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We have over 1000 yards of plaids to choose from!
Buy 2 yards, get a 3rd yard at 1/2 price!
Buy 4 yards, get a 5th yard free and a surprise!
Great Stash builders!
Sale ends Feb. 4th!
Click the link to view individual wools up close!
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/plaids--textures.html

And more all over the store!!!!! We are drowning in wool,
but what a way to go!!!!

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Hot Water Bottles......a thing of the past?

1/30/2014

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Am I showing my age? Are hot water bottles passé? A descendent of the bed pan that used hot coals, the innovative hot water bottle was more convenient and less risky to warm a bed.   A half century ago and beyond, houses were colder and draftier and ice formed on windows panes from the beginning to the end of winter. I was told some dude called Jack Frost went around painting windows with special ice paint. He was a master at his craft, creating willowy, wintery scenes that mesmerized me.

During my early childhood, the house we rented was very cold.   I don’ t think insulation was a concern, if it was even invented, when it was built. The windows were always adorned with ice, sometimes on the inside. I used to play games melting areas with my fingers and breath. Seriously, I don’t remember being able to look out of the bedroom windows until the spring thaw. Those were tougher times but you grew a thicker skin, wore flannel and used a hot water bottle!

Frosted windows are almost a thing of the past. Vinyl Inserts with their thermal panes don't allow for wintery art. We scrape a bit of frost off our car windows but the artwork isn't as detailed or magnificent.  As global temperatures warm,  there is little left of this dying art-form forcing poor Jack farther north to find work.

The Hot Water bottle was invented in 1903 but by the late 20th century, their use had markedly declined around most of the world. Today with in floor heating toasting our tootsies and electric blankets preheating the bed like an oven, why do we need a rubber bottle filled with hot water?

Hot Water Bottle, is this even a term the younger generation would know of? Would it be like explaining who is Elvis or Marilyn Monroe? Do any of you still use a "Hottie" as they are sometimes referred too or is this a trip down memory lane?

I use my bottle when the temperatures dip. The weather dictates how chilly the floors become and anything past -8, I reach for my rubber friend. I just realized how weird that sounds....anyway….. The dogs snuggle along my frame radiating warmth through the covers for my legs, but my digits need help. If I go to bed with cold toes, I wake with cold toes, and the chill of them keep me awake as I continually rub them on the mattress to create friction heat.

My Hot Water Bottle is special.  They only last so long before the rubber dries out and cracks so every five years or so I buy a new one. This last one had a glorious faux fur cover, just like the one in the picture. Soft and luxurious to touch, like having a warm animal under your feet.   So much nicer than the feel of rubber on your skin. Which reminds me of this tidbit. In the 18th century, upper class ladies of the house tended to prefer small dogs so breeders obliged by breeding increasingly smaller poodles, which led to the development of the toy poodle and its even more diminutive counterparts. Toy Poodles found their niche as the perfect lapdog and fashion accessory. According to The Official Poodle Guide, toy poodles were known at one time as “hand dogs” because wealthy women liked to tote the little dogs around to keep their hands warm on cold nights.

Boy we were bombarded with snow again yesterday! I got dumped on this time. Without any wind to blow it around in drifts it came straight down all over the yard so the first thing I had to do, when I got home from work, was shovel. Paths to the car, and paths to the dog outhouse, which is anywhere in the yard that smells just right, a different spot each time so I covered both sides of the house and a little beyond. Of course it wouldn’t matter how much I shoveled for Henri. He’ll charge for the deep areas every time and roll around in it, rubbing his face.   He’s white so it doesn’t show but he comes in the house soaked every time. The rest of them are more civilized and keep to the stripped areas.

Thankfully the downfall was light and fluffy as I am getting too old to be out there pushing tons of snow. It’s man’s work no matter how you look at it. By the time I came back into the warmth of the house, all ten fingers were red and numb. I could have snapped one off and wouldn’t have felt it. Those fingers are needed to hold up a delicate china teacup, not be wrestling a big ole awkward shovel that looks like it was made for Goliath. And what’s up with that stupid ergonomic handle that doesn’t work for my height or my back, it makes me bend over more! What's the point? The shovel part is so bloody huge, barely filled with snow I can hardly lift it, so I end up pushing snow around, not actually shoveling it.   It should be called a snow pusher, not a shovel. I’d like something girly sized, maybe pink and virtually weightless. Then I wouldn’t have anything to complain about…..

Oh, and one last thing. Thank you to the woman who stole a pattern from my racks! If you think I didn't notice that it was you, you'd be wrong. I'd been in the room just before you entered and all was fine, and then I noticed a pattern was gone after you left. I can add 2 + 2. I only wish I had caught you in the act...now we have remote cameras so come back and try it again.....and then we'll tango!

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Plaids and more plaids!

1/29/2014

Click the link to view our new textures and plaids:
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/plaids--textures.html

What a crazy day at the shop yesterday. Busy, busy, with the phone ringing and people dropping by. We have another new employee and she spent the day working on patterns and then she cut yardage for the shelves from the new shipment of plaids and textures. 12 new bolts (180 yards) of the best wool imaginable. Soft enough to wrap a baby in! Beautiful blues and a scrumptious lighter yellow, a colour rarely found.   One customer hauled off 12 yards of a mixed selection, it’s hot stuff baby!

There’s also a fun ivory with gold sparkles, they are very light as is, but when you over-dye the wool with darker colours the sparkles really shine. It would be great for festive rugs or angels and mermaids. A bit of jazz for skies and water. Name a time when a bit of sparkle wouldn't work!

Our linen order arrived and another roll of natural so Shane has been burning the midnight oil dyeing wool. I’m busy putting out a few new designs in between chatting with customers.   Once again, we bent over backwards by dyeing wool on the spot, not just a colour from the rack but custom dyeing to fit a lady’s project. We do that if we can, we like to please!

Another customer wanted a mermaid pattern and I showed her what was available and she opted for a design I just discovered that morning in the filing cabinet that hadn’t been made up since the first one sold. The poor thing was filed away and forgotten! She went out for lunch and Nancy and I teamed up to get it done as quickly as possible. It’s called "PEARL". A reading mermaid sitting in a large shell that rests on an octopus, with tentacles holding up a lamp and morning cup of coffee.    I wonder what else is in that filing cabinet that’s forgotten….it might be worth a check.

I got the word I wasn’t chosen as the vendor for the NS Guild rug school in May.  I was the first to show interest but they waited and when others applied they put all our names in a hat and drew one. There was only room for one vendor.   I had big plans to take a a lot of product to make it one of the best shopping experiences for the students, because in the past few years there hasn't been a lot of selection, or so I'm told by my customers.  I was always one of the biggest shops to go to school, if not the biggest. We didn’t take the job lightly, if you go you take enough to make it worth your while, there was no saying, "sorry I didn’t bring that!" My entire shop would be in a U-Haul and we’d hit the road. It’s all or nothing for me! We’d prepare for months and take a ton of stuff and usually I would design lots of new patterns to show. Because the school is so close this year I might run a series of specials that week as lots of hookers will flock to this area to visit the school, check out the rug displays and see the student’s projects.

Below, "THE FLOCK" is the new PATTERN OF THE WEEK. If you order it while it's featured we pay the shipping!

PEARL

THE FLOCK

To view these new designs on the website, click the link:
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/new-designs.html

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Monday, Monday, not so good to me......

1/28/2014

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Or just crazy?

Have you ever had one of those days when you should have just stayed in bed with the covers pulled over your head? Days that make you wonder if someone or something is out to get you? All that bragging the other day about the universe smiling down on me, treating me with a bit of special favour must have pissed off the powers that be, because today felt like pay back. Maybe I was getting a little too cocky and needed knocking off my perch.

Usually, I live a charmed life. I don’t need to get up super early, 8:30 is more than enough time to feed four pups, do their bathroom stuff, feed myself and shower. I only have to saunter into work at 10:30, a very civilized time. Some mornings I even snooze the alarm to a risky 9:00. It’s a bit more hectic and rushed but it gives me that extra ½ sleep that’s usually needed after a night of insomnia.

