Just Random Stuff

Two bank loans have been secured, the dishwasher repairman cometh the first week of October, and it's raining like nobody's business outside. Tomorrow is our 'official' celebration of somebody's thirty-tenth birthday, so there's dinner and a movie to be had, and I just grafted the toe of 'ugly sock', the first. Tried it on the man's foot. Perfect fit. He's well-medicated for his cold/flu now, and awaiting the sleep of the drugged, courtesy of Alka-Selter nighttime formula. It's been a helluva busy day for this Queen of All She Surveys, but I need to leave a note here for the sleepless LeAnn... I will call you enroute to Mitchell's dental appt. in the morning. I was on the phone with bank people when you tried calling, and with the sweater class and WW today, I got Very Far Behind. Too much crap for one day, and it's time to end it. I'm sure I'll forget something in tomorrow's chaos, like Melly's tiara, or my wallet, or where I'm supposed to be at some crucial minute of the day, but for tonight, there is just sweet, blissful sleep. Once the kids decide to stop fighting over the DS game and Eli migrates back downstairs.

p.s. Down 11.6 lbs since starting this whole weight-loss regime. Doesn't seem like much, but it's more progress than I'd have made otherwise. I don't even resent the time spent at the meetings anymore. I have my knitting, a front row seat, and Miss No-Kim to torment. Could not be better. Latah, knittahs. C

Only it's red...

Stock photo of 'Da Baby', because I can't get the one out of my phone. (Arrrgh!) I also can't get this into the previous post, though the toddler is now freshly diapered and asleep. Wonders never cease.

Oh, my!

This is not a picture of a wildly cute blogger with a knot of a super short cherry stem, that she honest-to-goodness tied with her tongue and nothing else... except it is, and she did. That Crocker Woman has some mad skilz. But I promised I wouldn't tell, so, shhhh.

In other news, I got to "test drive" Da Baby today. Stupid grin still plastered on my face. Car-loan shopping to commence tomorrow. Bank of Boris as last resort, 'cuz I'm kind of into him for the whole "hey, I want a yarn and fabric shop" thing. But that little lovey of a car is mine... I'll take the dangle!

Need to abbreviate the blog; tired toddler requires immediate attention. Will type at y'all later. *smooches* C

Asses of Roses

Sorry, the pun escaped me before I could help myself. These pretties came home with me from the grocery yseterday. Deep red and coral pink, and of course I had to mix the two together in an armload of color.

It reminds me of lipstick. There may be a lipstick-y pinks/reds quilt coming back into play. I'd started it last year *sigh* and looking at the color-play of these roses, I'm suddenly craving the quilt... (or possibly the little red Audi TT Roadster that's being dangled at me by Herr Becher.)

Red is so fabulous... in just about everything.

Found

With the return of my ability to swallow solid foods, however over-masticated they may have to be, so has my appetite reared up in angry defiance of the liquid diet. The first food on my wish-list wasn't steak, or fried chicken, or even chocolate cake. It was a simple piece of buttered toast with jam. Behold the perfection of AGA toast, in all it's jammy glory...

One of my big surprises today was the discovery of the missing pendant. I was getting into the Jeep to run and grab some lunch (the hunger thing again), and though I am loathe to leave the shop unattended, today it just could not be helped. As I climbed into the car... there it was, resting comfortably in the crack of the seat (not unlike whore-panties). I didn't take time to see if the chain was around there, too, but I'm just thrilled to have my pretty trinket back. It was one of the happy souvenirs of the overwhelmingly sad Easter '08 trip.

