this!

Hans, who outweighs Wilbur by about 240 pounds, said Wilbur wouldn't allow himself to be pushed off!

I was trying to make a floor pillow for Wilbur and I discovered that he likes to sew too! Chlorox (who is not at all happy with this newcomer) jealously watched from our bed as Wilbur wiggled all over his fabric.

Wiggling on fabric is her job!

Here's his floor cushion made from left over Steeler fleece.

All I know is, Wilbur's a lot better looking than Ben on any given day, and a lot nicer too!!

Can you see the smoldering eyes of an unhappy kitty cat??

A truce?

Maybe, maybe not!

When I say no, I mean no! Absolutely not! No way!

So what the hell is this thing doing in our apartment?

It looks suspiciously like a dog crate.

Chlorox wants to know what all these accessories are doing here. She doesn't need chew toys, she doesn't have any front claws so she surely doesn't want a peti-cure, and when was the last time she chewed on a Kong?

She thoroughly enjoyed my afternoon of sewing (she writhed all over the fabric) but has no idea why I felt the need to make a great big cushion from my stash of fleece. With a camo theme no less!

I think she'll find out tomorrow when Wilbur moves into his new forever home.

And yes folks, that means that when Hans and I make our move aboard The Knotty Cat this June, we're not only going to take along an elderly cat, we're going to be joined by a pit bull rescue puppy!

Life with us is never boring!

"We have a winner!" proclaims The Countess von Chlorox

I promised to post the winner of my 'tell a ghost story, win a purse contest' today, and I will, but first I must let you in on the whole choosing process.

I decided that since we have a spooky, other world theme going on that it was only fitting to take a slightly different approach at picking a winner.

So I beseeched The Countess von Chlorox to help me. You see, the lovely Countess von Chlorox knows all and sees all.

When she isn't reading tea leaves, she's gazing into crystal balls, and if you cross her paw with catnip she'll return the favor by reading your palm. She was just shuffling her tarot cards when I approached her. Lucky for me the cards had just informed her that there was indeed Gouda cheese in her future, so she was in good humor.

I couldn't help it, but I asked her if her crystal ball might tell her what happens to naughty cats who poop on the dining room floor, in full view of Hans, but she ignored me!

The Countess is moody about things like that.


The Countess sits quietly beside the bowl full of entries. I asked her to hurry up but she said she needed to 'feel the vibration' and that it's a pity that no one understands her craft.











Finally she tips the bowl over and out rolls a winner.
















The Countess is suspicious.
Is this really the winner?
Hmmmm.












Satisfied that there is no fakery afoot, The Countess relaxes and declares a winner.

















And it's BeeBee from Pastiche.

BeeBee, send me an email and we'll figure out what kind of purse you'd like.

I really want to thank everyone for participating in my contest.
It was great fun reading your stories and I hope to do this again.

The passing of a Diva

Late last night our Beast passed on.

Back in December of 2002 she arrived in our lives via one of my many jobs. It was a bitter cold day when the man in charge of our warehouse came into my office with the announcement of, "Look what I found!"

It was a half starved, wild eyed, calico cat. Jason had discovered it hiding in our warehouse and he said it looked like it had spent the night under our Dumpster. He could tell because we'd had a lot of snow and her little paw prints were everywhere.

I immediately ran home, stole food from my own two cats, and raced back to work to feed the new stray.

In her eagerness to get to the food the poor starved kitty knocked the bowl over. When we put a dish of water down beside her she assumed that it too, was food, and buried her head (to the neck) in it! That poor cat had only one thing on her mind from then on, and that was to never stop eating.

The owner of the company where I worked (a fellow cat lover) had the new kitty dewormed and deloused, and the vet said the cat was about a day away from death when she found us. I volunteered to take the kitty as a 16th birthday gift for my daughter (the future vet tech).

My worries about her being bullied by my other two cats were completely unfounded as she kicked the sh*t out of both of them upon being released from her cage and from there on in, the other cats bowed to her supremacy.

Because she was supreme.

She was The Beast!

As she ate, and grew (and grew) I came to realize that I'd never encountered anything quite like The Beast. I've been the owner of countless animals over the years but this one will forever stand out as the most human of the bunch.

Every morning when I got up and ready for work, The Beast would burst through the bathroom door and with a deep sigh, she would heave herself onto the floor and commence to groom herself for the day. And upon discovering that, because she was so obese, she couldn't reach her bottom while hoisting her hind leg off the floor to wash her behind, she would leave her leg up in the air and would instead, furiously scrub her front paws.

It's all in the attitude.

She did this every day.

She loved shoes and it was a bit disconcerting to find her with both of her front feet thrust into my shoes.