This morning was a break in the routine. I set the alarm for 6:45 to be on the road by 8:00 to get the pups to the groomers by 8:30. It’s only once a month so I bite the bullet but I’m not a happy camper. Grooming four dogs is an all-day process with a pickup of 4:30 so the earlier I get there the better. The groomer asks for 7:30, but I tell him that’s impossible, I couldn’t handle the stress of getting there on time. Sure enough, this morning I was so tired I fell back to sleep and only woke at 7:30 with just enough time to feed my babies, take them out for their morning abolition, throw on some makeup and lipstick and then hit the highway, with a hat over my greasy hair and still wearing my jammy top under my coat.

All goes well. The dogs are delivered for a day at the spa and I’m back home getting breakfast and a shower. It's still early so I'm ahead of the game and I’m feeling spot on, knowing I have three new designs to post on the website and Michelle, a new gal is coming in for training. It’s going to be a great day! Now with two gals to help with the patterns that leaves me time for designing and that’s what I like! I’m thinking life is good and I’m feeling spry, bursting with energy, excited for the day to begin.

I’m slathering on the hand cream, the last bit of prep before heading out the door and then I reach for my rings. One, two three, all accounted for but where is number four? The ring that sits between my solitaire and my wedding band is missing. I’ve been keeping them on the lower shelf of the cupboard where the glassware is kept. I’m a creature of habit; take them off as soon as I walk in the door. I don’t like wearing them when my hands are in water etc, so they are off of my fingers when I’m home. I don’t vary or sway from the norm….I’m as good as clockwork in my habits.

One ring is missing. And it’s not just any ring. It’s one I had custom made with diamonds that match my solitaire that hubby gave me after the house cleaner stole my Diamonelle, a simulated diamond exclusive to the Shopping Channel, something I’ve ranted about in a previous blog.   The ring was new in December, not even old enough to be scratched so the frantic search begins. I take everything out of the cupboard several times, no ring. So I scour the counter, behind the Keurig and in and around the container of utensils. I’m looking in the drawer that holds all the household junk, the dumping ground we all for the small things you hate to throw out but never really use. I’m now searching the island counter, moving and checking under things, I'm frazzled and panicked.....and then a thought hits me.

Henri! My cream miniature poodle! Saturday evening I was on the sofa snuggled with three of my pups and Henri was prowling around per the usual sniffing every nook and cranny for some excitement. He came over and lay beside the sofa and I heard a little clink, like metal hitting the floor. I looked over the arm and he was sprawled out on the floor and his jaw was moving. I asked him what he had and normally he will drop whatever it is but this time he didn’t. I touched him on his mouth and he swallowed, I put my finger in there and found nothing. Whatever it was, was now gone. I start assuming…probably a blueberry, a piece of dried chicken, something edible foraged from their dishes. I didn’t give it a second thought…until now.

He’s never been one to chew but last week he totally destroyed a sterling silver hoop earring that must have fallen off while I napped on the sofa. By the time I noticed what he was doing he’d completely demolished it. And then he chewed the stop off the zipper of my new winter boots, they still work but I can only raise the zipper an inch below the top of the boot.   So because things seem to happen to me in threes, it wasn’t unreasonable to think that my ring had somehow fallen to the floor, he’d found it and worked his magic. At this point I don’t think he’s swallowed it, it had to be somewhere on the floor. I got down on my hands and knees with a flashlight, figuring if it was good enough for CSI, good enough for me. I thought the light would pick up the glitter of the diamonds easily. I covered every square inch of the downstairs floors. Nothing!   Well, actually, I found lots of things that remind me I have to vacuum but nothing gold. Then I start thinking that maybe he did swallow it and when it happened and how many poops he’s had since. I grabbed a paring knife and hit the yard, thankfully all the turds were still where they were dropped as I only do a poop scoop once a week.

So I’m out in the cold slicing and dicing frozen turds and not just Henri’s, I figured Jake might have been an accomplice. Heck, while I was there I figured I might as well do them all. Leave no stone unturned so to speak.   The entire yard is now full of fileted crap but I didn't find the ring and I had to laugh in spite of my angst, things could always be worse, I could have a pet elephant......

So I call the groomer, thinking it might be still inside Henri and I tell Bob to save any business for me to inspect. I figured it would pass easily, the diamonds are low making the ring round and smooth. So if the ring was in my boy, it was now a waiting game.

I didn't want to put all my eggs in one colon without proof so I continue searching the house, and now I’m dragging out the stove and the fridge. If Henri found the ring and dropped it on the floor it may have rolled under something; scenario after scenario flashed to mind. I won’t describe the horror story under the appliances but it’s time for a clean.

So far I haven’t mentioned the fool I made of myself at work. Whipped into a froth, I drove to the shop at 10:45 because the new girl was supposed to come in and I needed to set her up with jobs to do. I wasn’t fit to be seen nor should I have allowed anyone to be subjected to my mood. I was almost losing my mind as the dollar value of that ring tortured me and all I wanted to do was search for it.   I blew in and then left leaving a trail of negative energy that could have singed the wool. Poor sweet Nancy!   I heard her exclaim as I slammed out the door, “I hope you find your ring.” I’m not good at hiding my feelings, wearing them on my sleeve for all the world to see! If I’m slightly upset I can manage it, but when I’m in full blown, out of my mind frenzy, there’s no smoothing it over with a smile. It's a learned behavior from my father who when angry with himself for doing something stupid, went fifty rounds on himself. I did apologize for my actions while I was still in the middle of them, hopefully she'll judge me on my daily, normal behavior, not the Mrs. Hyde transformation of the morning.

So I come back home and continued my search. I needed to vent so decided to phone hubby who is away right now working and pass on the bad energy, make his morning as miserable as the one I’m having. I think I said something to the fact that it was his fault for teaching Henri to chew things. The guy never touched a thing until daddy gave him a few egg cartons to ravage. All really cute that first time, but now a learned behavior that leaves the downstairs covered in centimeter sized bits of paper from one end of the house to the other.   Anyway, by now I’m whipped up like cream and I’m half crying. Stupid ring! Why do we have nice things if the potential to loose them can send you over the edge. Where was the bloody universe when you need it? Why was I being forsaken?

So I tear apart the counter again, the drawer, check my jean pockets, the bed upstairs in case Henri had puked it up during the night.   I refused to call the Vet, I couldn’t be 100% positive that it was swallowed so I’m trying the free solutions first. No sense rushing that gate until I’m certain. I’m flying around the house like a mad woman, sweating bullets until I can’t stand the material of the shirt touching my skin, so I rip it off so my pores can breathe, knowing full well this little trip over the edge is going to wreak havoc on my thinning hair, probably speed up the loss so I’m bald by Friday. So much for eliminating stress, it’s now eating me alive!

Then, through the madness a thought hit me. I keep an ivy plant on the stove top. When I use more than one burner I move the plant to the counter as not to scorch the leaves. I’d done that the night before and now it was back on the stove so I hadn’t given it a thought. I remember taking two pens off the shelf and throwing them in the drawer below it, what if I accidentally knocked the ring into the plant when it was on the counter? Could it be that simple? I held my breath as I parted the leaves. There it was, shining up at me as if to say, it’s about time, why did you leave me here in the dirt?

Relief flooded me and I started to cry. Stupid ring. Stupid bloody ring! Stupid me! It was like finding your missing child in the mall, torn between hugging them for being safe, and shaking them for wandering off. The ring being an inanimate object this incident was clearly my fault, my carelessness landed it in the pot, I only had myself to blame so I wouldn't hold a grudge. I snatched it up and slipped it on my finger where it belongs.   It never shined more brightly!

Now it was noon, all the morning wasted and I was just about done for the day. All that crawling around and stress wiped me out. So now I have to call Bob, the groomer, to let him know he doesn’t have to collect dog poop….and called hubby to let him know the crisis was over and I'm sorry for being a jerk. Once again I’m sure he’s not impressed, per the usual after one of my fits.   If only I could be like Carol, the mom on the Brady Bunch, calm and cool like a cucumber. Using a gentle, loving voice even when her buttons were pushed....not a hair out of place or a furrowed brow in sight. In my defense my life isn't scripted but why do I have to go over the top and explode like a volcano? So I’ll lie dormant for awhile, maybe a year will go by before the next crisis and eruption when more molten sweat and tears will spew out of Mount St. Chrissy, burning the roots of my remaining hair.