I have to head home now, via the grocery. Sick spouse to attend to. Knit on, crafty mommas. C

Frau Becher takes a bow

Wow. What an amazing response to the dyeing! I wish I could have captured the incredulous look on Melly's face when I said "see what I made" and held the skeins out to her for her approval. She totally thought I was b.s.ing her. That was priceless. As was mailing my own handpainted yarn out to both coasts today. Very thrilling. I am possibly drunk on power. Certainly I am not drunk on pain meds. (The Percocet did not make 'Heros' any bit more bearable, either. The writers really made a mess of that show. Probably some should have stayed on strike?)
I am now eating solid foods in tiny, mouse-sized bites. This is not only tiring, but boring, as well. My preferred method was just to unhinge my jaw and have at the plate, snake-style. This new, raw skin in my throat and it's constant need to be catered to, the untoward demands for my attention, and the prissy way I have to chew everything so damn much... well, I shall be a very happy girl when the healing process is complete. Me and my over-developed jaw muscles. C

Skeins of Happiness

Last night I was unable to get to the computer in time to post, so I saved up my happy until it was mostly all dried, and took a few snaps for y'all. The above basket contains several representative skeins of the worsted weight, merino superwash that, along with a big boost of help from Monday Mandi, I was able to get dyed up last night. They don't have "official names" yet, but here's some of what's new at the shop.

These are my special favorite, done in both the worsted and a fingering weight merino. I'm calling it "Witch's Britches"... don't ask why, but it struck me funny, and one doesn't argue with medicated genius. Here, look closer... isn't it gorgeous?

That is how I 'rest'. The throat pain was so omnipresent, I threw myself into dyeing, for the sake of distraction. I may need to go thank that doc for my days of misery. Tortured artist, indeed. C

The Painter in Me

Here hangs the skein that "got away". The skein deemed too ugly for public consumption, too "first attempt" (all by me, 'cuz I know all about everything). I guess you might say I'm having second thoughts, now that it's morphing into a sock for Herr Becher.

Just another gratuitous leg/cuff shot. Can you believe my medicated self got this far since yesterday? I know. The movie last night sucked (Magnolia), so I just kept my head down and kept on knitting. And today was not so bad... the knitting class got on okay, my voice visited me for about four hours, and I have this bangin' sock yarn to knit up... woo-hoo!
Okay, I have to go. The man says "Heros" is coming on in a minute. Must go see how they destroyed my show. (Like how I just assume it's ruined? I'm not jaded or bitter.)

Delay and Discomfort (the Me-Me post)

I have apparently reached my threshold with the current pain medication. I never thought I'd see the day that a little bit of Percocet couldn't fix the old girl up. Now I live in a place where my entire body can be numb on the stuff, but the throat pain lives on, like "Alien" or the refrain from a Disney song (pick any... they are all equally annoying at this point). Upping my dosage has taken the edge off, but it's short-lived, and I really need to watch myself so I don't pull a Heath Ledger. I've stopped my daily panic-attack meds, figuring there's no need for Xanax if I pass out every time I stop moving. Last night it was in front of the bookcase in the back hall, then I found myself on the sofa at five-thirty this morning, holding my knitting. I'd gotten up at ten to four, to get a drink and "more medication, please" and feel asleep waiting for it to work. That plan totally backfired, btw, as it was throat pain that woke me again. Gah. I've got a plan to sleep most of today, but swallowing is getting to be a terrific chore, so my waking hours will be spent wrapped around a Gatorade bottle. Tomorrow's sweater class will certainly be worth the cost of admission. I guess I'd better get busy on the 'instructions' for the class, since the voice won't hold up to the rigors of chatting through an entire session of knitting. Feeling nappish as well... gotta grab those while they're fresh! I'll type at y'all latah. C

Fiber therapy

Friends don't let friends dye drunk on their pain meds. These were a slight diversion in the haze of my day. As a first-time dyer with Wilton paste colors, I can assure you there are things I will do differently next time; soak the wool in vinegar longer, pre-dye the wool the lightest shade before painting on the deeper accent colors, and possibly, avoid making yarn that looks like pink and chocolate dalmations. Skein #3 is not for public display... Herr Becher has already claimed it for socks.

Oh, it seems it's time for my jello and medications. Still sore, whiny, and the whole "not talking" thing may kill me, but today was ever so slightly better than yesterday. Perhaps tomorrow I can ditch the ice-collar entirely. Miss you all. Commence mocking the yarn at will... it totally deserves it.

