new pretties

Here's some text, to tell you what wonders you're beholding. Above, a selection of Kaffe Fassett fabrics intended to raise your pulse and get you a little drunk on color...

And down here we have some Martha Negley cupcake fabric. This stuff is rare and delightful, and about as harmless as a baked confection can be. Makes you want buttercream icing, dunnit?

These are the sample p.j. pants that the lovely Miss Ashley sewed for the class she's teaching at the shop. They are a.) adorable, 2.) simple to sew, and lastly.) they are just the thing you want to put on your bum when your day has whacked you into submission and you want only to pop a chick-flick in and eat soft, sugary food till you pass out. (Note the draw-string for multi-size ease of wearing... fat pants... skinny pants... and back.)

Coon hounds and coughing

That's my morning in a nutshell. The whole point of building a house in BFE was to get away from Other People's Noise (not to be confused with Other People's Children, but I do try to avoid most of them, too), but the wee hours of the morning found me dragged back to consciousness by the sounds of 'joyful' dogs. For those of you not familiar with the mechanics of "running the dogs", it goes a little something like this:
A.) Imagine the noisiest hound dog you've ever met. This morning's versions sound like beagles. They make a baying sound, deep to high-pitched, when they alert, so now imagine that...

B.) In order to get the dogs to "hunt" and not just want to frolic in the cold morning grass, they didn't get any food yesterday... or possibly the day before. Now imagine you're the dog, just let out of the cramped kennel. You stretch your legs and launch from the tailgate of the truck and then you smell it... the tantilizing scent of a twenty to thirty pound ring-tailed rodent. All you have to do is find it, allow your human to shoot it, and the entrails are your's for the taking...

C.) Because you (the dog) are the property of a seventh generation hill jack, your owner's land is free and clear of all enticing rodents. The knuckle-dragger has friends though, friends with their own dogs and land, or parents with well-stocked acreage, so for a case of beer and a mornings' worth of shotgun shells, you have access to much better hunting grounds.

If I seem disparaging against my "neighbors", it is only because of my husband's heartbreak. Several years ago a black and tan coon hound showed up in our yard. She was about eight months old, thin, and scared of loud noises. (She pushed her way in through the living room window screen to be indoors during a summer storm.) We had Betty for sixteen days while trying to find her owner. Finally, one of our newspaper adds paid off and we knew where Betty belonged, once the owner's wife mentioned a small umbilical hernia. We popped her into the van and away we went, but 'Boris' says to this day if we'd known how horrible that dog's living conditions were, we never would have taken her back. It was sort of thing nightmares are made out of. I know there are hunters who appreciate their dogs, or even (dare I say it?) love them, but that's less than ordinary in these parts.

My children are all snot-full and miserable, with scratchy throats and coughing. The sounds of gleeful hunting at sunrise were not welcomed, as now the kids are all up and hacking away. The honey bear is half-past empty and the tea supply is low, so poor 'Boris' will have to journey out to the grocery for supplies. He was planning to do it anyway, but it's nicer when your five kids don't sound like they're dying all over the store. Now I need my decaf, a shower, and some quality time with Clementine. Type at y'all latah. C

Sales tax increase day

Oh, man, do I hope Red and Melly can make it to knit-night tonight. The sales tax went up one percent today, to help take the edge off property taxes (yeah, right) and of course, to assist in the purchase of the new stadium. (For a football franchise that could well afford to finance their own, but what do I know of such things?) I'm not even a fan. I like a good knock-down, bloodied-up sporting event... ice hockey, rugby, kick-boxing... all good, and ever so entertaining. Anyway, between the two of them, they'll be able to convince the computer to change it's electronic mind in the point-of-sale program. (I know, I should learn, but I am a middle-aged dog and these are scary, new tricks.)

Today was also the tax-guy meeting. I have to say I may just love Mr. Taxman to pieces. He didn't even flinch as I poured papers all over his desk. He refrained from shrieking like a girl when I handed over the file box and bag(s) of receipts, statements, and miscellaneous forms to be filled out. And he figured the amount of sales tax I needed to pay, wrote in all the lines of the proper form, and all I need to do is mail the check. Whooo-hooo! Can I get an "Amen"? Thank you.
This is the year that "Boris" has declined to "do" the taxes, as the business mess made it too confusing and more than a little anxiety-producing... and this way he avoids jail if the papers are filed incorrectly. That's worth a few dimes, no?