Way too many times.

One day I walked into my bedroom to find her wearing one of my blue jean skirts. Luckily for me, her waist (at that time), was bigger than mine or I'm half afraid she would have figured out how to fasten it.

Another time I caught her, elbow deep, rooting through my purse. Looking for my car keys? I'm not sure. But I shakily told my boss the next day that if I were to arrive at work, slightly heavier and hairier to please go across the street to my house and make sure I wasn't bound in duct tape!

Hans, who's only ever had one pet in his life, was pretty sure that The Beast was a reincarnation of his paternal grandmother. As a child, Hans' grandmother's family had been well off but World War I was their ruination. The family factory and money may have been gone but Grandma's pride remained for the rest of her years.

As a child, Grandma loved riding in cars.

So did The Beast.

Grandma loved to rule the roost.

So did The Beast.

Grandma was a large woman.

So was The Beast.

The Beast was a meeter and a greeter. While my shy cat Chlorox, can disappear at the hint of company, The Beast was there to greet everyone including my grand-dog Duncan the Pit Bull. Even Duncan quickly learned who was boss.

This past winter I started my move to the Big City and The Beast went to live with Vet Tech Girl who put her on a diet. The Beast lost about five pounds. Her dandruff disappeared and she became very active. However she has always been FIV positive, most likely having been born with this affliction and I wonder if this is what took her life at the very young age of around seven.








Here she is with her neck through the loop of a JoAnn's bag.

I didn't say she was smart.



























With her beads. She loved her beads and I dug them out this morning and left them at Vet Tech Girl's apartment. She may need them in her new life.

I hope so.

The Beast

2001-2009

She was truly loved.

A Memorial Day Worth Remembering

Hans remarked to me that I haven't posted on my blog lately. I realize that I haven't and in some ways I have a lot to say and in some ways I don't! I'm certainly still sewing, but a lot of it is repetitious and not really of interest to anybody.

But we did go back to my little swamp town for a picnic at my parent's today as my sister and her husband and their daughter came from out of town (four hours, compared to our one and a half) and since we missed a couple of these get togethers last year I didn't want to miss this year.

Today was nice, I didn't have to leave early to get to a waitressing job so I could just relax and enjoy myself. A couple, who are really good friends of my parent's, was there (my dad, and the husband half of that couple, when combined, become the male equivalent of Lucy and Ethel! I kid you not), and it became every man for himself in the conversation department.

My brother in law loves auctions, and auctions that involve guns are even better because if there is anything that Lucy and Ethel (Dad and Friend) love; that would be auctions and guns.

My sister is into genealogy like nobody's business and was late for the picnic because she'd been to the local Hysterical (family humor) Society digging up more family history.

And she never comes back empty handed.

So while Sister read excerpts from articles she'd made copies of at the Hysterical Society, my mother espoused her views on the Apocalypse (her favorite subject), and Baby Girl relayed news about her latest sports related broken bones, my dad remarked that he was pretty sure that the Amish had probably sold a lot of homemade pies at the auction he, Ethel, and Brother In Law had attended.

I should have been suspicious of his comment, but right about then I started rooting through the refrigerator for one of the beers that Hans and I brought with us.

We ate (and ate) and I told everyone that I'd discovered that Vet Tech Girl (who was working and couldn't come to the picnic) has at least two rabbits. Remember, she lives below us in our duplex, and one day Hans spotted these precious creatures getting an airing on her small back deck. When I asked her about it, she was very nonchalant about the whole thing and announced that their names were Arthur and Mabel.

My dad then commented that he was positive that there hadn't been one Amish pie left over at the auction.

I eyed him suspiciously and went on with my story. Oh yes I told them, in addition to the two rabbits, there are at least four cats, and Duncan the Pit-Bull in Vet Tech Girl's apartment.

That's when Baby Girl piped up and said that a rumour was floating about involving Vet Tech Girl and a Hedge Hog.

I nearly choked but before I could reply, my dad said to no one in particular that he wouldn't be surprised if people were complaining because the Amish had run out of pies too early on at the auction.

I knew something was up because my dad is a man of few words and he was dwelling on this Amish pie thing for far too long. But before I could nail him on it, my mother stated that she hoped that Vet Tech Girl wasn't going to turn into one of those weird animal people which is like the pot calling the kettle black as my mother (for a hefty yearly fee) has a blood supply kept on sight for her hemophiliac doberman at the vet clinic (a clinic that I'm sure she's single handedly paid for by the way!) and she hoped for God's sake that those damned rabbits were fixed.

