Blog Archives

Spring renewal.....

5/31/2018

Bleeding Hearts watch over Honey's grave.

I’ve been gardening. I thought I was finished with maintaining the three fairly large patches that surround our house, but the guilt drove me to pick up a spade and start beating back the weeds once again. We won’t start working on our boat until the end of June so I didn’t have any excuse to avoid the yard work. And like I said, the guilt of neglecting all my little lovelies after I’d nurtured them for so long made me feel badly. I can't bring myself to desert my Peonies and beloved Lilies. I enjoy gardening very much, digging in the cool earth is satisfying, but as I get older I have to pick and choose where I expel my energies, its in shorter supply these days. I’ve hung up my superwoman costume, I’m more like old Ma Kettle now, my mouth gets more exercise than my body.

Last evening I was weeding the area around my pup’s graves. Louis, and now my Honey are resting in my garden; large slate rocks mark the spot. I sit a lot when I’m weeding to save my knees, and I took turns resting on their stones. I was struck by the lack of misting eyes; it’s so amazing how time can heal a broken heart. It never removes the entire ache because a true love never dies, but like a drug, time dulls the intensity of the pain. It’s hard to believe that only a few months ago I was a broken damn of tears, my soul dampened by the heartache of losing my precious Honey. The pain was so sharp and searing that I wouldn’t have fought my own demise just to stop the anguish.

I remember how I collapsed while burying her, the soil muddied by salty tears. A loud cry escaped me; surely the neighbours must have heard the mournful wail that echoed off the trees and hill. Shoveling that first bit of soil on her dear little body signified I would never see her again and my heart shattered into a million pieces. With each mound if dirt, the pain grew until a lump of despair threatened to choke me.

Now when I go out into the garden I look at Honey’s grave and there are no more burning tears, only a soft sadness remains, and smiles as I remember the little scamp that stole my heart. I guess I’ve stowed away the sorrow to make way for the memories. I think about the world and how many people and furry kids are beneath our soil, trillions perhaps and that’s a lot of grief for the ones left behind. Of course we never forget them, but we do move on despite the debilitating anguish of losing a loved one. How resilient we are.....

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Christine's Picks - Limited time offer

5/26/2018

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I have assembled some limited time bundles. My picks for you! Once sold these won't be available again. They consists of four 1/4 yds of hand-dyed wool and/or plaids that equal 1 yard. There are three 1 oz skeins of yarn hand-dyed as well as factory dyed, and various roving accents that blend. Selling fast, don't snooze or you'll lose. $69.95 ea

Mermaid Tail

Gentlemen Wear Plaid

Teal & Terricotta

Christmas Wish

Lily Garden

Forest Canopy

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RIP Linda MacDonald

5/17/2018

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Linda commanding the room at assembly.

I was shocked to learn that Linda MacDonald, wife, mother and friend to many, the director of this year’s rug school, past president of the Rug Hooking Guild of Nova Scotia and retired owner of Rags to Rugs Craft Shop died yesterday.

We weren’t close for all the years we’ve known one another from the rug hooking circuit, but this year at school I felt we made a connection. We chatted a few times about various things, this business, the pros and cons and we had a few laughs in between. They were short but meaningful conversations but what struck me the most was the way she looked at me when we spoke. She practiced the rare art of looking into my eyes when communicating, it was intense and I came away from her affected by it. I felt she would make a good friend. She was sincere to a fault, a rare commodity in today’s world.

Linda also had a really good sense of humour and I really enjoyed her stints behind the microphone for assembly and events held in the large common area room. She was comfortable behind the mic and her dry wit, which I've always deem the best kind, was highly appreciated. Her timing was perfectly executed.   I joked she should quit her day job and go out on the road as a comedian but she reminded me she was retired and not interested in another career. We laughed.

When we were setting up shop Sunday evening, the students flooded the area, picking through the items I was trying to unpack and display. I kindly said the shop would be open Monday morning at 9:00 a.m. but no one read between the lines and I wasn’t about to be rude and chase them away.  At some point Linda noticed the crowds gathering and came over and shouted bluntly, “Get Out!” They all scattered like fleas at a raid convention. I laughed at her boldness and she told me “Hey, they don’t have to like me.” Linda was petite in stature, but she sported six feet and 250 lbs. of authority.

I am infinitely sad for her family and close friends and all those in the rug hooking community that will share in this devastating loss.

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'A New Shape For Summer' workshop with Heather Gordon

5/16/2018

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Below are some of the patterns available. Contact Heather for pricing.