Mount St. Chrissy

This is what's left of my sterling earring after Henri got a hold of it. Someday it'll be melted down and repurposed. But boo hoo for now!

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A few new designs!

1/27/2014

I had a very satisfying day in the shop on Saturday. I spent the time productively, designing new Christmas Stocking patterns and finished up Just Laid that I had been working on. It was a quiet day, the weather was lousy so there were few people on the street. Only one customer dropped in from the city to pick up some dyed wool and after she left I cranked up the stereo and belted out my favourite tunes.   The girls don't work on Saturday and although Shane usually comes in, he didn't show up until middle afternoon so I had the stage...I mean place, all to myself.

I like being in the shop alone. No distractions or questions....and that doesn't mean customers...I love you dropping by, come in anytime....but when it's just me manning the place, my mind can wonder freely and pluck inspiration from the air without having to be grounded by playing boss.

So I whipped up a couple of new stockings. I've wanted to do a Peacock for some time but knew that this design would pose a lot of thought, trial and error with lots of erasing and I was right. Placement of all the feathers was critical so I played with cut out pieces until I had the plan down. A Peacock's tail is actually conducive to the stocking shape, so the splendid plumage cascades down to the tip of the toe. This one will definitely be on my hooking list!

The Snowflakes Stocking have also been on my mind since the real snow starting flying in December. I can see this one hooked so clearly doing the actual work will just be a formality. This one excites me because it will be mostly monochromatic, with icy shades of pale blues and greys with the white.   On the top of this one I plan to hook slub and curly mohair for a cuff of fake fur. I won't be able to get to this one fast enough.....if only I could mind hook, dream about it at night and like the cobbler and the elves, wake in the morning to the finished rug.   The stockings can be viewed on my Seasonal Designs page. http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/seasonal-designs.html

I'm also working on one with tree ornaments. I saw something similar on a napkin over the holidays and thought, wow, that would make a great rug so I started it as well. Ornaments can be magical and provide a chance to play with a full range of beautiful and festive colours. With these three new stocking patterns that pushes the total to 27, only 23 more designs to go to reach the 50 mark! I think I'll create a bunch now while the weather continues to inspire the theme, because it might not be so exciting in the humidity of summer.

I also completed "Just Laid" a pattern that's been on the drawing desk for some time. Barely off the desk and I sold a copy. Sue grabbed it up and is planning on hooking it next. Gotta love that! A new design that will have a picture in a week or so. For those who think the cigarette is tacky don't hook it, but the playful side of me thinks it's darling so I hope Sue keeps it in.   24" x 35 1/2" and can be viewed on my new designs page:
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/new-designs.html

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Pattern of the Month Club & Contest

1/25/2014

Still time to join the exciting
PATTERN OF THE MONTH CLUB & CONTEST

Click the link below or information on how it works and the prizes to be awarded!
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/contests.html

To be awarded monthly and then a Grand Prize at the end of the year!!!!!

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Celtic Christmas Stocking finished!

1/24/2014

Here is Celtic Christmas Stocking finished. I didn't get home until 9:00 last evening so I stayed up until 2:00 a.m. hooking. That meant I didn't write a blog....priorities eh? I got so caught up in the thrill of reaching the finish line all else fell by the wayside! I will say, this picture does not do these colours justice....it's a gem of a stocking!

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Celtic Christmas Stocking

1/23/2014

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I bent over today and had a look in the mirror, certain I’d see a horseshoe sticking out. We had a blizzard. A wind pounding, snow blinding blizzard that spit out about 30 cm of white powder, covering the community with a blanket of white. I got up early in anticipation of an hour of shoveling but I couldn’t believe my eyes. I didn’t have to lift a finger to move one inch of snow in the yard. The back steps were swept clean, not a flake, the back yard had crushed rock showing through so the dogs had ground to do their business and the car was blown free of every last ice crystal. So I’m feeling pretty good today considering the universe is smiling down on me!   As I drove into town I looked around at the less fortunate, doing back breaking, hard labour with shovels, shifting snow from one place to another, and snow blowers sending large curves of white into the air.   Tsk tsk….how others suffer.

So yesterday, I said screw the housework and hooked. Once the decision was made the pain went away. No darn wonder my hair is falling out if I stress over decisions between housework or hooking!   So I closed my eyes and my mind to the dishes and the dirty laundry that will live to be done another day and went about pulling loops and watching some of the taped movies on the DVR. The wind was howling outside but inside the fire was crackling and the warmth was divine so I hooked all day and all evening, right up until bedtime and went right to sleep, literally, as soon as my head hit the pillow.

So this is what I did on the Celtic Christmas Stocking. I’m using bright colours instead of traditional Christmas colours. I try to do each stocking with a different palette and for this one I didn’t need to do red so why use it? I love these colours! This is a stocking for someone living in a tropical paradise or for the person that likes fun brights.   Hooked mostly in #6 cut with a #5 for the smaller celtic knot inside the tree.

The blue is from our Royal Blue bundle, Turquoise bundle and 3 value Lime green. The background is called Paradise and is a combination of the blue and the lime applied very lightly for a custom match. This piece was very simple to plan by reusing the same colours over and over. At first I considered adding one more colour to the mix for the tree topper but then just kept it simple with the blue and the turquoise. This is also the first stocking I've put an outside border on...just because. All in all I am pleased and hope to finish it tonight.

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Today, my world is a snow globe.....

1/22/2014

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Well, here I sit with winter brewing another cup of demon liquor. There’s a blizzard building momentum and by evening there should be a predicted 30 cm covering the ground. In my little piece of the planet, that assures four feet high drifts in the most inconvenient places. I live by the sea and the winds whisk the snow into sculptured waves in various areas around the house, a stark contrast to other spots of wind swept, bare ground. Today I feel like I’m inside a snow globe as Mother Nature shakes the clouds, sending flakes of silvery white to the ground.

The storm is pretty spectacular really and beautiful from a window seat while sipping a freshly brewed coffee, but not so much an outdoor kind of day.   It would be nice to feel content, but through the serenity of being in this Currier and Ives painting, I’m feeling annoyed, begrudging this forced day off. I have a list of things to complete with a deadline of the end of this month. I’ve set goals and now there’s only a week remaining so I can’t afford to lounge around in jammies all day and play.

Play…..that’s a poor choice of words…who am I kidding? There is no play for the woman of the house when the dishes are piling up and the laundry is even higher. Being forced to stay home today is bringing on guilt. I have a system that’s been interrupted. I leave the house in the morning and lock the door on the mess; out of sight, out of mind all the day long. By the time I get home at night I’m too tired to care and usually go for a short nap. Then I make dinner, write a blog, watch a show or two and then it’s time for bed. So I skip over the chore duty smoothly, I'm busy so no guilt.  But there’s no escape from this Alcatraz today! I’m bound here and the mess is bullying me into feeling badly.  I’m foiled! I can’t ignore chores when I have to wallow in the mess.   Damn you storm, now there’s laundry and dishes and maybe despised vacuuming calling on me.   It’s no secret I’m not a fan of housework, it serves little purpose in my life as there are greater things of importance. I’m determined that my tombstone won’t read, “She kept a tidy house”, I want it to read, “She created beautiful things everyday!”

But….luckily, there’s no one here to chastise my laziness….so maybe I’ll suppress the inner, irritating, domestic voice and play hooky from both work and house. Maybe I’ll just hook. I have a project I’m working on so why not just spend the day having fun. It sucks being an adult and all the rules that ensue and way too many responsibilities. Maybe for today I’ll pretend I’m a teenager with fewer concerns like zits and school work.

Ironically, I’ve got the zit part in the bag, another side effect of menopause. The red and pulsating aftermath from partaking in a rather delightful Zucchini cake brought into the shop by Nancy, our new employee. After tasting a few of her wares I must say she’s an exceptional baker. Her Chocolate Brownies were the best I’ve eaten, so sinful you need to pray to the Diabetes God to spare you.   I had to warn her though, I like seafood….if I see it, I eat it. I’ve got the willpower of a cadaver. So if she treats Shane to her homemade goodies it has to be on the sly, not a whiff or a crumb to tempt me, kept away like kryptonite from superman. We both grow weak and lose all powers when exposed.