I'm off to spend a few hours with the chirruns and the spouse. Miss Melly has just graciously offered to knit a layette set out of 'the glut of organic cotton' for display purposes. (Whew!) Coming up in the weeks ahead... new handpainted yarns from the beautiful (and strangely athletic) Lotus, and I'm told the yarn love will be shipping soon. So much fiber-y goodness, so little knitting time. Latah, knittas. C

"Tomorrow's post"

Here's a color-sampling of the naturally-dyed, organic cotton glut that the shop is drowning in... good colors, but they won't leave... help.

This photo just begged to be let back onto the blog. The perma-cast gray skies actually gave good light for the photo. Now if I could just twitch my nose, nod my head, and magic a tote bag out of the one on the far left. (I told you my 'colors' are off-kilter... )

I have my county assessor's forms to get filled out tonight/tomorrow, which is why there won't be a post for the 31st. Try and have a pleasant day without me. Tuesday is knit-night. I will so need that. More later... C

Das Loot

From Ruhama's, above: "Jitterbug'' from Colinette Yarns. Can't seem to get the darn pic to publish... I'm staring at an ex'ed out little box. It's pretty, though. Very different from my usual palette. This could signal a major personality shift. Need more proof? Check out the new stash of Malabrigo...

Need I say more? Of course, some of the items that jumped into my arms were in my 'comfort colors' of reds, pinks, corals, and (oddly I am just realizing it) yellows and golds. Check out the pretty flower buttons. I bought every one Ruhama's had. Eighteen of them. I have no idea what to do with them, but it's sure fun to dump them out and play with them.

Tommorrow's post will happen later today. I have plans to show you the new "Midwest Modern" fabrics from Amy Butler that now are on display here at the shop. Also, I was apparently drunk or on fire when the Rowan rep "helped" me order the spring yarns, and now I'm finding myself drowning in Purelife organic cotton. If you are nearby, please come grab an armload to take with you, or if you'd like to knit up some bibs... call me. I mean it. There's a ton of this stuff. Latah, knittahs. C

Photo cord rescue

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Originally uploaded by clementinesdrygoods
Passed out boy in a hotel room. I'm only putting this one up for our favorite photog, as she will appreciate the laid-back style which Master Eli now finds so relaxing. No more doorways for him.

Down here you'll find a picture of "Norman". He's the resident "sock knitter" we went to meet up in Wisconsin (at the 'Just 4 Ewe). Those are Jan's hands, but she's more easily recognized by her brightly colored locks of hair. I meant to ask her if the teal fades as quickly as the pink and purple.
(Today was hat day at Clementine's. I really have to get after my white roots tomorrow... or wear the pink hat.)


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Originally uploaded by clementinesdrygoods

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Originally uploaded by



This is the delicious, chunky-monkey nephew who gave me an 'almost' smile as he sat in the hotel room and played. By "played" I mean that we chatted with his parents and he spent some time doing re-con work... where the outlets were, how the plugs were attached to the fridge and air-conditioner, and how best to pull up onto the coffee table to grapple the jelly beans before mom could stop him. He's definately on to this "walking" gig. I expect his parents won't know what hit them. Heh, heh.

The last of the run-down

Blogga-saga, part deux.
The 'in a nutshell' version is that I tortured my husband and five children for the sole purpose of trying to catch a glimpse of my grandmother. In the two days of our "visit" she had not one lucid moment where she recognized me or the kids. She was even heard whispering to the Crazy Aunt "who are those people?" and I heard Crazy Aunt reply "your first grandchild and her babies. All those pretty babies are your great-grandchildren." Yep. 'Boris' hit it on the head when he stated, as we piled into the truck, "your gran is all gone." I believe you are correct, sir.

Other aspects of the trip can't be discussed without my needing anesthesia, so we'll leave it at that for now. I keep thinking of the "I Am" post I want to do, but it would turn out to be a poison-pen letter if I had my go at it today.

In other news, I have in fact lost the camera cord, though it can't have gone far. I suspect the naughty Siamese dragged it about while home alone for those many days. I was stunned to see she hadn't flipped the computer off the desk, actually. Bit of a psycho, that one.

Lastly, today, if you are a fabriholic, please join me in saving Ann. She is hotly in pursuit of the new "Drawing Room" fabrics from Anna Maria Horner, and may in fact explode if she doesn't get her hands on some soon. I need to prioritize a purchase list, as these were all printed on home-dec weight fabric, which doubles my cost. I'd planned on ordering the whole caboodle, but with sales down this season, the knot is tied in the rope and we're hanging on. Also, if anyone has a 'fill-in-the-blanks' business plan I can drag into a bank, e-mail me. There are no brain cells left for another "creative writing assignment"... I've been trying to articulate Clementine's for the web pages Ann is designing. (I lurve her crafty-goodness.)