Posies in the Garden 10" x 15"
Bunch of Posies 12" x 15"
Playmates 9" x 12"
Baa-Baa Chair Pad 12" dia.
Bluenose At Home 10" x 12"

Participants may bring a pattern of their own if they wish. Contact Heather to register and order a pattern.

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The joke's on me....

5/13/2018

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At rug school they hold a silent auction and a live one, a fundraiser for the guild. People attending school bring items to donate and it is always a fun time. This year didn’t disappoint with Wanetta Evans as the auctioneer. As acting Treasurer, she pulled money out of our pockets like a pro, with hilarious antics. We were all in stitches, or I suppose being at rug school, in loops!

I bid on a Thirty-one tote which was perfect to lug my hooking frame around and will serve double duty to carry items to our boat. It’s made of strong vinyl and is sturdy with a metal frame that collapses nicely for storing. Mostly the items for auction are hooking related and with the shop I have everything I need so this bag was perfect for me to bid on. Once I spied it, I was determined it was going to be mine. Someone else wanted it too but there can only be one victor and I hung in till the glorious end. I paid way more than what it was worth but that’s okay, it was a charity donation and I always like to give back to rug school. The bag came filled with wool, yarn and bits and pieces of this and that for hooking, which I didn’t want so I donated it back immediately and they auctioned it off and made and extra $40.00 for the collection plate. All win, win and glorious fun.

The Guild raised around $2000.00 at that event and cheers went up by all. It was a hoot, one of the pinnacles of the week, with Wanetta at her microphone, truly it was almost a Depends moment. Really folks, rug school is way more than just rug hooking, the fun and entertainment in the evenings and people you meet, and although its cafeteria food it was delicious, I'm still thinking about that Butter Chicken the first night. Join our guild and sign up for next year when the classes are offered. It’s a week where you don’t have to cook or clean, the classes are amazing, the teachers are fabulous, the students produce incredible projects, it's like being in a candy bowl.

Throughout the week they held a silent auction where you could bid on items along the back wall, once again, things donated and mostly hooking related. Much to my excitement, someone had contributed a large coffee table, William Morris book. I’m a collector of any volumes about William Morris, I have a library in the Hook Nook filled with books on rug hooking and several on Morris, things I’ve collected since I began hooking all of 19 years ago. The books are there for anyone to peruse and enjoy.

So when I spied this book it was as good as mine. I watched the bids roll in and topped them each time. Another gal wanted it and her name was written down as much as mine but I teasingly told her I planned to take it and that she was more than welcome to come to the shop to read it there. We had a good laugh. She didn’t know I’m like a dog with a bone but she would find that out. Of course that made the joke on me even more hilarious.

So I bid on and finally just jumped a $10.00 increment to $60.00, figuring that would take all the others out of the equation and it worked, but I knew that a sniper bid could come in at the very last minute so as we waited for the auction to close I hovered around the book like a protective mother hen and was willing to take out anyone that approached. I know this sounds rather evil and I wouldn’t really have done it, but it was fun pretending and got a few laughs.

The book was beautiful and I could only imagine what lay between the covers....because I hadn’t mentioned that it was still sheathed in plastic, had never been opened or read. It was pristine for Christine. New and shiny like the day it rolled off the press. I would be the first to crack entrance to all the magic of William Morris. It was salacious!

So the book was mine. I paid my money and quickly ran to my lair; I mean my shop with the book tucked under my arm. I was almost giddy tearing off the plastic, like a Golem coveting the precious.

People were now heading to my shop so I was quickly leafing through the pages and it didn’t disappoint. It was stunning, colour plate after plate of unimaginably beautiful works of art. But then I saw a painting that wasn’t a Morris that I recognized as a Walter Crane, white horses making up a crashing wave, called The Horses of Neptune, and I looked to read the caption.

Well....I tried too. I’m not fluent in other languages because the book was entirely written in French! If I had taken the time to pick the book up and look at the back of the jacket I would have seen that it wasn't in English, like other, wiser folks told me they did. The front gave no indication.

I laughed out loud at my folly. It just goes to show that coveting is wrong, actually one of the seven deadly sins, and this was my punishment. On the flip side, I’ve read a lot of books on William Morris so I’m probably not missing much, the colour plates are all I need if I want to adapt any of them into a rug hooking pattern, and if I need help interpreting the names of his artwork, hubby can oblige. So Gail, come on by and look at the photos, unless of course you can speak French....

They say he who hesitates is lost, but it can also be said, he who jumps in without looking might get a surprise. It seems my life is always filled with amusing tales although at times things happen that are tragic, but if I wasn’t riding these ever present waves I'd be washed up on shore with nothing to write about......

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Fun packed week at rug school.....