From that momentary lapse in judgement, I was punished with a colossal zit on my chin, which I might add didn’t need further extenuating. I’m no Leno but there’s a possibility I’m a distance cousin. Nancy drizzled a lemon glaze over the cake and once that hit my taste buds wham….I was a goner. Anything that boasts a hint of lemon is lethal. Within two days I devoured all eight hunks, thank the stars she didn’t bring the entire pan or I might be writing my own obituary today, in preparation for that boney finger rapping on the door.

The fact that eating refined sugar can manifest itself with acne has always annoyed me. A dermatologist once told me that it’s impossible to get problematic skin from food. Bullcrap to that! This was about 20 years ago so maybe they’ve caught up with reality now. Back when I was suffering with Environmental Sickness, I argued with him for years if I ate sugar I got rewarded the next day with a breakout. He wouldn’t believe me and told me it was hormonal.   Sure blame everything on hormones, the easy out when they can’t explain why it happens, just take this drug and live with it. For my case, no one could convince me otherwise and now it’s back with a vengeance. Since the onset of menopause, whatever my body is doing or not doing, if I eat refined sugar I get a zit, like clockwork, 12-24 hours later.

So when my skin is clear that’s the reward for abstinence. When you see a little something, I’ve been naughty. I can’t lie, the zit is my Pinocchio’s nose, the more I sneak, the bigger it gets. When a lone pimple reaches its pinnacle, then it separates into two or three with equal ferocity.   I’m weak, I break down every now and then because everything that tastes good is temptation and I’ve got a bit of Eve in me. Sweets are like a drug, the yummmmm factor makes you feel good as the heavenly delight passes over your tongue. But, you don’t feel so good after you eat it, the worry sets in and the guilt for being corruptible and knowing the dreaded zit is on its way makes you entertain the idea of Bulimia but that’s a whole other bag of crazy that I don’t plan to practice.

And that brings me back to the weather. Sugar and snow are both bad for us. They are both pretty but deadly. Snow causes car accidents and sugar causes illness. It’s white death from both! During a snowstorm I look out of the window and think of the unfortunate people who will get into accidents, maybe I should apply that philosophy to sugar. The older I get the less I find comfort in food so I am able to sustain longer periods without being seduced by the memory of those comfort foods. Because that’s what it is for me. Memories of my mother and her fabulous pastries and baked goods. Yummmmmmmmmmm!   Only certain foods tempt me and they can all be traced back to my childhood.

So I’m in for the day with a big crackling fire in the stove. There’s good and bad waging war in my brain. Housework or hooking?   There are a couple of movies taped on the DVR, the dogs are fed, played with and are now napping at my feet while I write. There’s a comfort in the air that begs for relaxing. One of my new Christmas stocking designs is on my frame and I’m swaying toward fun for the afternoon. As long as the snow keeps winter in business, I’ll work on the stocking patterns and put them away in the spring. Snow on the ground reminds me of the holidays so hooking Christmas flavoured designs seems fitting. My goal for this year is to have 50 stocking patterns available for next season. I’m at the 24 mark now, so it’s not an unrealistic ambition. Considering they are only three day projects I hope to hook a bunch as well.

I’m no clairvoyant, but I predict I’ll be holding a shovel sometime today……the winds are bitter at -12, face freezing weather, so I won’t be going out until there’s a lull. And….once things calm down I’m going to make that snow angel!

To Charlene who is currently in Florida…..enjoy sista!

4 Comments

The past captured on paper......

1/21/2014

Her name was Mabel and her eyes are very sad.

You would think sifting through a box of photographs would be a snap…pardon the pun. I’ve been trying to isolate photos of a friend’s wedding but over the years nothing is in its original folder, they've spilled out and mixed like a shuffled decks of cards. It’s slow picking, because each photo has to be mulled over, reminiscing back to the time and place it began.

A week before Christmas I ran into an old friend at the Kiwi Café in Chester. We'd dropped off the furry kids at the groomers and hubby and I always stop in for breakfast on the way home. I love the Kiwi Breakfast Burrito, full of goodness with egg, avocado and salsa, with a side order of crisp bacon. We had just finished our meal and were lingering over a second cup of coffee delaying going back out in the cold, when a woman walked in with an air of familiarity. I heard her voice as she spoke to the waitress and confirmed that it was Donna, a chum from my former life, back in my early twenties. I was mentioning her to hubby and before I could say hello she recognized me and said hi. I invited her to the table and we caught up on the decades since we'd drifted apart.  A lot has happened in both of our lives, but it seemed comfortable and familiar like we had seen each other only yesterday. I mentioned I had looked at a few of their wedding pictures while rummaging through my photo box just a short while ago and she asked if I would mind giving them to her. I said I would gather them together and let her know when they were ready. That should be a simple task right?

Well that was weeks ago and short of any real excuse, all I can say is this trip down memory lane has many detours.   Every picture tells a story and I find myself lingering over each one as the hours melt away. I’ve been working at digging out her wedding photos on three separate occasions and each time I get trapped in memory ville and can’t seem to break away.

Each picture needs to be examined thoroughly with my eyes and my thoughts. How I felt at that moment, the relationship of the subjects, what was the occasion that was noteworthy enough to want to freeze the image on a piece of paper. Sometimes the memories don’t come easy, there's gentle prodding of the grey cells to remember the occasion. So many of them, hundreds of pictures to organize, so many moments to explore.

While handling the photos, a realization struck me, how great it is to hold the image in my hands, have something tangible when today all we do is download them to a computer or phone and view them on a screen where they are pretty much forgotten quickly. We take so many pictures now they no longer hold the value like photographs of yesteryear. Shots of every mundane moment, hundreds of one action. Digital photography is only for the now, pictures are taken, looked at and then are buried in files. I wonder, will the relatives of tomorrow sit at a computer and rummage through our photos of today? Probably not. For starters, technology will continue to advance and the systems available now will be obsolete. Unless our photos are printed on paper there will be no lasting image to prove we were once here, we will be a name only to our descendents.   God forbid a virus attacks and deletes all our memories, we’d have nothing to document our existence and be as little as one generation away from being forgotten.

I love looking at the photographs of distant relatives. I don’t know who they are and there is no one left to identify them. Some have pencil scribbles on the back with just a first name or a date but that means nothing to me. Some of the faces staring at the camera look pretty scary, probably conditioning from living difficult lives and no modern convenience to soften the chores of everyday life. Farmers and lumberjacks and the occasional fisherman, hard labour jobs that weather the face and hands and toughen the constitution.

Women have stern faces and piercing eyes, probably weary from rearing many children and then maintaining their needs. Waking before dawn to begin the daily process of food preparation, washing and household duties. Working in the bitter cold until the morning fire warms the hearth, kneading bread and tending to babies.   I pause at these pictures and make up little stories about their lives, wonder if there was happiness in their marriages, if there was kindness. It’s difficult to tell by their expressions, their lack of contact, the man standing behind the seated woman somehow seems cold but sometimes there is touching, his hand on her shoulder, giving hope there was some intimacy other then procreation. The turn of the century photographer had his work cut out for him. Smiles must have been frowned upon. No smiling babies either, just bisque skinned dolls with coloured in rosy cheeks, eyes staring off into the distance. So I’m curious, why no smiles and this is what I found when I Googled it.

First off, it has been dismissed that people of old refused to smile because their teeth were rotting. It wasn’t that people didn’t have bad teeth, as dental hygiene really was awful, but rather that bad teeth were so common that seeing them did not take away from a person’s attractiveness at the time. One of the main reasons people didn’t smile was how it was perceived centuries ago. Although nowadays we think of smiles as being indicative of happiness, humor, and warmth, they apparently had a very different meaning back in the day. By the 17th century in Europe it was a well-established fact that the only people who smiled broadly, in life and in art, were the poor, the lewd, the drunk, the innocent, and the entertainment. So to be perceived as upper class and as a person of good character they didn’t smile. For this reason, both the creators and the sitters of portraits had good reason to keep the smiles out of the resulting images, which explains why we don’t see photos of famous figures donning a grin in their official portraits. For instance, Abraham Lincoln, although known for his humorous personality during his time, is now remembered more by the extremely serious expressions he chose to wear during official portrait sessions.