The Rough Stuff

You know how the first day after a 'procedure', you still have the anesthesia on your side? You feel comfortably numb, the pain meds seem to do an okay job of making you not want to cry, and if you should find yourself unable to sleep more than forty minutes at a whack, well, cleaning the kitchen at five a.m. isn't all that terribly unproductive. Then it all happens the second night, and you're exhausted, the super-duper pain elixirs are useless, you can't swallow water, much less pudding or jello, and you just melt into a puddle, wondering where that terrific, "I can't believe I just had surgery yesterday" woman went... because you'd like to strangle her and tell her to get her butt in bed. Oh, I made it to the sofa today, wrapped in blankets, wool socks on my feet, heating pad on top of that. I must have fallen asleep ten times, but can't seem to stay that way. It may be the needing to swallow that is messing me up. I have Prednisone to help with the swelling, but I'm scared to take it, mostly because you need to take it with food, and I can't keep any down. I'm pretty sure the tepid broth I just sipped will revisit me later. Yeah, like you needed to read that. Sorry. I held knitting in my hands for awhile. I cast on for the pretty pink sweater in the Fons & Porter's "Love of Knitting" mag, but after discovering another damaged right out of the package KnitPicks cable, and getting it all put back together on the other one, it was lights out for me again. Lil' miss droopy-drawers and her ill-timed naps...

I think it's time for a dose of something. This is the first time I've been able to commandeer the computer since Monday evening... those greedy chirruns have discovered watching cartoons online. The saddest thing about this tonsillectomy has been the discovery that not all pain can be controlled by narcotics. My whole face can be numb, but the throat still hurts... a lot. Every day is supposed to get better. I hope that begins tomorrow, because the getting worse part is getting to be a drain. I am so thankful to Melly and Robin and LeAnn for keeping the shop open. Sorry I can't chat you up today, or even call to check on you. Herr Becher is as useless as ever when it comes to phoning for me. He even cost me a date with Miss Melly today. (I wasn't asleep when you called, just in some kind of drugged stupor.) Thank you all for the well-wishes. They mean a great deal to me. I'm told pretty things have gone up in the shop. I can't wait to get back. Latah, knittas and crafty vixens... C

Pre-post. take two

I had been hoping for a bit of wasabi/celery green, with Mediterranean blue inside the windows, with the arches and lintels painted white. Clearly, I do not own the building.

Remember these old things? I suspect Melly is anxious to end her case of the Clap to move along to the Colinette 'Jitterbug' socks. Her colorway? This one... Gauguin. We were separated at birth. (She hogged all the tall.)

Pre-post, take one

A wonderfully bright, Asian-inspired quilt top magically appeared while I was out weighing in tonight. This one is courtesy of Shari, who is mighty fine at wielding a rotary cutter. The blocks are perfectly perfect in every way. I like that about Miss Shari... a touch of the OCD makes everything better. This quilt was made to (sort of, a little, pretty muchly) enhance the sky blue ceilings in the shop. Oh, yes, eventually I'll stop trying to color-coordinate the quilts to Clementine's. Now just isn't the time. Alexandra Stoddard would approve, I'm just sure of it.

These photos are a study in sleepiness. Ever thought you could sleep standing up? Eli did just that on Monday afternoon. You can't tell it, but his little knees would buckle every few seconds, but he didn't wake up. Please ignore the obvious dried cereal milk that Lilly can't remember to wipe off the chairs after breakfast. To have such simple chores to neglect. I don't have an excuse for why the chair isn't at the table, either, except to say Eli mostly uses the furniture for evil and 'not good'... and really naughty, with an occasional "What the hell were you thinking?" thrown in for good measure.