It's well into the evening now, and I need to chase all the kids through the shower, car-wash style, and then hold Eli till he passes out, then type up said blurbs for web site and get them to Miss Crafty Ann before she tears my ears off. I know I'll be seeing her tomorrow... she just found out all the new Amy Butler fabric has arrived. Type at y'all latah. C

Clean out the camera Thursday

Just before we were to embark on our helluva trip, one of my customers brought me an Easter cake. You can't really tell from the photo, but behind all those Peeps and under the jelly-bird eggs is a massive coconut nest. It was pretty much a diabetic coma just waiting to happen. That's what I love about having a shop... I get to meet lovely people who bring me cake! Yesterday Melly brought me a butter cake. Have you had one of those things? Whoa. Just whoa.

I downloaded the photos from the trip and somehow all my really good baby snaps of the new nephew didn't download, so here is a shot of the Golden Child, that is to say, the brother-brat. He looks more like Owen Wilson from the front, only his nose has been broken just the one time (when he turned to see how close our Corgi, Poochie, was to catching him and turned smack into a tree at age five) and yeah, he has 'butt-chin'. You have no idea how difficult it was to get him to stand still for this shot... he's a regular Barbra Streisand about the 'profile'...

You should've seen his baby pictures. Turrrble cute. And plaid-clad. Gah.

Easter week in review, part one

I got mixed up in shop-stuff today and never did get the photos uploaded; now it's too late in the evening because everyone's clogging up the interwebs, getting their geek on. My poor little air-card can't take it. So, here's your last chance to bail before getting mired in the sad little story of 'Gullible's Travels'. You were warned.

Part One, in which our heroine confronts the possibility that everything she suspected about both yarn shops and "luxury hotels" is fictitious.
D-fly and I went to three yarn shops on the 18th of March. Ruhama's was surprisingly great, given the lack of interest I witnessed there last spring. I got good grope-time with loads of Colinette yarns, bought cute buttons, and made some cool discoveries. They remain one of my all-time fav shops. Koigu lives there, too. Next up, Loop...

Shockingly, the fun little shop on the corner in Bay View was no longer in Bay View, on a corner, or any fun. It has been moved and turned into some perverted gourmet yarn salon, with Ikea'd boxes stuffed with yarn and no chairs anywhere. I do seem to recall a bar stool, but it was behind the cash register counter, with a woman planted on it. The premise of this new location is strategically placed seating in the coffee shop next door. A symbiotic relationship. As all 'salons' are want to do, certain items were 'luxury priced' to make them more tantalizing for the unconscious consumer. I know what certain yarns "go for" and far be it from me to gig another shop for trying to make an extra buck... or six... on yarn that is, admittedly, tough to get enough of. Supply, demand, blah, blah, blah. Once D got me outside I stopped hyperventilating and looked down at my hands. Somehow I'd bought two more balls of that infuriating "Fixation" stretchy yarn. I've already done away with it, and it will never ensnare me again. It was, however, the most reasonably priced yarn in the whole place. Oy.

Then we were off to shop the last, the charming and packed to the rafters cave of fiber-y goodness known as Just 4 Ewe, in Oak Creek. Jan is the ringleader of this riot of color. She owns a circa 1914 sock knitting machine named Norman. It was here that I had to go back the next day, with spouse in tow. Jan gave me a demo and talked about what to look for if I should decide to hunt one down for my very own. I bought more Malabrigo yarn than the day before, picked up a seriously amazing sweater pattern, and had a wonderful time pawing all the rovings and silks for spinning. Across the way from her shop is Kaleidoscope Beads. I had to make two pilgrimages inside there, too. I came out with dichroic glass pendants both times. Lurve them.