5/11/2018

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I planned to write blogs at rug school but between the shop and fun, my evenings were chewed up and swallowed. What a slice! It was a fast and fruitful week, the van was a little less bulging on the way home. The shop was a huge success!

After setting up Sunday afternoon and into the evening which made for a long day, then open for business 11 hours on Monday I was wiped so I went to my room after closing and pretty much passed out. By Tuesday I got a second wind and stayed up to hear Don Tabor sing in the entry way accompanied by two guitarists and I must say, the hair on my arms raised a few times when he sang songs that brought back great memories. He’s been gifted with the art of song and is as comfortable on a stage as breaking bread with friends. Don is from Springhill where my mom was born and he also knows my cousin Joe in this wonderfully large, but small world.

I’ve been adopted by a couple of sisters who promised to visit Mahone Bay for continued fun; I sure hope they were serious! Everyone danced their arses off at Wednesday evening’s pub party. A DJ provided the tunes and we all cut up the dance floor, ripped it to shreds with our hip thrusts, arm swings and boogying down. The next morning my bad knee felt great and the good knee screamed a bit; all that twisting and shimmy, shimmy shaking. Not bad for a middle aged gal. I know I was transported as the tunes peeled back the years. Every Wednesday at school there is a theme night and this year was all about black and white and some of the get ups were hilarious and the dancing, oh the dancing, was the highlight of my week.

I asked the DJ for Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars and was obliged, twice. I love that song, it’s so upbeat and funky, who cares what the words are. The music inspires movement and if you can resist, you should be checked for a pulse.   I danced pretty much too every tune, except for those that I traded for rest in my chair and a mouthful of beer. Midnight came too fast and the plug was pulled all too soon. I staggered to the dorm, greased by a couple of micro-brewery beers and without much experience and tolerance for alcohol, the tipsy gauge moved a wee titch to the right. But no worries, my new sisters helped me home and like Vegas, What Happens At Rug School Stays There. I have the rug to prove it.

I designed this pattern years ago and Susan Leslie hooked it. We embellished it with some bling, a pair of glasses, scissors and a hook, the latter disappeared off the magnet a while ago. Note the slip under her dress as she kicks up her heels. Thence the name, “Kicking Up Your Heels”. The rug says it all. Too much sweet indulgence, a bit of social drinking, a lot of shopping and of course, rug hooking.

Thursday evening it all came to an end for the shop although the classes ran till Friday noon. Shane arrived late afternoon to deliver goods that people ordered throughout the week. He and Deborah were like little elves back at the shop dyeing wool and drawing patterns so I didn’t have to disappoint any customers with their wants and needs.

Thursday from 6:00 pm to 8:00 pm, there was a wonderful display of the student’s projects and let me tell you, they were awesome, this wonderful craft we love is reaching higher levels of creativity every year. Some of the projects raised the bar so high we will have to get out a vault pole to top them.

Three busloads and many outside admirers flooded the room until it roared; the collective oohs and aahs were excellent praise for work well done. Plus the student rug hookers and Teacher’s Branch pieces were still on display, wrapping the room in a wonderful artistic, rug hug. What a show it was!

After everyone left at 8:00 we went to work removing the shop. It takes far less time tearing it down then packing it up with a lot less inventory to address, so we slammed it all together in an hour. Shane drove the van and I had my car and thank goodness my Aunt Audrey came up for the drive with him so I had someone to drive home with me or perhaps they would have found me in a ditch. The last few minutes of the hour long drive I fought to resist yawning as the need to close my eyes crept in. I only managed two hours sleep the night before so I was dragging a bit.

When we hit Mahone Bay, we unloaded the van and I got home close to midnight and pretty much staggered into bed with my happy pups. It’s a lot of work and long days, and all the fun can take its toll but it's nothing a good nights sleep won't cure. I wouldn’t have changed a thing. It was a blast.

A big thank-you to Deborah and Shane for all their hard work to get me to school and then to come home and set it all back up. We are a great team! Thanks to Shane for all the heavy lifting.

A big thank-you for all the wonderful compliments for Shane’s dyed wool; he really is the Dye Guy!

A huge thank-you to all our wonderful customers who support us, we would be nothing without you!

And last but not least, a big thank-you to the Rug Hooking Guild of NS for selecting Encompassing Designs Rug Hooking Studio as the vendor for their 2018 rug school.

For all those heading back home, safe travels and hook on!

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Honey, I smell diesel....