These photos are really just fodder for the "Where's Eli sleeping now" album that Thimbleanna got me started on when she made her first trek into the shop last year. He really just shuts it down at random moments. I hadn't noticed how funny he was till she pointed her ginormous camera at him that first afternoon. Now it's gotten to be something of a habit. Sometimes I stalk my children...
By the time most of you read this, I'll just be coming out of my drug-induced nap. Thanks in advance for all the well-wishes. I expect once the throat settles down, I'll be able to catch up on blogs and leave medicated comments all over the bloggy-sphere. Tomorrow I shall show you the side of the building with it's sample paint job. Sadly, no other commentary is required.

The Juice is Back On

Of all the trees in the yard, it had to be the one with the bluebird house on it that blew over last night. I really wanted to keep up my posts, but last night's power outage lasted until after four this morning. I'm really pleased about having the generator, and it was still running the essentials on one tank of gas when 'Boris' got up (yes, at four...ugh) for work. The previous night we had constant power interruptions; just enough to make posting impossible. Aside from the hickory tree, there are just armloads of sticks to be gathered up. Enough for a Halloween bonfire, I'd say. Not a terrible development from two nights of hella windy/stormy weather.

Another Becher Haus Mystery has been solved. Just when I thought I was losing my marbles, or possibly developing some rare and exotic food allergy (allergic to Weight Watchers "ice cream" bars?), along comes photographic evidence to explain the hives I get daily after my shower. Nothing like a little cat dander in the morning, with itchy welts you get to wear all day. She's turrble cute, though.

Tomorrow is my big day. Goodbye, tonsils. I won't miss you, you stinky, gross things. I've loaded the freezer with popsicles and am hoping the man will take me out after my weigh-in this evening. Sort of a 'last supper' thing. I may require steak. Medicinal purposes, you know. C

Dear Robin and Mike,
I don't know where to begin this letter to you both. Suffice it to say, when I asked if I could tell people, you didn't consider the public forum of the blog. Hearing that Mike was given a diagnosis of lymphoma crushed me. Had it not been for caller id, I'm not even sure I'd have recognized your voice on the phone this morning, Rob. Even the words "Mike has cancer" didn't register at first. The raw emotion in your voice made me weep and I'm sorry I'm such a weenie. I didn't want to believe it. My day was spent grappling with the idea of Mr. Mike's illness, but you guys have to live through this ordeal. There are still a hundred questions, but mostly the voice in my head is still screaming why? What stage was it caught at? How long and aggressive are the treatments? Will he have the strength to battle it? Will it hurt to hug on him and love him and make him eat good food to keep up his strength, and will the treatments make him too sick to keep food down? Dizzying questions, nagging my thoughts all day.

Lilly has drawn Mike a "get well" card, but the man in the drawing got off pretty lucky. Near as I can tell, he's down with a cold. If only it were that simple for Mike. My heart felt like it stopped beating when I heard you on the phone this morning. Like I could never draw a breath again. Even as I type now, with the tears stinging my eyes, I have to remember that you are you, and stubborn is your middle name, but if you need to be a puddle for awhile, you know where to find me. Being as strong as you think you ought to be will be wearying. You have a place to pull yourself back together with me... I can't promise not to puddle with you, but there's always a box of Kleenex handy. We'll mop it up and you can get back to your man.

Mike, you could not have a better woman at your side to help you through your fight to be better. I know I don't ever want to be on her bad side, so please do what she and the good docs say. You can't leave anyway. Robin will just ruin the yard with too many plants, and then there's the pool-boy she hasn't shopped for yet. You can't let her alone with the landscaping... and I'm pretty sure the pool-boy won't be safe, either.

My thoughts are with you both this evening. Prayers for recovery, for rest, and for the strength to cope in the weeks and months ahead have been said for the two of you. They will be repeated as often as necessary. I just hope God holds up to his usual standard of letting me have my way. I love you both. C

In Case of Emergency

Today was LeAnn's training day at the shop. She and Melly have been coerced into being Clementine whilst I'm resting comfortably on Percocets and popsicles next week. The register is no problem, nor the actual "customer relations" aspect. The tricky bit will be wielding the rotary cutter without bloodshed. I expect all her digits intact when I come back, unlike this unlucky son (Poor baby... and poor mom!) Pop over and wish that little man well. Steph, if I lived next door, you'd be properly medicated. *smooches*

