How did I do in April?

1. Continue to work on the Tree of Life UFO--I completed the cross-stitches on the top section of this chart. I've worked down one side to the point where the cross-stitches start again (the rest being long stitches and backstitches).
2. Work on the marquoir--I finished section three!
3. Finish the Tall Flowers sampler--I'm about halfway on the leaves. And did I really save all the backstitching until the end?
4. Continue the Apple Sampler--I worked on this one only night--not enough for a photo.
5. Start AMP's and/or SSW's birth sampler--I only managed to cut out the fabric.

Maryland Sheep and Wool

best pal and I are talking about meeting at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival next weekend. The thing is, it's a 2+ hour drive for me (but really, what better place to meet a friend than in West Friendship, Maryland?). So I was kind of hoping that brave astronaut was going to come, so the dude would come and I wouldn't have to spend four hours in the car by myself. So I broached the subject with the dude last night.

Me: So, next weekend, I'm thinking about going to Maryland to meet best pal at the Sheep and Wool Festival. Would you want to come?
Dude: What's there?
Me: Um, sheep...and...wool.
Dude: I don't think there's anything to interest me.
Me: [grasping at straws] And a sheepdog herding contest.
Dude: Now that I'm interested in [no hint of sarcasm].
Me: You are?
Dude: When I was a kid I used to watch this show on Saturday mornings, I think it was called "One Man and his Dog," and this guy would whistle and his dogs would round up the sheep. [Begins whistling.]
Me [thinking: Wow, you had a deprived Saturday morning]: You watched that?
Dude: Every child of my generation in Britain watched that show. I loved it.

So, brave astronaut, you in? Sheepdog herding. Now that I've studied the schedule, I see cheese. That's my final offer. Cheese.

The War of the Dent-de-Lion

Taraxacum officinale is plaguing my lawn...the one I have vowed to care for this year. (Last year we focused on the inside of the house.) Last night, I took out about four (4) pounds of dandelion and dirt out of the lawn. This morning, on my way to work, I counted at least twenty more. They think they can break me.

The dude thinks this endeavor will drive me insane. And so, to be funny, I say crazy things about the dandelions. "Dude, I hear the dandelions growing out there. Shhhh! Can't you hear it?" The scary thing is if they drive me completely insane, how will he tell? I'll tell you one thing for sure, the neighbors are going to be sick of driving by the house and seeing my fat ass in the air while I dig out the weeds.

This morning we--the dude, the two older women at the busstop, and I--were discussing dandelions. The topic of consuming dandelions came up. It started me thinking. Maybe I can derive my power from them. If I start eating the leaves (our lawn was fertilized with corn gluten meal, a natural preemergent, which is nontoxic), will I prevail? Should I be making wine from the flowers? Do I know how to make wine from dandelion flowers? You got that right.

Anyway, too much dirt under the nails for stitching.

D'oh!

1-over-two. I should never post after a day out in the sun!

Milestone

I haven't finished section three (though I am pretty close!). The milestone I have reached is that I have used two complete skeins of DMC 310 on this project. I am stitching it 1-over-1 on 40-count fabric.

More Bus Talking

The other night on the bus, I was working on Tall Flowers. This sniffly little boy got on, and sat right near me. I thought I was going to hate him, but he charmed me utterly.

The boy, Rich: What are you sewing?
Me: It's called a sampler that's because it has letters on it.
Rich: My grammy sews.
Grammy: It's needlepoint.
Rich: Right now, she's sewing a pillow that says, "Quiet, baby sleeping."
Me: Is there a new baby in your family?
Rich: It's my sort of cousin.
Me: Sort of?
Rich: It's my stepdad's sister.
Grammy: Step-grandfather's daughter.
Me: Your sort-of cousin. [But really, people, isn't everyone a cousin--who keeps track of the removes and the half and the steps. So much trouble, cousin!]
Rich: What's your name?
Me: Me. What's your name?
Rich: Rich.
Me: Do you know what my father's name is?
Rich: No.
Me: Rich.
Rich: Do you know what my great-grandfather's name is?
Me: No.
Rich: Rich. Do you know what my grandfather's name is?
Me: Rich?
Rich: Yup. Where do you live?
Me: Havertown.
Rich: I live in Havertown too. Where do you live?
Me: I live near the [shopping center].
Rich: I don't know where that is.
Grammy: Is that where the [grocery store] is?
Me: Yes.
Grammy to Rich: It's where the [grocery store] is.
Rich: That's good, then you can walk to get your groceries.
Me: That's right.
Rich: How do you know where to stitch?
Me: [explains difference between painted needlepoint and counted cross stitch. explains about starting in the center.]
Rich: Which letter did you start with?
Me: [figures out center of pattern]: The letter C.
Rich: Are you almost done?
Me: [shows pattern] What do I have left to stitch?
Rich: [Begins pointing to all the empty boxes at the bottom] here, here, here.
Me: What else besides the boxes?
Rich: [investigates pattern closely] [and with help from grammy] The leaves!
Grammy pulls the rope to get off.
Rich: [from the exit well] Do you have a driver's license?
Me: Yes.
Rich: Do you have a car?
Me: Yes.
Rich: Well, then, you're all set! [Rich jumps from the bus]
Man sitting next to grammy: That little boy knows you better than anyone else on earth!
Woman sitting across the aisle from me: We're all coming over to your house now.