5/10/2018

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How many of your diesel fuel tanks have erupted leaks, pouring its contents into the holding compartment. BLESS the holding compartment! Diesel fuel, like gasoline, is a hydrocarbon-based fuel. Short-term exposure such as when you fuel your truck or clean up a small spill, can temporarily irritate your eyes, skin or respiratory tract and/or cause dizziness, headache or nausea. However, longer-term exposure may lead to more serious health concerns, such as lung cancer, kidney damage, and increased risk of heart attack. Obviously Diesel is nothing to fool around with.

I should perhaps say at this point, one of these days I’ll post a blog about fun boating things, the bliss of being on the water, wind in our hair and sun smiling down on us, but in the meantime my stories are about fixing the boat, cleaning the boat, waxing the boat, refinishing the teak, applying elbow grease and breaking our backs working in tight quarters. Work, work and more work you say? Well to me this necessary, topical maintenance still rests in the fun category, I love that we are rejuvenating our boat, making her shine, but I don’t like when systems break down, the heavy maintenance repairs, the expensive jobs. Gregg tells me this is all a part of boat ownership, and Catalyst is 28 years old, so she occasionally needs more than a Band-Aid fix.

So about eight inches (at its deepest point) of fuel was sloshing about under my berth sending a cloud of fumes around my head. I sleep in the aft berth backwards to how it was intended in the layout drawings. I don’t like my pillows at the end of a mattress unsupported by a wall. I prop up and read at night, so I turned the blankets and pillows around and my feet are where my head was supposed to go. It’s a bit close, like lying in an over-sized coffin, and a bit tricky to crawl out of without bumping my head but comfortable when sleeping. We installed a reading light which has a red bulb so others can sleep, and that red glow doesn’t attract no-see-ums, before when wearing a head lamp, they would land on my book in clusters as they rushed to the white light. The red glow is also a better transition from light to darkness for sleep.

So my head is pretty much right over the holding area gap between the tank and the wall. The fuel had leaked, over half a foot of it that sloshed back and forth under and around the tank every time the boat gently swayed in the water. When it pooled under my head area the fumes drifted up around the mattress and my pillows to fill my nostrils with its strong, sickening stench. I don’t do well with gasoline and diesel fumes; headaches form and my glands puff in my neck as the toxins invade my body.

Waking an uncustomary amount of times through the night, as my headache grew I wondered why it? I went up to the cockpit and used a flashlight to see if our boat was leaking, looking for the skim of oil on the surface but there was nothing. Later that night as the smell seemed to grow stronger, I opened the small cockpit window that is in the aft birth area thinking once again that the smell was coming from the outside, someone else’s boat problem leaching into the night, but the air coming in smelled a heck of a lot better than what was seeping out. I assumed then that the smell was coming from the engine that was only a thin wall away from where I was bunking. It was a pitiful night’s sleep and in the morning I told Gregg about the fumes and he and a friend went looking for the source. It was quite the surprise finding the yellowish culprit free standing below my bunk. We had the boat hauled soon after.

Unfortunately, Catalyst always smelled of diesel so it wasn’t out of the ordinary to have trace hints of it, but this was more concentrated. The engine came with problems and an oily surface was always skimming the top of the rain water in the bilge from various leaks we hadn’t located yet. Almost pretty with its shimmering iridescence, the rainbow of colours was an oily bitch to remove. We went through a lot of dish detergent to get rid of the greasy residue and Dawn, good to its name, removed it. So I grew accustomed to the odor as if it was Catalyst’s personal scent. Friends complained about it every time they came on board but ours had been a salt water girl and used harder than their boat that lived on a lake for most of its life and was as pampered like a baby. Through inexperience I didn’t know how a boat should smell and with the engine sitting behind a thin piece of plywood only inches away from the living space, I thought it natural to be living with odors.

After the engine had died and been fixed three times, the smell of diesel had dulled to a standstill but now it seemed back with a vengeance. The weird thing was that the fumes would come and go every minute or so. I didn’t realize the rocking and spinning of the boat on the anchor was the reason and why should I? How did we know that the 28 year old tank below my berth had reached its life span and picked that week to finish chewing its way through the metal, allowing it to leak? Luckily for us the tank sat in a sealed holding area, with a wall of batteries on the other side. More importantly, we’re lucky diesel isn’t highly flammable! If it hadn’t been self-contained it would have leaked everywhere and found its way under the floor boards, splashing up along her sides behind all the build ins, permeating the entire belly of her beamy bottom. We would have had to dismantle everything in the cabin to clean underneath. It would have been a disaster and we’d have to wear hazmat suits and masks on our weekend jaunts to the islands until the smell faded away.