After a fairly restful Wednesday, we were again at the mercy of the road on Thursday. Super-smart spouse managed to shave off about two hours of our journey, given that the 'rents live more toward the big lake and less in the middle of a national forest. Not having to traverse Wisconsin caddy-wampus makes a huge diff, as it turns out, and we arrived at the Hotel Chequamegon before nightfall... only to discover... that every single toilet in the entire hotel was routed between our bedroom walls, and that the pool filter gets a bad case of indigestion just after midnight... every night.
We had the "good rooms", the rooms with 14 foot ceilings and eight windows arching out over a view of the frozen lake. Just goes to show how little "luxury" can be had in the frozen north. Also, I would like to add there were no places to have one's eyebrows waxed, and no bars where you couldn't get a pizza or basket of fried fish with your drink. Also, there was a lot of plaid... and ear-flappy hats... and trucks parked on the lake with their drivers hunting fish (who are attracted to the freshly oxygenated water from the holes chipped in the ice and that yummy bait and all) on a sheet of friggen' ice (omigod,omigod,omigod). Do you know what that does to a person with an anxiety disorder? Do you? It seriously compromises her stash of meds, is what it does.

That is all I can type for tonight, as the pressing matter of sleep has to be dealt with. Tomorrow is another day, and all I can hope for is that I get some actual paperwork done. Or laundry. Clean undies might need to become a priority one issue. Latah, knittas.

Escape from Suburbitraz

So, apparently my 'guest blogger' got her hairs cut and colored and then became too cute to do this blog-thing for me whilst I was trapped in a flying Suburban (really, it was probably the xanax, but why ruin the mystique?) with my five off-sprigs and beloved spouse.

The past eight days saw us putting over two thousand miles on our automobile (who just flashed on "Long Duck Dong" from 'Sixteen Candles'? You're old. And so am I.) It wasn't fun, it wasn't pretty, and I know now that it takes more than just a few hundred dollars of yarn to make the car ride bearable. A lot more.

More thing #1.) Getting to meet new nephew was especially nice, as dude has the most enormous fat rolls on his thighs... and his knees... and his wrists. He's adorable, and even seemed to 'get me' when I had to snurffle the back of his head and he let me hold him and everything. For a baby from the Becher gene-pool this is big stuff. They are generally a cantankerous bunch of breastfed momma's baby's. This guy is made of tougher stuff. Could be his daddy's Dutch-ness. Hmmm. Time will tell.

More thing #2.) Jewelry, and lots of it. The champagne-diamond ear studs are mine. I also left with two pendants, enormous amber earrings, and some other ear-blings too varied to mention here. I almost want more pierced parts to display them all at once. Almost. Add to this pile of stash the two dichroic glass pendants I bought myself and the sparkle-haul was substantial.

More thing #3.) Coming home to both a box of "Dream in Color" yarn and an e-mail from the funnest knitting mag ever telling me they got my info and I'll be listed in the summer issue's shop directory, and seven additional IP issues. Swoon.

There are highlights and lowlights (much like Melly's hair) that I'd love to spill about, but for now it's all about my first decent cup of decaf in a week, curling up with 'Boris' on the sofa in front of some netflix, and getting the travel-stink washed out of the clothes. It's good to be back. I missed you. C

Thirsty Thursday

Surrogate blogger melly checking in for Camilla. She called me earlier this evening and told me to work some computer magic and put a 'Cami is here' sort of arrow on this picture. I got 'rotunda' and 'it's ok if you can only find a picture with snow, there's a ton of it here!' Well, if you know me, you know I only half listen to the stuff that spews from her mouth (sorry Cam) but I did get this much - Cami isn't a Hotel 8 sort of gal. Check out her new (albeit temporary) digs:This is the lovely Hotel Chequamegon (you did spell it right, Cami!) overlooking Lake Superior. Which tells me she'll wake to the sounds of seagulls in the morning. At least there is a lounge in the basement with adult type beverages. 'Thirsty Thursday' indeed. I'm thinking they're going to have to drag 'Boris' and Clementine up the stairs to their room after spending nine hours in the Suburban with the whole Becher Brood today. At one point I'm afraid Cami was giving truck driving lessons as the F word came from her lips no less than seven times in under a minute. I told a mutual friend, "I wouldn't even want to pile five kids in the car to go to the grocery store!" How she's doing this whole trek to the top of the country thing is beyond me. And no yarn stores today. Oy.

If you need pictures of knitting, hop over to my place for some lovely magic looping. I've got some serious mad skillz.

Hurry home, Cami! I miss you!

Guest Blogging Day 1

Hi fans, melly here, guest blogging whilst Camilla and the rest of the Becher Brood visit the parental units up north. In spite of all the necessary catching up with the family, she's managed to visit more than a few yarn stores in the less than 36 hours she's been gone. One store was so dang good she had to go back for more - Malabrigo, that is. Her stash has grown exponentially and it's only the first day of her trip. Bill, you're in trouble. You may need to purchase a luggage rack for a few of the chirruns cause you know Cami would never put her yarn up there! She tried to send me a picture of her ever growing stash but doesn't have the necessary whatever it takes on her cell phone. Pictures will have to wait.