I told her not to worry and that just about every creature that goes into Vet Tech Girl's apartment comes out fixed. Everyone laughed and when my mother told Hans that he'd better be careful, he didn't get it, because he'd tuned my family out as soon as we got there and was working on a five star Soduko (I've told you he's smart) and absently replied "Oh, she doesn't let any one in her apartment."

Anyway I told everyone that Vet Tech Girl had once confided to me that neutering males is really very easy and it had occurred to her that with the proper instruments she could easily undertake this procedure in her apartment.
I instantly envisioned black out curtains at her windows and quiet midnight knocks at her door. After a quick exchange of money a hapless male would be lead to her newspaper covered kitchen table and before you knew it....

Thank God she was smart enough to know that this could get her into a bit of trouble and as far as I know, the neighborhood Toms are still safe.

Everyone laughed and my dad said that boy oh boy those Amish pies at the auction had sold like hot cakes.

I'm sure Dad was thrilled when Mom, who never listens to him anyway, and was ready to launch into a story about how the Chinese are going to knock the world off of its axis if they continue to build that damned wall, stopped short and suspiciously asked, "What pies?" Because even contemplating a pie made by anyone other than her (she is a fabulous baker) is tantamount to cheating.

"The pies at the sale", my dad announced very innocently. But I saw the same gleam in his eye that he had when he played board games with me and my sister when we were little and he cheated.

"You didn't buy some God Damned pie at that stupid auction, did you?" My mother asked. Buying a gun was one thing but buying a pie made by another woman was dangerous ground indeed.

"They were store bought weren't they?" I shouted triumphantly and I felt very smug because I knew I was right. Years ago a friend of mine had tried to impress some out of town company by taking them to Amish country for a very expensive, home made Amish meal and she'd been angry and embarrassed to discover that they had served grocery store pies. She knew this because this particular group of Amish were stupid enough to leave the plastic pie containers from the store right out in the open.

Dad took off his glasses and wiped his eyes, a sure fire sign that he was having a blast."I didn't buy any pies," he answered all innocent like. "Why would I do that?"

We all waited for him to continue.

Good old Lucy asked Ethel and my brother in law, "Did you two need to use the bathroom at the auction today?"

Both shook their heads no.

"I did." he announced with glee.

Now he had a captive audience.

"You know they still use outhouses don't you?" He stated the obvious because the Amish don't have flushing toilets as they don't use electric (except for their sheds which do have electric so they can use cell phones but don't get me started on that right now).

"Well, the outhouse at the auction was a big cement block building and there's a shelf that's created where the roof meets the blocks." At this point Dad's body was shaking with laughter. "I couldn't help but notice that the whole shelf around the entire building was lined with pies that the Amish ladies had left to cool."

We just stared.

"Inside the outhouse!" Dad shouted with laughter. "They put their pies inside the outhouse to cool!" Dad has the strangest sense of humor and he was almost in tears.

"You should have seen the flies!" He was laughing so hard he was almost lying across the kitchen table.

"You're kidding!" I was horrified, but I couldn't help laughing.

"No I'm not kidding, there were flies everywhere, and after I spent the day telling everyone they just had to buy one of those wonderful Amish pies, I know everyone of them got sold!"

"That's disgusting!" my mother said as she pushed Smoky (their transgender cat) who'd been napping, off of the kitchen table.

"It's true!" Dad gasped. "You should have seen people scrambling to buy them!"

My sister was still at her computer where she was busily tapping away and adding her latest finds from the Society. "Did you know," she asked my mother (and I have to assume she missed the whole outhouse commentary), "that I found your dad's (our grandfather's) wedding announcement in the Jamestown, New York papers, and it was made by the bride to be's grandmother and not her own parents?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" my mother exclaimed, "I'm not surprised! My mother's mother was a piece of work! My parents never should have gotten married and the fact that they did it on April Fool's Day was certainly an omen! Grandma (grandpa's mother) was furious at the announcement and she hated my mother's mother because she used to stick her tongue out at Grandma when they were little girls. It's no wonder we're all so screwed up. I remember the time..."

And so it goes.

Here is Smoky the transgender cat along with Kissy Pooh the cowardly doberman. Both are enjoying an afternoon nap in the sunporch.

The Easter Beagle, The Easter Bunny, A Trans-Gender Cat,

A Cowardly Doberman, and a Pathetic Pit Bull. These are just a few of the characters with whom I spent my Easter Sunday.

Also included were Hans, all of my kids, my parents, and some of my parent's friends.

The Easter Beagle was very generous and brought a basket for my parent's cowardly Doberman.

She's a love bug!