The haus needed some attention this evening when I arrived home. It's not catastrophic by a long ways (okay, some parts of Becher Haus are teetering on the abyss, but I've trained everyone to not look down), but the idea of staying home and enjoying my convalescing in a pit of despair is especially unappealing. I may have scrubbed a toilet. I certainly began another load of laundry. The vacuum cleaner will undoubtedly be called into service later for a quick swipe at the bunnies/buffalos in the corners. I can see dust balls clinging to the cat when she crawls out from under the bed. Yes, there is much to deal with before Tuesday. I may even fire up the mop *gasp* and tackle the sticky bits on the kitchen floor. I know. Strange that my 'hospitalization' is just for tonsils, and not the nervous breakdown I'll have worked myself into prior to my surgery.

I must go make sure all the Becher chirruns are properly cleaned and brushed and ready for bed. It's getting dark and a few quiet hours of knitting are in order before I call it a day. I have a great many projects on the needles, and precious few things are getting finished. I'm trying to get a second sock done for the snappy little shop-keep to wear while she's filling my shoes. Latah, knittahs. C

Compare and Contrast

Miss Caroline came in with a really big goodie Wednesday (as I type this it's nearly midnight, so I'd better use proper nouns, or risk confusing my future-self). This quilt only has three fabrics in it. I know. The two Asian fabrics are from Blank Quilting (the 'Yoshiko' collection), and the bold yellow is from Lakehouse Dry Goods. Kaleidoscopes have been on my brain for weeks now, and this choice for a "sample quilt" just couldn't be any more fabulous. All hail the Caroline and her magic quilts!

In stark contrast to the complicated and absolutely brilliant quilt above, here below I give you "the waiting rag". Yes, it is of un-pedigreed cotton from a local JoAnn's, as are the *cough*Clover*cough* needles, but it was two hours of fruitful twiddling. (I customized the tops with red nail lacquer... snappy, eh?)

#1 Son is perfectly fine, btw, and not the least disturbed about the pending "root-canal redux". I, on the other hand, will have to remember to bring a better class of knitting... perhaps the latest version of the Clap? (Hint: it's butter-yellow, and half silk. Yum!)

Unfortunate Son

So, when you call and make an appointment for your child to have two root canals, and you ask if they can be done all in one go, and you explain that they are on opposite sides of said child's mouth, and you ask that your child be sedated, which keeps you from using the endodontist that your hygienist really likes, for the one who is just fine but also has the training to dispense nitrous, and then Mr. Endodontist won't knock your kid loopier than the third floor of a mental institution, and he explains that, while terrific schedulers, those pretty girls up in the front office informed me incorrectly about the "routine" of root canals (because they can't count to two?), and how only one side of the mouth can be involved at a time, and since I'm obviously not busy this month, it shouldn't be a problem to see the boy back in two weeks for his other procedure... if this happens, I believe that an evening off from blogging is in order, just because I couldn't think of anything nice to say. I still can't, but the sudden onset of Tourette's seems to be subsiding.



I had to plead my son's case, as I come from a rather difficult gene pool of people who don't get or stay numb. We have no reaction to certain medications (Valium is useless to me, even in quantities that would drop a horse), and I've endured several medical procedures where Xylocaine was fruitlessly employed. The lumpectomy of 2003, and tooth-extraction of 2005 are the most notable, because I'd warned the doctors ahead of time, so they'd be ready with the big guns. They didn't listen, I was tortured, and the look on Dr. Lumpectomy's face suggested I'd just shaved a few years off his life. I was determined #1 son would not be likewise tormented. They gave him Valium. (Hello? Is this thing on?) I haven't seen him yet this morning to see how he's feeling. He went to bed with a belly full of Motrin. I think he gets more milkshakes for lunch today. And that weirdly busy Sept. 22nd? Add another two-hour root canal to the mix.