Luckily it was the end of the season, we hauled the boat and Gregg removed the old tank. He ordered a new one to be made over the winter. He gave the old one to Peter Tanner in Blue Rocks to use as a template and Gregg requested it to be built a half inch shorter so he could put soft bracing beneath it to prevent future chaffing which caused the breakdown and holes. The stainless tank came shiny and new and Gregg installed it in the spring, filled it with diesel and fired up the engine. No leaks. No odor. Our boat now smells awesome, well, not as awesome as a bouquet of flowers, it is an old boat after all, but pleasant is an accurate descriptor. Just another tale to write in the book of Catalyst II, Nonsuch extraordinaire.

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I'm at Rug School!

5/6/2018

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Hey all, I'm at rug school! How cool is that! I'm tired to the marrow but really excited. Thanks to Shane and Deborah for all their help. There is no way I could have done this on my own. Thanks also for all the extra hours you pitched in to help stock the shelves, packing and unpacking and setting up.

Tomorrow I open at 9:00 am and a friend is coming to help me. Outsiders are welcome to come in and shop and see the awesome rug display that's across me me. I had a peek this evening and it's mind blowing! So I'm off to bed for an early start tomorrow. I'll be reporting from rug school central all week. Here is a preview of all our awesomeness!

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FYI

5/4/2018

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The shop will be closed at 1:00 pm tomorrow (Saturday) so we can pack up for rug school. Sorry for the inconvenience but....packing usually takes about four or five hours and we are all wiped and need a decent rest and night's sleep to recharge for the trip to the city on Sunday. The shop will be open all week although it won't be so full and lush as usual. See you when I get back if not at rug school!

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Sweet Indecisions

5/2/2018

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I’ve been working on “Sweet Indecisions” on and off for over two weeks. I was commissioned to do a pattern of a woman of size in an ice cream parlor and this is the destination of my traveling mind.

This pattern was a bit of a challenge to design and a witch to draw. All those straight lines of the windows, the door and floor around all of the motif. Straight lines have to be drawn separately and the red dot has to sit on the pattern perfectly straight. Me and my detail. Whoever takes this one on better like working in a bit of #3 cuts. I’d do it in #3 and #5.

Making the scene look like an ice-cream parlor from the inside looking out took a bit of planning. Then I had to figure out how much detail of the outside should show through the windows. There comes a point when too much motif can detract from the focal point of the rug so I allowed a Volkswagen Beetle to be parked outside the door but added nothing to show through the large plate glass windows. There was enough going on with the backwards lettering of ICE CREAM on one window and PARLOR on the other and the back side of the awnings to fill the space.

At one point I had people sitting at the tables, one couple sharing a milkshake, sipping at two straws like love struck teenagers but I erased them, left the milkshake, perhaps they both snuck off for a little hanky-panky in the bathroom. Once again keeping it simpler to focus on the main point which is; a customer looking up at the implied billboard with a 150 flavours of ice-cream, cakes, cupcakes and milkshakes and trying to pare it down to one choice, one flavour; hence “Sweet Indecisions”.

Like I usually do, as a design is evolving, I think about colours and for this one all I could see was pink, like a big puff of cotton candy had filled my brain. Pink is happy and feminine, girly all the way and I associated it with candy as well.   Perhaps bubble gum is the influence, or wintergreen mints, suckers, Popsicles, sweet hearts, chicken bones, Dum Dums, gumballs, strawberry ice-cream, milkshakes and remember pink popcorn? I can almost smell the sugar and feel a cavity in my back molar.

I envisioned the awnings to be pink and black. The tiles on the floor could be pink and black, pink walls with white woodwork. I feel this piece should emanate a pink aura with accents of all the lovely colours that compliment it, like soft greens and yellows, oh yes, I can see it now. If I get time I’d like to colour this one in using Photoshop, if only I could stretch the day like a rubber band.

I would really like to hook this one for the fun of it and hang it in the shop as a light and airy summer piece, but alas, I know I won’t. I have so many items I need to hook on my list; seven remaining risers, and another rug for our boat for the North American Nonsuch Rendezvous being held in Halifax in August this year. It’s an exciting event with our Nonsuch boats on display, showing and sharing how we appoint them, renewing the bright work, polishing the stainless, swabbing and waxing the decks, improvements etc.   For me, a colourful, nautically inspired, custom rug will go a long way to pimping our boat in an extra and unique way. I’ve already completed a compass rose rug and now I want a companion piece with the same rich palette for below the companionway stairs. Luscious nautical reds, deep navy blues and glorious golds will adorn her teak and holly floor as two, one-of-a-kind hooked rugs providing beauty and non-slip walking though the cabin. Yup, I plan to mix my passions, marry sailing and my beloved craft as much as time allows!   I have also designed what I am calling, Encompassing Designs Tartan, which will be the center of this new pattern. Stay tuned.

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