I just wanted to let you all know Cami is surviving the trip thus far (remember though, it's the first day!) and plans on surviving another 9 hours in the car with the Becher Brats angels tomorrow as they head ever northward. The Malabrigo should help.

Till next time, melly out.

Beam me up, Scotty

In keeping with Thimbleanna's post titles last week, I thought I'd just throw that one out there. I lost count of how many loads of laundry have been done, but now, at almost 1:30 A.M., I can honestly say I've been licked. I'd throw in the towel, but they're all waiting to go into the dryer.

Yesterday (which seems odd, since I haven't been to bed yet for it to be "tomorrow") Melly and her son, Justin, met me and the brood at the mall for some last-minute panic shopping. I did not get new eyeglass frames, because in addition to no raises, no cost-of-living adjustments, and the huge increase in our insurance premiums, those "one hour" people no longer have the sweet deals for Federal employees. (You can recognize government worker-bees by the careful way they sit.) This means I'll have to (groan) research our "benefits" (har) plan and shop around to avoid getting totally bent over on the frames (sigh). Because I have so much spare time on my hands these days. I think I just pee'd my pants a little with the gales of laughter that just escaped me.

In yesterday's comment's, Jaye mentioned her business partner coming to Indiana over Easter... which makes me want to cry (except the pain meds I took for my laundry-induced back ache are working verrry well) that of all the visitors I've gotten to meet, greet, and show around Clementine's , I have to miss the one I've been waiting for for months. Gah! The new Amy Butler fabrics have started to arrive; twelve bolts "yesterday "(still feels weird... must sleep soon), and twenty-six more will be here any day. The 'martini dots' are fantastic. I certainly hope she enjoys the shop... perhaps she can come the 26th, if she's still around... that's when the shop gets "back to normal".

I just remembered I have to e-mail IK with my fifteen words for my shop-listing. Ye gads, but I'm a forgetful mess. I should have the shop listed in the summer issue (in the back... I can't afford an actual ad yet), but all the lists of words I've strung together seem pretty lame. It's going to end up sounding like a grocery list, only for yarn. Oh, hold on a minute. I just realized knitter's have no problem with that... and how cool if we could buy yarn at the grocer's? I know.

Well, I have to get some real sleep. Even the dog is snoring in her crate. (She sounds like an old man with a deviated septum. Very alluring.) Later today I'll be with D-fly doing a mini yarn crawl. Yay! I'd forgotten there were some pretty fantastic things planned. Tough to remember when tackling a mountain of dirty duds. Look up. Smell roses. Count blessings. Get sleep. Type at y'all when I next get to a computer. *smooches* C

Ode to a suitcase

The bits and bobs of daily life you hold with great finesse,
the pieces of my sanity nestled amongst the underpants.

When uprooting one's life should you envisage,
try to account for all of the baggage.

Should tempers and nostrils begin to flare... well, it just gets more pathetic as the verses go on. There are loads of rhymes for flare, but it's nearly midnight and I'm trying to get a jump on my "pre-posting".

Obviously Sunday's post was created in a state of frustration. Today I'm trying to be an oasis of calm. Hopefully lots of things will get done today. I type "today" as it's almost midnight, the cat is stalking me, and the mister has to be up for work in four hours, so really, the day has started before it's ended. I'd made a solemn promise to go to sleep the same day I woke up, but you can see the flaw in that plan. Timing issues. Waking up the same day you go to sleep isn't quite the same restful plan. Unless you're a Goth Chick who craves deep shadows under her eyes. I have those now, too. The next wave of allergy season is upon us. Soon I'll be drowning in my neti pot. That thing really does work, btw. Plus it has the added cache of totally creeping my kids out. It's the only 'alone time' I get in the bathroom.

Today is the last day home. I have plans to grab lunch out with the kids and one (or two?) of muh knittas, shop for the perfect eyeglass frames (smart, cute, and not too nerdy) and those elusive undergarments for the whole kid-caboodle, and sort out my knitting for the trip. I've started corn socks for one of the grandmas. As she was a farmer's wife, who helped run the shelling business as well for close to fifty years, I expect she'll get a kick out of "Maizy" socks. Type at y'all latah. C