On the positive side of things, I purchased Jane Brockett's book at B&N. Sadly, the cover is quite ugly, having been changed from it's original dust jacket to appeal to us stoopid, uncultured Americans. Way to screw it up, Stewart, Tabori, & Chang. If you're a Yarnstorm reader, save your pennies. The content has all been previously published on her blog. Oh, wait. I was going to be positive. I forget to haul knitting with me, so I dashed into Big Box sewing and craft store and bought dishrag cotton and 5mm needles. Got a finished object in one session of knitting (because I was furiously trying to ignore the political chatter coming from the ginormous t.v. strategically situated so you could not get away from it, no matter where you sat.)

As a dyed in the wool conservative, so many topics are 'off limits' for this forum, but let me just say, a junior senator who chooses Joe Biden (gah!) as his running mate is not only out of his depths, he's out of his gourd to think he can handle the tough business of running the country. All those famous people who promised to leave if Bush got re-elected in 2004 are still here... because there is no where else to go. As a nation we are unique. We have rights and freedoms even the broadest minded Europeans can't fathom (we hosted a German exchange student in 2004, so I have a smidgen of an idea how shocking we are), and to entertain the notion that Oprah's boy-genius can handle world affairs when he couldn't even be bothered to visit wounded soldiers while in Germany, choosing instead to go shopping... well, if you throw him your vote and wind up penniless, broken, and living in a land that can barely remember it's former self, you deserve all the heartache you can bear. Taxing the businesses that make the economy run is short sighted and self-defeating. Punishing the ten percent of the population that pay ninety percent of the taxes will ruin us. It's just too bad the 19th amendment ever took hold. If we chicks had never gotten the vote, Socialism would never have had the chance to take root in American soil. This wasn't meant to be a mini-rant. I'm rarely political in person, but the huge dose I had to swallow yesterday was making me ill. It seems you're only allowed an opinion if you're a Lib, and if you intend on typing bumper-stickers at me in the comment box... knock yourself out. I may need some humor to get me through the next two weeks. C

Our Sunday Visitor

Blue-tailed skinks at Becher Haus. Cute, but creepy. Very skinny toes. Not sure I'll ever be able to step out onto the porch barefoot... ever.

One of my post-medication dreams the other night was that the haus was completely still. Absolute silence. I was walking around, looking at how clean everything was, and marveling at my ability to hear my own thoughts, when all of a sudden I realized that Eli should be around, making his usual noises, terrorizing his siblings (and where were they?), and it popped into my mind that he was hiding somewhere, having discovered a box of matches. This morning I promptly gathered up all the stray boxes from the power-outage stashes I have all over the place.

The pink hen is the repository of all that is strikeable. Always in the cupboard, patiently waiting the call to duty. Now I just have to make sure Eli doesn't go surfing through the dishes in search of trouble. Tomorrow is Mitchell's big day. We're all going out early, running a few errands, do a little shopping, get his hair cut... all before the endodontist bit. Gah. Send gin.

Whirly-gig

A super-speedy trip through the local supermarket marked the beginning of week's end, not to be confused with the actual weekend you may already be experiencing. Thus has begun a sort of count-up: two days until #1 son's double root canal, three days till daughter, the sequel's sealants go on, nine days until the 'Love Shack' patchwork class, ten days until my tonsillectomy, sixteen days until both son-the-second's visit to the oral surgeon and the sweater class/knit-along begins... it makes me kind of dizzy, and more than a bit anxious, because I am a simple sort of person. Ask anybody. I can't even keep track of an organizer, much less be bothered to write things down in it. This month will be a pint-sized "growth opportunity". (You'll find me huddled in the corner, whimpering and pounding my head against the wall. Just check back on the 30th.)

The newsletter went out yesterday. I got to add a few more names today, and for the really cute blonde chick who couldn't see the photos, I think you just need to remove the parental controls. (They're 'stock photos' anyhow... you'll have to tune in to next month's issue to see the stack-and-whack quilt blocks, along with the October *new feature* itty-bitty-knitty project.) I'm taking my first official stab at writing a pattern for the project, and hope to have a link to the free pattern within the issue (cue the Melly!). Jeez, that sounds busy, doesn't it? You can't stop stupid... at least not when I'm on a roll.