This year's offering was an ostrich and it squeaks in a delightful way when Kissie Pooh chews it. This dog has her own toy box and it's filled with stuffed toys and bones.

This is just a better picture of the poor unsuspecting ostrich that will soon be chewed to pieces.

Kissie Pooh also received a squeaky parrot (from my parent's friends) and a stuffed goose (I loved the way it honked and I spent far too much time squeezing it).

Smokey the Cat, who ,thanks to a chronic urinary blockage, recently had surgery thus changing him from boy to girl, is now a Trans-Gender cat (at the tune of something over a thousand dollars!!), checks out the Easter Beagle's gift.

And yes, he/she's on the kitchen table (but since my parents just spent big bucks on said cat, are you really surprised?).

And this poor little guy was relegated to the porch. My little grand dog Duncan has a bit of a reputation.

In other words, he has no manners.

I took this picture (without the flash) through the storm door and I felt just awful.

He sat outside and whined for about 2 hours.

In addition to celebrating my son's 26th birthday it was also Kissie Pooh the dobermans' 4th birthday.

Both received cakes made by my mother.

My son's cake was not in the shape of a bone!

Ever since I can remember our pets have received and opened their own presents and Kissie Pooh is no exception.

Here is a short video of Kissie Pooh opening up just one of her gifts.

If I've said it once I've said it a thousand times; in my next life I want to come back as one of my family's pets!!!!

Happy Holidays and I hope I'm done!

Here is the bottom of the Day Bag that I made for Vet Tech Girl's Christmas Present.

Purse Feet!















This inside lining and zipper pocket.


I love the Paw Print and I hope she does too.











I like having a zipper closure for more security and I was amazed at how close of a match I got colorwise with the zipper and the fabric.






I added grommets along the bottom edge of the flap because I thought it seemed a little blah.

And here's Sally Stitch modeling both the purse and the cute shirt that I found at Fashion Bug. I didn't realize at the time that the shirt actually matches the purse.

On Saturday I finished up my year at the Inn and I took today as a vacation day from my regular job as I didn't have any Christmas shopping done. I got home around 4:30 PM and just finished wrapping !

Tomorrow The Beast will go to work with me for Christmas Eve. She's done this for years and since she doesn't want to be grubby I need to get a move on and brush her right now. I use a cat brush and my sweeper and she loves it.

I kid you not, she loves my sweeper!

We call it her 'Day of Beauty'.

For those of you who celebrate the Holidays I wish all of you well!

What's up so far this week

This is what I should be working on.

A second apron to go with my first.



But since I have some time left to get this done, I started another project.








See the paw prints?

What is it and who could this be for?


If you guessed a purse for Vet Tech Girl then you're right.







Here is the paw print with some matching corduroy, zippers, and thread.

Since I made a Messenger Bag for Baby Girl I decided I should make a purse for Vet Tech Girl.

This is going to be a version of the Day Bag with a zipper, and flap closure.

I just bought the fabric tonight and it's already been washed, dried, cut out, and partially sewn.




On Sunday I got to see my Granddog Duncan.
I hate to admit that Duncan might not be the brightest bulb in the box.
I took him for a run and what a nut! Besides the fact that he wore me out, it turns out that he's afraid of almost everything including: seagulls, and Muzak.
When we weren't busy sniffing light posts and shrubs we were running like the very devil was after us everytime he heard the slightest noise. I walked him on a trail near some restaurants and everytime we went past one with music being piped outside, he was horribly confused and once again we'd be off and running.





This is from Thanksgiving but I'm betting that he looked a lot like this yesterday after his big run.

I know just how he feels.

The Cat Who...

...Ate Gouda.

Has anyone ever read Lillian Jackson Braun's books, 'The Cat Who...'?

For years, every time one was published I bought the hardback version.

That says a lot as I'm very frugal (read cheap).
But since I'll be moving to a small apartment soon, I ended up getting rid of tons of books including my Cat Who books and believe me it was NOT easy.

But I realized that most of them weren't books I'd ever read again and even if I wanted to, that's what libraries are for.

So even if I don't have the books, I have the cats, and this one dearly loves her Gouda.

Every night, Chlorox stands on her hind legs and taps on my leg begging for her share of cheese.

How can I ever say no?

How do you spell stupid?

B-E-A-S-T

We all know about the dangers of plastic bags, right?

Well, I don't have little kids (or big kids for that matter) in my house anymore so baby proofing my home hasn't been a top priority in my life these days.

Until now that is.

I spent a good deal of time in my sewing room this weekend, as did my cats. Honestly, no matter what room I'm in, I'm guaranteed to trip over or sit on a cat at any given time.