Mark Twain was quite a funny guy as well, but he hardly let any of that show in his portrait photographs. He wrote: “A photograph is a most important document, and there is nothing more damning to go down to posterity than a silly, foolish smile caught and fixed forever.”

A married couple from my family tree. She's none too happy or maybe her hair is too tight!

1 Comment

Demon driver on the loose!

1/20/2014

The other day I had a hairy experience on the stretch of highway between Lunenburg and Mahone Bay.

I was coming home after an eye exam when a thought struck me for a new design. Inspiration is like an open tap, it keeps flowing. Some ideas are just fillers that are easily forgotten, but some are hot as molten lava and need immediate recording. So I pulled into the Black Forrest Restaurant parking lot to make a couple of notes on my phone.

It was raining pretty hard and the wipers were on high so the conditions were slippery and warranted caution. I put on my signal, rolled the car ahead a bit to get close enough to pull out on the highway, stopped and looked out of my driver’s side window for approaching cars. There was one close enough for me to wait my turn and after it went by I looked again and saw vehicle lights but they were a distance away.   So I pulled out but respectfully floored it so the approaching driver didn’t have to slow down if he caught up with me as there is nothing more annoying than drivers who creep out onto a road and then take forever to get up to speed.   When I looked in my rear view mirror, I was horrified to see a purple box truck bearing down on me at high speed.

We were quickly approaching a very sharp 30 km. turn to the right. It’s always been a hairy corner to maneuver, especially in winter conditions or torrential downpours. The turn is so blind it should have a white cane on the sign. That corner has always made me nervous, mostly because of the deer population along this road. If you don’t see at least a dozen deer on either leg of the trip, you aren’t looking out the window! Taking a sharp corner blind you always wonder what might be standing in the road, or worry there might be a speeder taking the corner too wide because there’s no place to go but the ditch. Hubby and I hit a deer one night, luckily not a serious accident but traumatic all the same and it comes flooding back every time I’m on that road.

So I am only about 10 yards from making the turn when this box truck that had to be traveling at upwards of 100 km, was now on my rear bumper. I could see its massive structure in my rear view mirror and wondered it would ram my car like you see in the movies. At the last second, the truck whipped out and passed me. We were so close to the turn he couldn’t get back to the right side of the road because my car was in the way, so he took the turn on the left lane, straight into oncoming traffic if there were any vehicles heading towards us. There was no way he could tell if a car was coming or not so he was gambling…..car or no car, a 50/50 chance. Not great odds. Horrified, I'd slammed on my breaks to avoid being part of a crash.

The box truck successfully made the turn and sped out of sight. I was shaken. Then my blood began to boil. Sure I know thinking about “what if” can make you crazy but really, the luck of not a single car on that well-traveled patch of road was mind boggling!   It was everyone's lucky day who traveled on that road shortly before and after. Like the country song says, "Timing Is Everything".

A regular sized car would not have fared well in a head on collision if the driver didn't have a heart attack as that big purple menace came straight at them. The truck driver probably wouldn’t have survived either but we won’t worry about him. That’s one of those cases where saying a person who died is a loss, might be premature. Maybe it was someone society could afford to lose because he was either an idiot or insane. Playing Russian roulette with other people’s lives is an unfair game. If you want to play with fire, go home, load a gun and shoot yourself....if you miss, reload and try again until you succeed…DON'T drag innocent people down with you!

I stepped on the accelerator to catch up to the truck to read the license plate number. I could barely keep up but got close enough to see there was no plate, just a truck ID and the company name. According to my speedometer, the truck was going 100 km and I was nervous, so I reduced back to 70 and when we hit Mahone Bay boundary the truck slowed to 50 km so I was able to keep him in sight. He drove into the back of the bank parking lot and I think he was some sort of courier or a Brink’s like vehicle.

When I got back to the shop I was still shaking and phoned the RCMP; told the story and gave them a description of the vehicle. A part of me felt badly getting someone in trouble, it’s not my nature to stir a pot, but this person really shouldn’t be allowed on the road. If they have so little concern for the safety of others the powers that be should strip their license. The officer told me I did the right thing, took my information and said they would check it out. I don’t know what came from it but I sure hope it was addressed.

0 Comments

Someone asked, why do I waste my time blogging?

1/17/2014

9 Comments

Someone asked me the other day why I waste so much time blogging. It was one of the odd times when the cat seized my tongue and I was at a loss for words. I did take a small offense at the word "waste", I'm sure there are better words in the English language to use, but then again maybe to them, they called it like they saw it.  It's perfectly legit to have opinions, like arseholes, we all have them.

So I've reworded the question to be, "Christine, why do you blog so much?" Kinder and maybe worthy of an answer?    I will admit I began blogging as a way to promote my website but realized quickly that it brought me a great deal of satisfaction so much so that I preferred writing over hooking for awhile. Then it became a daily routine like a morning shower or Corrie in the evening.

First of all, in blog defense, I don't spend that much time writing. The more you practice any craft, the faster you become, so what used to take hours to do can now be knocked off in a fraction of the time. So lets dispel the rumour that I spend a lot of time at this. I don't go home at night and slave over the computer writing like an addict looking for a high.  I type like the wind, my fingers fly over the keys so I can pull off a lot more words than a one finger wonder.   Not exactly laborious.

So why do I do it? Well, I'm an entertainer at heart. I've always been the class clown and the jokester in the crowd. Wind me up a party and I go off like a female version of Jim Carey, telling stories, acting out and making faces, which I might add, I do when I write.

I've never been too tired to blog, or felt like it was a chore, good reasons to keep up the momentum, but I do find some days too busy to even post the story I've written the night before or if I didn't get to it, no time to come up with something on the fly in the morning. I'm not Catholic, but I feel guilty when that happens, knowing people are signing on and there's nothing to see. In the year plus I've been doing it I haven't missed many days, once or twice due to illness and the odd time because the shop was crazy busy, like today......

Somewhere in the back of my mind I like to think I'm leaving a word legacy, something to remain after I'm gone.  Maybe someday my son will feel sentimental and dig around in the archives for my words. He’ll read my thoughts and reminisce and connect with me as a person, not as his mother. It will be like looking through a photo album but instead of faces and scenes he’ll form pictures in his head from my thoughts, hear my voice as his eyes pass over my words. I can see him shake his head at times and wonder what I was thinking but hopefully overall, feel a comfort through the loss of my physical self.

Blogging is a bit like writing in a diary, with the difference that it is directed outward instead of inward.   I suppose like all things this will run its course and you'll tire of me, and then I'll hang up my blog coat and maybe put all writing efforts into a book or two, but for now I'm having fun, sharing tales about rug hooking and sometimes venting the steam pipe or beating myself up in a loving way.

I sometimes wonder how far my words travel. The internet has so many tentacles, reaching out to the four corners of the earth. I've received emails and comments from all over the globe and let me tell you, that's one hell of a thrill. A comment is like a present, there's excitement to find one, anticipation before you open it, and a smile when you do. I wonder sometimes if I've inspired or insulted, what emotions my thoughts provoke. When I write I ponder if I’ve gone to far or stopped too short, but so far, knock on wood, it's been a positive experience.

The other day the phone rang and a woman, a virtual stranger to me, but who knew me through my words, called in regards to my story on hair loss, wishing to share her experience and results with certain treatments. We share the same age and the same woes, same mid life angsts. I quickly noted how our lives ran parallel. We chatted for a half hour, a condensed introduction, but parted on a familiar note and now because of words, I've met a new hooking friend. She said she casually reads several blogs but mine regularly, and that her hooking group follows me as well. They all live in Texas, a place I’ve never been but my thoughts are world travelers.   I hung up the phone and smiled for the rest of the day, touched that I shared a connection with someone through my words.

Sometimes I get a little weirded out by some of the people who follow my stories, men especially. I wonder why they are interested in what I have to say if they don't hook. Momentarily, a flush of red passes over my cheeks knowing I’ve mentioned some fairly personal topics. When I first realized the broadness of my audience, I worried it would influence what I wrote, but I chewed on that a bit and decided to stay the course and continue in the style I began.