Marquoir Update

I can't believe I haven't updated my progress on this piece since January! I haven't worked on it as much as I'd like, but I have worked on it. Part 8 was recently released, and I'm still on Part 3. The Z marks the end of this section, so you can see I have a ways to go on it. Still, it's not a race...

The dude is out of town, however, which means I can eat Lean Cuisines for dinner, put on my crap movies, and stitch. Although someone should clean the floor and do some laundry. And that toe-molding that was recently installed isn't going to paint itself. My money's on the marquoir.

Stay Sweet!

My sister and cousin are pigs. I'm not telling tales out of school, they'll tell you themselves how dirty they are. And then, if you're really lucky, they will prove it to you. So when I sent them a link to Locher's directing them to this shirt, I wasn't that surprised when my cousin bought not one but two shirts there. (Oh, she forgot to show them to us last night. Boo!) I had thought Sissy and I could pitch in for a shirt for her birthday which was Friday, April 13. Once she had filled her shopping cart with dirty embroidery, I thought I might make her Amy Butler's cafe apron. Then I realized I was a week away and I there was no way I could order the pattern then take on a project like that at the last minute.

Instead, I walked over to Tips Uniforms last week, found an apron I really liked, and spent some quality time on Sunday embroidering that something special on it for her. She loved it!

Note the new fridge in the background--so tall, so white, so dent-free.

So empty!

Home Alone

The guest is gone. Thank god. Is it just me who thinks a 12-day visit is seven days too many? When I was growing up, we never had people stay at our house longer than one night. One night is a slumber party. Even four nights is a long weekend. Anything over seven and you should get a hotel room. Because if you can't afford seven nights in a hotel, you can't afford to travel. It's a known fact that is the very reason people invented camping.

So is this an English thing? Going to people's houses for forever? Am I having trouble bridging the cultural gap? I need a little help here.

Having people in the house makes me cranky. I just need more space and fresh air. And I so do not need the kind of conversations that make me nearly post rants on my blog. (I wrote one last night, but had to go to beer class before I could edit.) Instead I called the best pal and let her hear it. (Thank you!) Of course, I was also a little perturbed because the dude brought his friend to the airport at 5:30 and was still there at 7:00. When did beer class start? 7:00. His excuse is that he hasn't seen the guy in five years except for the twelve days they just spent together. Maybe I'm just not cut out for having relationships with other people. Sometimes even the dude annoys the crap out of me. And he is so inoffensive.

How ugly will this blog get when my fil and his girlfriend come to stay? Stay tuned!

"Individuality is the New Black"

Friends, I've been holding out on you. I have found my inspiration fabric for the craft room. It has arrived. And I love it.

Black and White Kleo by Alexander Henry. This is what Hancocks of Paducah says about the fabric: "Alexander Henry Fabrics. Fashionista Collection. For the kind of girl who likes burgers and Bergdorfs. Motorcycles & Manolos. Grab some of these fashion patterns and do your own thing. Remember, INDIVIDUALITY is the new black." That could really put a person off--and I've written catalog copy in my lifetime.

The dude promises that the craft room will be completed this summer. I'm not sure he realizes how much of the next few weekends we will spend tearing out 50 year-old yews and conditioning soil... Nevertheless, you will get a full pictorial to follow along with our progress.

Back at It!

I've finished the flowers on the Tall Sampler! I'm back to stitching--I've stolen some time while the dude takes the guest out. I've started the leaves and rhodes stitches (in the green boxes) even. I feel like I'm back in the swing. Wheeeeeee!

SBQ: Compelling Blogs

How do you decide which stitching blogs are worth regular viewings? Are there certain things you look for in particular? Are there things you wish there were more of? Less of? Is your blog a good example of what you like to read? Right now, the blogs come to me. I am using the google reader. I try to visit the blogs that link to me, which I think is polite. I most enjoy reading blogs that have regular, and mostly, crafting content. I'll stop reading a blog that regularly says things that annoy me or that uses "would of" when they mean would've...okay, any blog that says "would of" is straight out because that is never a grammatically correct usage. I cringe every time I see writers spell definitely, "definately." That sort of stuff will drive me right away. I get inspired by people who are out there doing their own kind of thing, and I wish I did more of that. But I work. Oh, I know, being out of the house for ten hours a day is a really lousy excuse...