Btw, Caroline came in with said quilt blocks and I nearly pee'd my pants. Wow. All amazing kaleidoscopic gorgeousness, but you can curl up in it. Awesome. I have two talented chicas stitching up sample quilts right this minute, and they've offered to make more. (Can you stand it? It so 'citing!)
Well, the wee-est of the wee Bechers has gone and passed out, so I'm taking that as my cue to put this blog to bed, too. Tomorrow will be a picture-post... I don't know yet about content. We'll see what happens after my eyes are pried open. C

Friday, already?

I've just run a pin through my finger from the wrong end (the plastic "flower heads" on Clover pins suck), and am currently trying to find a niche in my schedule to have my tonsils out. Between the five kids, Herr Becher's over-time, store hours and classes at the shop, and not having family around to assist, I may be one cranky lil' girl for awhile. This morning I was reading a 'homeschool rag' article about not getting overwhelmed. Funny, that. I already don't take my children to soccer/piano/art/language lessons, nor do we make a regular habit of having "busy days". The Children's Museum is the only place we tend to gravitate towards, and infrequently at that. I seem to be out of options as to where I can cut back and salvage my sanity (bah!).

That being said, I suspect Melly is having quite a tiresome day. There wasn't swearing, per se, but she's duking it out with the text and photos for the newsletter... I'll be calling her soon, to see how she's holding up. I probably owe her a steak dinner and a movie... and yarn.

I am going to go set up my sewing machine and get some cute baby things made for the shower at the end of the month. Type at y'll crafty mommas latah. C

p.s. Apparently Gaylen has had an eventful morning. She's been seen traipsing about her yard clad only in her bathrobe, posing her quilt top for photo-ops. Thanks for the pretty pics, girlie... now go get dressed!

The Snaps

A smattering of the latest to arrive at the shop. The new Heather Bailey collections are a riot of color, and I'm adding them as the budget allows. Apple green, icy blue, and sunny yellow all vie for attention on a shelf...

while the latest additions to the Kaffe Fassett cupboard are exploring their 'blue period'. How bad do you want to see these in an English strippy quilt? I know. I love how that man's mind works. He may be a genius (and I might be an adoring fan).

Photos to Follow

Yesterday was hectic and fun; today promises to be more of the same. Most of the new fabrics have arrived (Westminster rocks!) and I'll be spending the morning arranging them and hopefully getting a few pics to tag onto the newsletter, which hasn't gone out yet simply due to my own incompetence. Old dog, new tricks, and no time free to try and learn them. I'm hoping to be rescued, but I'm a rather large damsel who already takes medication for her distress... so, as you may well assume, there isn't a line of knights at the door. See you back here later for show and tell! C

Dyeing for string

Big plans for tomorrow today... but later, after sleep and taking the middle three Becher kinder to have their fangs cleaned by our favorite tooth fairy (Hey, Steph!). I forgot to bring the yarns home today anyway, and I suspect the only vinegar in the haus is of the apple cider variety. A trip to the grocery is needed. (Without my diet 'snacky-foods', I'm sort of a cranky battle-axe.) My monkey fell out of it's tree when #1 son dived for the last peach. I relinquished ownership of it, but may take to hoarding/hiding fruit in the haus... which, as an executive fat girl, seems dirty and wrong to me, but so is wrestling an eleven year old for a peach. Yeah, you read that right. Lil' big girl has gone all high-fiber and healthy. Maybe this high-fiber quest is what has started the desire to paint my own yarns. Or it could be the realization that I have a lot of bald yarn to gussie up. Anyway, we'll see how it goes later today. I may put the chirruns to work outside with the painting bits to do, or kettle dye the yarns in big batches. But for now, the Xanax has kicked in and I'm possibly too wiped to type. Updates with photos later. Smooches, pooches. C