Why hide and be ashamed of life's experiences when really, we are all cut from the same cloth. We all have our moments; we all seek love, feel joy and suffer sadness, and we all put on pants on one leg at a time. Circumstances may change but inside we are matched sets. Maybe I touch a bit of familiarity, talk about things you’ve already done or felt so I’m not breaking any new ground, just reminding people of their own lives.

I also write for my own enjoyment. I want to see what rabbits I can pull out of my hat. I like to laugh so I spin humour, sometimes self deprecating, I mean who better to poke fun at then myself, isn't that what most comedians make a living at? So I’ll keep meandering on, sticking to the formula of tell it like it is.

So far I’ve only received two complaints, one directly at me and the other filtered through someone else. They didn’t like my truth, and felt I should have lied to protect feelings. I’m not insensitive but I refuse to sugar coat to protect those who have done questionable things or maybe didn’t practice the manners their mother taught them. Maybe hearing that you've been an ass might make you think twice about doing again. Usually those kinds of people get away with murder, squash people like flies, treat others like dirt under their nails. They're bullies really so I don't give a hoot about sparing feelings if you act like you don't have any. At least I don't name names so take comfort in that, but that's all I'll give ya.

And I don’t write about every little thing that annoys me. Someone wrote once to ask a question and actually said “At the risk of ending up in one of your blogs"..... I smiled over that. Don’t worry, I won't write about every little thing that happens in the shop. I'm familiar with the concept that we all have bad days and don't deserve to be called on the carpet for minor indiscretions.  I only write about topics that come with a lesson in them, or humour. I'm definitely more on the dry, dark side of a laugh, and from some of the comments I get, I think most of us are on the same page.

So am I wasting my time? I think not. So, I'll just muddle along telling it like it is. Why fix what ain’t broke……

9 Comments

Another fabulous hook-in!!!

1/16/2014

4 Comments

Wow...what hook-in! Last evening 16 of us gathered together for fellowship, friendship and fun. New projects starting and completed projects for show and tell brought many oohs and aahs. There were homemade oatcakes and coffee. Life doesn't get much better than this. I forgot to take Lorraine's pic, sorry girlfriend. I planned to take a picture after she had her rug out of the frame! She who hesitates is lost would apply! Lorraine is now doing the border of her commission and it's phenomenal but you'll just have to take my word for it! I had an appointment today and I'm running behind so I'll let the pictures speak a thousand words........

4 Comments

OMG...I have worms!!!!!!

1/15/2014

I suppose it's an offshoot of rug hooking to be inundated with worms. Sort of like getting colds if you work in the hospital, it's an occupational hazard. Handling so much wool it's bound to happen. There's nothing you can do to prevent them, no matter how diligent you are they will come. All you can do is accept they are now a part of rug hooking and move on.

So what do you do with all these worms? I've often wrapped them up and sent them to the women in San Miguel who hook rugs to support their families. Every couple of years we ship a parcel with brightly coloured wool and our leftover scraps. I sometimes give worms to children after their mother buys them a small piece of burlap and a hook so they can fool around.

There's no prevention for worms and once they start accumulating you just have to live with it or like dandelions you can fight back by consuming them...no I don't mean eat the worms, consume them in a rug. Charlene Scott has provided two lovely demonstrations as to what you can do with a basket full of worms. Hit & Miss isn't just straight lines anymore! Hook them wiggly, like Cape Breton highways. Don't fuss too much about colours placement, just don't use two of the same wools together.

Once wool is cut into strips it's difficult to colour plan for future projects so I make a rule that I only strip what I can use in 1/2 hour of hooking. That gets me out of my chair for a stretch so I don't seize up so it works double duty. That way you don't end up with hoards of worms at the end of each rug that begin as small mounds and then grow into mountains, then fill bags or boxes and lay wasting in a closet.

Geometric patterns are a great place to use up worms. This is a Mary Doig Design called Geometric Jewels. http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/mary-doig.html

2 Comments

The winter of my content.....

1/14/2014

This winter seemed to arrive with guns blazing as if holding a grudge against Autumn, bringing with it killer temperatures and a whole lot of attitude. Except for this short reprieve we are experiencing, its been cold, consistently cold. Usually this would set a brooding mood for the entire season because saying I've despised winter would be an understatement. I've hated the cold with a passion. I've bitched for years the stork dropped me too far north, maybe my head weighed too much to make the flight to Buckingham palace. If you added up all the whining I do in a year, and prorate it between the seasons, 85% would be owned by winter.

In previous years I've welcomed winter mornings with the enthusiasm of a pin in the eye, forcing myself out from beneath the warm covers, wishing I could hibernate until spring. The fire in the wood stove goes out during the night and the temperature dips, not so much that ice cycles form on the end of nose, but enough to yelp and curl the toes as I dash across the cold floor in search of slippers.

This year, things have changed. Not only am I not bitching, I'm feeling an uncharacteristic joy for the season. Has turning 55, with its senior designation, made me into a tough old bird or is that extra layer of padding I've packed on responsible for the reconditioned attitude?  I'll admit, with age, the vanity and the foolishness of youth take second seat to the innate desire for comfort so now I wear wool lined boots, gloves, scarves and sensible coats, replacing past attire that served little purpose against the weather. I no longer shiver like I used to, no longer feel the chill to the very bone. I no longer complain as I suit up to take the pups outside, or take the garbage to the bin. The morning dash to the car used to be record breaking; the whining and cussing echoing a Sam McGee lament.

So I wonder what has changed?   Why I’ve grown more resilient? All the variables of winter have remained constant so it’s reasonable to deduce that something is different about me. Possibly I’m taking each day less for granted as I soar into the second half of my life. Time has suddenly become precious.  Experiencing the cold means I can feel, proof that I'm alive, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. Losing my mother when she was only 58 and growing closer to those numbers myself, lends to a sense of vulnerability, humbles the arrogance of infallibility. Every day I'm here, I'm privileged to experience this gift, so no matter what the conditions are like outside, I'll take it and still my tongue!

There were times in my life when I didn't care if I died. To me the world wasn’t a warm and fuzzy place, but now I'm grabbing on to the ledge, holding on for dear life hoping there will be decades ahead of me, filled with wonderful moments that offer me a reason to stay.   They say every cell in the body is regenerated every seven years, so I am a new and improved person than I was a decade ago. Too bad it wasn't as easy to shed and replace the bad memory cells as well. It took over a third of my life to get to this good place; it would be a cruel joke to have to pack it in now, just as I’m getting it right.

Our brief stay on this planet is flawed.  Just as we grow wise and all knowing, our bodies begin to quit on us. Maybe life should begin in reverse…be young and intelligent, starting out on top of the mountain and then making the steady decline to the bottom. At the end of the journey there would be no big loss of body and mind to depress over, just a simple fade to black. In my case, it's unfortunate I had to waste precious time taking detours, having to travel all those extra miles to reach this good place, but I suppose one has to experience the bad to really appreciate the good…without the contrast, life is a rose without its perfume.

Bundled up on the back porch the other morning, watching my babies at their morning pee, my eyes swept over the rolling hills behind the house and the ice laden harbour. Such beauty before me that I never fully appreciated before and I found myself smiling despite the frigid wind on my face.

A red cardinal flew in to perch at our Sand Cherry tree, a momentary rest on his journey.....a rare and beautiful sight. He posed for me and minutes passed as I breathed cool air in and steamy breath out, watching him in total awe. I became invigorated, surged with energy from the joy of being. An urge sparked me to run out and throw myself backward on the snow, make an angel like I did as a child. I was suddenly oblivious to the cold, and more alive than I have been for years. I resisted the moment for practical reasons. I was in my jammies, no socks in my boots, all boring, grownup logic, but now I regret not indulging the child within....maybe when it snows next time, hopefully I get the chance......

A reminder about our PATTERN OF THE MONTH CLUB & CONTEST
click the link to check it out!
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/contests.html

0 Comments

Update on Pattern of the Month Contest

1/11/2014

I'm excited by the interest our contest has generated in just a few short days. Several of you have offered interesting and helpful recommendations to the contest rules and format. This is my first attempt at a contest so your words were food for thought and here are some changes.