Is my blog a good example of the genre? Not lately. I feel so disconnected. I'm not stitching as much as I'd like, and crazy things keep happening, like the beer tasting dinner I went to last night, and having to go buy a new refrigerator. I do think I'm coming back around though. Today at work--shouldn't they have let us go early?--I retaliated by surfing Hancock's of Paducah and I found things I want to make. That's always a good sign.

Contest!

I've got ideas. Oh, I've got ideas.

Nostalgic

I want to thank everyone for sharing their stories about how their childhood ambitions took them down the road they're now on. The reason I asked is that I am taking an online scrapping class with Shimelle Laine. Rosemary, who is a guest artist for this class, always had such cool books that she had made after a class with Shimelle, I thought I should try it. This class is called "When I Grow Up," and we're doing a book about what we wanted to be when we grew up. And I wanted to be all sorts of things: a princess (my real parents were going to rescue me--although I had a very nice home life), a baseball player (MLB), art teacher, pilot, doctor, mother (of eight, which now I think is fucking insane, but I also planned to marry rich which I didn't manage), marine biologist, international economist (in Russia!), geologist, literary agent, lawyer, book editor, and English professor. Now I'm a writer, although I did get pretty far on the last three. Anyway, hearing what others had to say was supposed to jar some memories. And it did--in another forum someone mentioned wanting to be Miss America. I used to imagine the speech I would give when I won--usually an Oscar, but also the Miss America crown...And now, I write speeches as part of my job, but not for anything very glamorous.

It's funny because really these projects just start with writing prompts. And, hell, I was a writing teacher for 8 years, I know my way around a writing prompt. But I never make prompts for scrapbooks. Instead I look at the pile of pictures I have to scrap, quiver a bit, and walk past them without picking them up. (Please, let's not even mention the book I started for best pal and haven't finished because I'm confused about dates.) What's a little funnier is that I don't even have photos for this book, so it's really going to be a journal. But in the end, I'll be one step closer to having pictures in albums--psychologically if not in any sense of the word "really."

How do you get here?

When I was a kid, I had this book for recording my school memories. I think it was called "School Memories;" clever, huh? It had space to record your teacher's name and your school friends, your favorite subject and what you wanted to be when you grew up. Because it was the 70s, there were professions for girls and boys. The boys' choices included things like policeman, fireman, doctor, and baseball player. The girls' had teacher, mother, and nurse. Even then (kindergarten) I didn't like these gender divisions: I chose teacher (specifying art teacher) and baseball player. And I really believed I could grow up to play baseball.

Sure, Title IX was in the air (and we know how far that got us), and feminism was part of the zeitgeist (and then there's Maude!). But it wasn't like all the little girls were lining up to play Little League. (They couldn't until 1974, but it was a trickle down effect rather than a floodgate.) Later, I was a cheerleader because playing football was out of the question.

I'm not, you may have gathered, a baseball player (I'm not even an art teacher). But all that thinking about boys and girls did get me somewhere--one of my degrees is in gender studies. Isn't it funny how these things work out? What about you? Can you trace who you are back to what you were? (I have another one, the one where my mother tells me to go outside and play instead of reading all the time that leads to the PhD in English literature...but you should go next.)

Out of the Frying Pan

and into the garbage pail!

The refrigerator went while I was at work. So I wasted two hours last night cooking. Now I have to face the odor that is my kitchen to clean out the fridge. And go somewhere else to get food. Sigh.

Freeze, Mutha******

The dude and the childhood friend are off to DC, and I was looking forward to a relaxing evening with the marquoir. Instead, the freezer broke, and I am up to my elbows madly cooking food to save it from the garbage. Tonight I cooked up crab cakes, Cantonese fish and vegetable soup (Moosewood Restaurant Cooks at Home), poached salmon, and a spanakopita. I've made a shopping list so that tomorrow night I can make chili, black bean and sausage stew, Sicilian seafood stew (the same Moosewood), Thai scallops (Trader Joe's lime and ginger sauce), and steam the leftover shrimp. Of course, now I have all this food and no one home to eat it. At least it will last until they get home. I should call Sissy to see if she can put some of this newly cooked chow in her freezer. (But you know, only the fish because she won't eat that.)

And then I have to figure out what to do about the refrigerator--that purports to have been manufactured in 2002. And a Kenmore!