Here is The Beast lying on my 'garbage bag'. Except, for reasons only known to her, she's decided to stick her head through one of the handles.

A close up.

And finally the nap.



You're to ignore the unswept floor.





I fully expected to witness a panic attack when it was time to wake up and make a dash for the food dish.



No such luck. With perfect grace, she slid out of her harness and elegantly exited the room.



God knows what must go on when I'm not home.

Time flies and it's just so much fun! Not!

I worked quite a bit on Baby Girl's curtains this weekend but I don't have pictures because Baby Girl has borrowed my camera for a school project.

It's for her Communication's Art class, and I'd like to know when classes like Communication Art, came into being?

One of her brilliant projects was to, 'make something out of stuff'.

I kid you not.

And she's to draw 5 pictures, and the professor would like at least 4 hours to be spent on each one.

Really.

But the camera is to be used for an assignment wherein Baby Girl is to 'manipulate nature in an artistic way' and photograph it'.

I could have helped her with that one.

I would love to have a picture of the noisy bunch of red squirrels, that chose Saturday morning to have a turf war in the tree right outside my bedroom window, all tied together by their nasty little tails.

That would be manipulating nature at it's best!

Baby Girl hates this class and finds it to be a total waste of time.

But I think the real reason Baby Girl hates it, is the fact that, said Professor is over forty, pregnant, and doesn't shave her armpits!

Or as Baby Girl says, "Hans, you have nothing on her!"

I had to work at the inn last night, and tonight, therefor no sewing.

Last night's excitement involved Vet Tech Girl phoning me at around eleven PM and all I could hear through her hysteria was something about rushing to the hospital.

Only after my heart was in my throat did I realize that she was talking about her baby pitt bull, Duncan.

Apparently when Vet Tech Girl got home from work she discovered that one of Duncan's eyes was dilated.

Heavens to Betsy.

After a wild ride (that I'm sure Duncan thoroughly enjoyed) to the emergency clinic that Vet Tech Girl had just arrived home from, and an examination (that I'm sure Duncan thoroughly enjoyed), no one was any the wiser as to why Duncan's eye was dilated.

He now has an appointment with a doggy neurologist.

I kid you not.

I hope this girl never has children.

I don't have to work tomorrow night and I look forward to an evening of uninterrupted sewing (that is if Duncan doesn't get a fart stuck crosswise!), and if I can wrestle my camera away from Baby Girl I just might have some updated pictures!

Do you think he hears what I'm saying about him?

Oh No!!!! It's ALIEN DOG!!!

Well, he'd be called Alien Dog if 'The Examiner' (Bat Boy lives in the White House, Bat Boy spotted at Disney World...) was to get a hold of these pictures.

These are just a few, of the approximately 1,000 pictures, I've taken of the Vet Tech Girl's new puppy, Duncan.

Oh my, I can't even imagine how nauseating I will be if I ever become a real grandmother.

Actually, I would be completely happy if my kids opted for pets as opposed to kids.

A lot less worry!

Here is Grandpa Hans with Duncan.

Duncan loves Grandma Laura, black roots and all!

Lots and lots of Duncan kisses.

Finally, Duncan and Grandma Laura are both worn out.

Hans and I went for a huge bike ride today, and when we got home we invited Vet Tech Girl up for a visit, with the stipulation that Duncan be included.

He was wound tighter than an 8 day clock!

Finally, after 'sitting, speaking, shaking hands and having little piddle accidents, Duncan started to calm down. Vet Tech Girl works with him constantly to ensure that he has a proper upbringing. Every time he eats, she takes his food bowl away from him, gives it back, and then takes it away again. This is to make sure that he doesn't become possessive and therefor aggressive with his food, as it stands; he doesn't react at all, he just looks around as though nothing has happened. Hans dropped a carton of eggs on the floor by mistake, so they were put into a bowl (eggshells and all) and given to Duncan, who proceeded to chew and scatter egg shells all over Hans' deck. We grilled steaks and Duncan got the left overs.

His diet consists of portions of raw meat, raw bones, and doggy supplements.

I kid you not!!! Vet Tech Girl has done all the research, I promise.

She takes him on 'play dates' to a friend's home, who has a female pit bull, and even though Duncan's the one with the heart murmur, he wears that poor dog out.

At one point, in his extreme excitement, he whipped around and nipped me with his sharp puppy teeth. Vet Tech Girl girl immediately went into mommy mode and astonished me by saying in a rapid fire way, "Don't let him do that! Every time he does that you grab him by his lip," and roughly demonstrating on herself, she harshly pinched her own lip, "and yank it down!"

Dear God, I hope that girl never has real children of her own as someone would surely turn her into Family Services!