1. Paper pattern will continue to be free with a purchase either by mail order or drop in during the month it is featured.

2. Or you can purchase the paper pattern for $10.00 plus tax (if applicable) and mailing during the month it is featured, no other purchase is required. (We can set up an account and send them out automatically each month)

3. For those who do not want to transfer the design themselves, we will offer the pattern for sale on Burlap $29.95 - Linen $40.43.

4. If you wish to purchase the grid lines on a piece of burlap or linen to fit all 12 images, phone ahead to have it ready when you arrive otherwise, there will will be a short, 10 - 15 minute wait while we make it up. If you are ordering it by mail we will send it out the same day. Burlap $30.00, Linen $42.00.

0 Comments

Announcing - The Pattern of the Month Club & Contest!!!

1/9/2014

Year end duties kept me from announcing this at the first of January, but for each coming month the new pattern will be posted on the 1st to give you all plenty of time for hooking! All mail orders since the 1st of January will automatically be sent the design....if you've been in shopping let me know and I will make sure you get a copy as well. The paper pattern will be in four pieces that will be taped together to make the actual size of 17" x 12"

ATTN -- UPDATE FOR CONTEST

I'm excited by the interest our contest has generated in just a few short days. Several of you have offered interesting and helpful recommendations to the contest rules and format. This is my first attempt at a contest so your words were food for thought and here are some changes.

1. Paper pattern will continue to be free with a purchase either by mail order or drop in during the month it is featured.

2. Or you can purchase the paper pattern for $10.00 plus tax (if applicable) and mailing during the month it is featured, no other purchase is required. (We can set up an account and send them out automatically each month)

3. For those who do not want to transfer the design themselves, we will offer the pattern for sale on Burlap $29.95 - Linen $40.43.

4. If you wish to purchase the grid lines on a piece of burlap or linen to fit all 12 images, phone ahead to have it ready when you arrive otherwise, there will will be a short, 10 - 15 minute wait while we make it up. If you are ordering it by mail we will send it out the same day. Burlap $30.00, Linen $42.00.

This is the is the pattern representing the month of January. Whether you choose to hook the 2014 is up to you. If you decide against it when drawing the horse on your backing it needs to be adjusted slightly to the right to be centered. The Chinese characters represent "Happy New Year" in Mandarin.

FYI - This outstanding bronze horse has become an iconic emblem of China. Racing through the skies, it treads on a stylized swallow (base of statue) that looks up in amazement. Unlike Pegasus, the Western flying horse, the wingless Han steed is meant to be understood metaphorically rather than literally; it represents an ideal horse that can gallop so fast that it seems to outrun the wind. The sculpture is perfectly balanced on only one hoof, to complete the illusion of flight.

2 Comments

There's been a balding eagle sighting at Encompassing Designs!

1/8/2014

Losing hair is not about hair loss, its about face gain...one day I may have a whole head of face!

Monty Python lyrics tell you to, "Always look on the bright side of life". Well, that’s all fine and good, but it‘s kind of hard to see the positive when your hair is deserting you and you’re staring at potential baldness in the mirror. I don’t want the top of my head to look like a silvicultured forest. I’m a woman, I can’t lose my hair! There should be a universal rule that protects the female gender from hair follicles going AWOL! We suffer enough through child birth, menstrual cramps, pap tests, plucking, shaving, waxing and squeezing our feet into uncomfortable shoes....geez, don't we deserve a break?

I've heard the word Alopecia in passing but it meant nothing. I know illnesses can thin hair but it hasn’t happened to anyone I know or then again maybe they don't talk about it. My mother passed away in her 50’s, so I’ve no one to ask if there’s a dysfunctional hair gene in the family. Like any condition, I don’t need to know or understand its ins and outs until it becomes personal to me or someone I know. I learn things through experience, once it's applicable then I knuckle down and do the research. Up to now I’ve been ignorant I guess, I’ve only associated hair loss with men. They say it’s from too much testosterone. Balding guys claim that only manly men lose their hair. We’ve all heard the jokes about men rubbing their head on the bedpost…..booyah!

So I wonder....maybe that’s part of my problem, too much male testosterone. A gynecologist once told me that I was overly hairy, that I probably had a hint of Y in my X. I thought it great at the time, estrogen can be a back stabber if you get certain cancers because it speeds up the progress. So as early as 35 I shaved my legs more than most females, plucked my chin, tweezed the old man eyebrows and accepted the cards I was dealt.

But now, I’m learning 55 is packing a new bag of tricks. Sure I can get discounts at various stores, but things are sliding downward, getting softer and falling out. I’m starting to look like a piece of jerky and that's fine, but please universe, balance that out by allowing me a full head of hair! I feel ashamed now. Over the years, I complained about all those bad hair days. Now, if only I could have them back I’d be ever so thankful! My imagination is working overtime, worrying about extremes. What if most of my hair falls out and I can’t let go of those last few strands? What if that bit of testosterone forces me to entertain the comb over with slick, to hold it down? There’s nothing like those last five strands glued together, lifting in an afternoon breeze...we've all seen it.   About as useful as grasping a cotton thread as you fall off the roof, it does nothing for ya!

I noticed things were looking thin the first part of December. I read the average person looses 50 – 100 hairs a day from normal hair maintenance so I must be somewhere at 300 or so a the rate it's dropping. I noticed a lot of hair clinging to the walls of the shower and pieces woven around my fingers after shampooing. That never happened before, but I dismissed it with a shake of the head; too many other things to focus on. It was only after Christmas that concern crept in, when my ponytail, that was always the size of a small twig was now barely bigger than whipping cord. I stood in front of the mirror to examine the top of my head and was horrified to see, through my thinning bangs, the entire arched top of my skull!

Now I never would have won any hair prizes. No one ever looked at me and said, “Gee, what beautiful hair on that woman!”   In the words of my hairdresser, my hair was fine but there was a lot of it. Was?......how quickly things can turn past tense. I'm no Rapunzel, my hair has always been silky, shortish and straight as a pin, sitting on the fence between dirty blond and reddish. Despite yearning for curly hair for most of my life, I lived with what I was given and felt proud that it would never go grey. My Norwegian ancestry predicts that it’ll turn a mousy sandy colour, not the salt and pepper of darker pigmented hair. My 90 plus grandfather had light silvery, sandy hair, with just a hint of rust, so I would imagine that would be my fate if I have any left. I always thought I’d get out of this life somewhat intact. Except for tonsils and that piece they removed during my tubal that I requested be thrown into the middle of the harbour to ensure it never found its way back, I thought I’d leave much the same as when I arrived. My dentist assures me that my teeth won’t be in a glass by the bedside, my eyes should serve me well enough and despite a bit of diabetes, I’m hoping to hang on to my toes.

People assure me that it’s probably menopause, that their hair is falling out as well and apparently not just on their head but in other areas….at some point there might not be any carpet to match the drapes….. Some people have told me their leg hair didn’t grow back after reaching a certain age, definitely a perk, I'm still waiting on that one!

I’ve researched a few things that could be causing the problem. The serious illnesses don't fit. I have none of the symptoms of anything life threatening. I'll bet the farm that menopause is the trigger; the gun being something I'm lacking through diet and exercise.

It could be one or a combination of several things....stress, too much blow drying, sluggish thyroid (hypothyroidism) or an iron deficiency. I’m a self medicator with natural remedies and I plan to initiate a plan to turn this around before heading to a doctor that will undoubtedly refer me to a dermatologist and then take a trip down the drug route. If it comes to that, I’ll opt for the wig or implants but at this point I might be a bit premature, just sayin that's all.....

I’ll work on the problem, make changes to my life and diet and if I fail then I’ll seek out the professionals. I’m the complete opposite of the hypochondriac, I avoid doctors like the plague and I’m not sure if that is the reason for my good health because if you go often they find stuff and that starts the wheel rolling downhill, or if I’m doing things right with prevention and attention.   Whatever happens, I’m prepared to take full responsibility, it’s my way and I’m not about to change. If I break my arm, I’d seek help, but I am one of those annoying people who think there is a reason for why the body is out of balance, not just an opportunity to take a drug to mask a symptom. Drugs cure nothing, they just provide comfort from the symptoms. I like to search for answers as to why things happen and then try to fix it. If this doesn’t work, I’ll buy a wig and go for a blood test. I don’t want to waste my time and the taxpayer’s money to be told “Go home, it’s your age” as one friend was told over the loss of hair.

I must say I was stressed over the holidays so I’m thinking that’s the #1 culprit. I’m practicing breathing and trying to laugh at things that might have bothered me before.   I don’t know why I wear stress like a miss fitting coat. Probably some past conditioning coming back to haunt me, but the buck has to stop here and if I have to Yoga or Tie Chi my way out of this, I will. Massage never worked, I couldn’t relax enough to relax.   A stranger’s hands all over my body clashed with my personal space allowance.

So I'm upping the consumption of seafood, red meat and spinach. A bit more iron and iodine in my diet and foods to boost my thyroid. It’s all good. So I have a plan. I’ll give it a month and if I don’t notice a new stubble of baby hairs I’ll go outside my bubble for help. I’m optimistic. Only three days in and my energy level is up so maybe my hair will return to roost.   If it does, I’ll caress my precious locks and promise to never say “I wish you were curly” ever, ever, ever again!   Anyway, I’ll keep you posted on my success or lack of. If anyone has any helpful tips I’m all ears…especially now that they stick out between the thinning stands!

Hmmmm....I wonder if these are still available?

And this one is just pure silliness!

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Fabulous tablet cover, from an antique design....

1/7/2014

By Guest Blogger Charlene Scott

This small pattern, purchased in a thrift shop, was featured in a previous blog with a question as to what it was for.   There were several suggestions but I concluded it was meant as a brick cover to be used as a door stop. Feel free to correct me if I am wrong.

I started to hook it as I have not yet settled on my next larger project because I’m not good watching TV without something in my hands. At first I didn’t know what I would do with yet another small project but very quickly realized the pattern was perfect for a cover for my new iPad, which then morphed into a purse or pouch for it.   Hooking a handbag was on my to do list for some time and this pattern fit the bill nicely.

I hooked the front and back in a #3 cut but did the outside edge in a row of #4 cut then a row of #5 cut. I extended the length of the pattern by about 5-6 rows and the width by at least 2 rows. I used leftover material, therefore none of the leaves match, but I think that makes for a more interesting effect. I had lots of dark blue from another project so used that for the background.

This was not a difficult project to construct together as it was just a fold over with two seams.   Maybe Pearl McGown was ahead of her time more than we knew...a visionary into the future, as this design was perfectly conducive to be made into a tablet cover. I zigzagged the burlap edge all around, then folded it in, pressed it down and then basted the cut edge to the underside of the hooked piece. I sewed the folded burlap edges together with a crisscross pattern then whipped over the edge to hide the stitches and burlap. The inside lining is a repurposed carry bag given to me one year at Rug school when registering.   I took the straps off and sewed it across about halfway up and it was perfect size for the liner.

I was going to sew it tight to the top edge of the opening but realized that the grey would show on the outside. So I used some 2 ply yarn and did a fine whipping around the top opening and then attached the liner below the edge of the opening. I finished it off with a leather strap from an old purse that my husband had bought for me many years ago that eventually wore out. For some reason I saved the strap as it was a nice piece of leather and put it away for future use. So with a repurposed, old Pearl McGown pattern called Rose and Forget me Nots, a repurposed carry bag, left over wool and a recycled leather strap, I made a purse that I will use for years to come. I really enjoyed this small project.

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Laurie Cassie's show and tell...

1/6/2014

By Guest Blogger Laurie Cassie

Bonnie's Posies

You will likely not remember, but in 2006 we were back east on a cross Canada tour. We stopped into your shop and … wham! I was hooked - no pun intended. You let me try a few stitches on a project you had set up in the back of the shop,

I bought the pattern to Bonnie's Posies, a hoop and a hook and away I went. I design my own now and really love it. Thank you for the introduction. Hours and hours of pleasure. Thank you for being my inspiration!

Bonnie's Posies - My first rug project! I couldn't afford the rug I really wanted hanging on the wall in Encompassing Designs and then Christine said, "You can hook your own." Hmmm…. Christine's 20 min. intro lesson in the back of the shop, bought a pattern, a hook and a hoop and away I went - back to Vancouver, BC. Got home and didn't have a clue how to start. Signed up for a Tues. night course here at home and got the basics down. Dorr wool hand-dyed with Majic carpet dyes. Hooked in a 6. Bonnie's Posie's - a lot of tearing out and re-hooking, but I do love the colours. Thank you Christine, for taking the time with me that day. Your generosity has led to hours and hours of enjoyment since that summer day in 2006.

Hallway Runner - This was my first 'design my own' project. I was terrified of hooking open space. I had no idea of what to do if there wasn't a patterned line to follow so I knew I needed something with a clear pattern throughout. I also wanted to visually elongate my hallway. So I decided on 7 flowers, each got repeated 3 times with a grid of 21. The higgly-piggly border gave me a chance to use up some spare wool. The walls in the hallway are pale blue so the rug just brightens up the whole space. Dorr wool hand-dyed with Majic carpet dyes. Hooked in a 6.

Dining Room Chairs - If you had seen my old fabric on the dining room chairs you would know in a heartbeat that this was a necessary project! A set of paper napkins bought at Costco was the inspiration for the design. The dining room walls are a deep red so I wanted the yellow to help liven up the space. A 'hooker' friend, Michelle, guided me to realizing I had to hook the seat much smaller than the actual chair so that the hooking doesn't have to bend around the edge of the chair. The loops would open up and the backing would show. So then came my problem of what to do about fabric around the border. I used an old, OLD wool blanket and over dyed it with 'Dijon' dye recipe. It was another 'hooker' friend, Mae, who helped me figure out the sewing together. Dorr wool hand-dyed with Majic carpet dyes. Hooked in a 6. You know the expression "It takes a village to raise a child"? Well, apparently it applies to my hooking as well! Thank you Michelle and Mae!

Rachel's Purple Rug - My daughter loves all things purple. This was my time to try and conquer open space - well, a little open space. Threw the burlap on the floor, got out the Sharpie and just started drawing kooky florals. Wanted a traditional border to balance the wackiness inside so I went with egg & dart for the border. Dorr wool hand-dyed with Majic carpet dyes. Hooked in a 6.

Rachel's Purple Rug

Hallway Runner

Dining Room Chairs

Scroll down for two more posts of show and tell rugs!

2 Comments

Stepping Out.......

1/6/2014

By Guest Blogger Colleen Cosgrove

I wanted to send you a photo of the finished rug – your Stepping Out pattern. It is far from perfect but I am very pleased with the result. Thank you so much for your help dyeing and selecting the colours. Now if only the cardinal rug for my husband turns out as well.

Stepping Out was hooked entirely in #5. The colours were dyed by Christine to coordinate with a photo of a bedspread which I sent her. It was fun to hook and to choose which colours to use for each shoe. The last shoe to be done was the toughest for colours so I used an odd mix thinking this is the pair of shoes in every woman's closet which she bought on impulse and later regretted. Afterward though, I really liked it. Because I was working full time, it took me 9 months to complete but I enjoyed every minute.

Thanks again.

Colleen Cosgrove

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High Tide by Barb Oldfield

1/6/2014

Here is a photo of my finished first project! Thanks so much for your encouragement and assistance. I am sorry we were unable to join you at the Christmas party.....all due to weather conditions. Have yourself a "Merry LITTLE Christmas" and warm wishes for a healthy and prosperous 2014. Best regards, Barb Oldfield

Barb hooked Sue Cunningham's High Tide pattern (design can be viewed at http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/sue-cunningham.html ) Blue and yellow are always a favourite at my house. Great job Barb! The Christmas party was cancelled due to the weather so we will be gathering sometime in January, weather permitting, to make sure we don't miss out on the Main Street Hooker's Tradition of coming together to celebrate friendship, fellowship and the love of rug hooking!

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Beginning Class in January

1/5/2014

Our next beginner class will be

January 19, 2014

Release your inner hooker!

Click the link below for class information

http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/workshops.html

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Let 2014 begin!

1/4/2014