Blog Archives

The beauty before the rain.......

6/30/2015

The clematis blooms are magnificent this year. The purple flower heads were the largest they've ever been. The fuchsia one on my chimney has never flowered so bountifully with hundreds yet to open.

Ah gardening. Is there any better past time to connect with mother earth? The work can be backbreaking but the rewards are worth every ache and pain. Sowing a seed or introducing a new plant to the garden is an act of nurturing; raising a one season progeny.

The excitement begins by finding the perfect addition and bringing the little bundle home. Preparing a nursery, that perfect spot in the ground. Watering and weeding, watching over the little darlings with tender loving care and then the bloom. The plant opening its essence. If the conditions are right in this symbiotic relationship, after the nurturing comes the gift of amazing beauty.

But the weather can be a harsh reality. The wind and rain this weekend beat the peonies into the grown, their large flowering heads, soaked and heavy laden, bowed in defeat. The delicate poppy petals were ripped from their glory to wilt and dissolve on the drenched soil.   My irises, so large and proud, forced to the ground like a hostages in a heist. I looked around my gardens this morning with a heavy heart. So much beauty senselessly destroyed by the same element that nourishes it.

I’m miffed but I’ll get over it. I’ve been through this before, it doesn’t make me want to stop planting, stop gardening. The loss is tough but like farmers in the province at least my livelihood isn’t over. Extreme weather can be a death to crops. I only have to swallow a bit of disappointment.

I’ve gotten behind in my weeding. There’s been a lot on my plate lately and the rain made all the weeds shoot up with a vengeance. It would be easy to give up for the summer but I won’t. I’ll play the game of one step forward two steps back with mother nature. I’ve invested a lot of sweat equity in my little flower patch so until I hang up my trowel I have to move forward. When the day comes that it’s too much to handle I’ll give my perennials away and either let the grass take over or put in low maintenance shrubs. For now, it's curtains for my lost peonies and poppies, their run was short but sweet. I am waiting for the next act. Enter stage right, the Lily show, their magnificent performance is always worthy of a standing ovation. Although winter was a harsh critique and I lost some of my major players, my incredible Stargazer and a few Asiatics, I have a huge cast of day lilies, several show stopper Stella Dora's that are in rehearsal for the magnificent show about to open on this broad's way.

This red poppy is almost a foot across. It's delicate center is amazing.

No garden is complete without a Peony Patch. I have white, light pinks, deeper pinks, yellow and rich cranberry. The smell is intoxicating and every whiff stops the earth from turning. I find the peony more fragrant than roses, although disappointingly, some came without any smell at all. I'm so sad for those plants.....what has man done to you? My yellow peony hasn't opened yet but the plant is filled with buds.

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Welcome to the Third Dimension Workshop

6/26/2015

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Last weekend there was a workshop at the studio. Teacher Heather Gordon led the class into the 3rd Dimension where the students learned how to do proddy, cable stitch, sculpting, reverse hooking, special effects and penny pieces to add whimsy in their rugs.

We were a little short spaced with the renovation still underway but we cosied up around the front of the shop and although at times it was a bit inconvenient we made the best of it. Thanks for being troopers gals!

Heather doing a sculpting demonstration.

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Bridal Tea

6/25/2015

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This was written the evening after the shower two weekends ago.

It’s a contradiction to be so exhausted I could drop standing up, but still be over the moon and revved. This was the afternoon of the bridal shower for my son’s fiance, the lovely Ashley, and I worked like a demon snapping the house in order, baking and preparing food, gardening, painting and having lists constantly rolling around in my head like those old player piano music sheets.

I never do things half way, it’s all or nothing, that’s me in a nut shell, so there was silver to polish, washing china, buffing the cutlery, checking the stemware, digging out the linen tablecloth and all the other pomp and circumstance.

I managed to get it all done but ran out of time. I never learn to take my shower early, but it seems counter productive when running around like a chicken without a head gets me hot and bothered and sweaty armpits didn't fit with the celebration I'd envisioned.

So per the usual, I was in the bathroom when guests started to arrive. It’s funny, they can launch a space shuttle and time the landing on the moon within a fraction of a second, but I can’t be ready on time to greet guests at the door. I was drying my hair while the first people arrived. Not that hubby and my aunt Audrey couldn’t handle it but one of these days I need to plan better, start earlier or do less. There were so many things to check off. That morning I moved like the Flash, barking orders to the help (thank-you hubby and Audrey), trying to remember to say please and thank-you but some fell short. I wasn't as mean as Chef Ramsey but I might have come dangerously close. I can really move, all that short order cook experience in my teens is a life skill I’ll take to my grave. I can do several things at once and I did, I looked like a movie playing fast forward. Not that I'm placing myself in their caliber but I'm sure any caterer knows what's it's like to meet deadlines and I'll bet their deodorant meets with a fatal end as well.

I'd made a princess canopy for Ashley's chair and found a tiara online that arrived the afternoon before. It was beautiful but not the most comfortable thing to wear but she was a real trooper and left in on for a few pictures. I think every woman needs at least one tiara in her lifetime. Maybe that's just me projecting. I'd take a real crown any day, something more tangile than the imaginary one I've worn for years.

Some of the highlights were my homemade squares and bouquets of veggies and fruit delivered to the door that morning were fabulous. What great service, delicious and decadent looking. Blossoms in Chester, at the Galley Restaurant, check them out! http://www.blossomsfruitarrangements.com/

The star of the day, second only to Ashley, was the cake. Made by Angela’s Delectable Delights, Angela is the daughter of Anne Holmes, one of our Main Street Hookers gals. The cake was a showstopper and as delicious as it was beautiful with layers of chocolate, vanilla and chocolate ganache. The theme for the event was a tea party so the cake design was decided by the invitation. I asked for a pale turquoise base with flowers and the colours perfectly matched the invite card. I couldn't be more pleased. AI would highly recommend Angela and she makes divine cupcakes as well.

My Aunt Audrey was in charge of the games. She was darling in her pink hat and enthusiastically entertained the crowd with four games between eating lunch and unwrapping presents.   She should rent herself out for a professional games coordinator as she had elegant print outs and it was very apparent she put a lot of thought into it. We had a basket of presents for prizes and everyone went home with something. I also had chocolate covered apples, also by Blossoms to hand out as they left. I think it was a fun afternoon for all.

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A world of sadness.....

6/23/2015

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We received some heartbreaking news this past weekend. A friend’s son committed suicide. At this point the details are vague but what is there to know. The bitter truth is that a beloved son is gone and his mother is broken; the details of the act are irrelevant. There will be talk but we must remember that we can never measure another person's pain; know their inner turmoil.

I never met Tracey as a man, but I met him as a small boy and I can clearly see his face when I close my eyes. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare to bury a child. We would gladly go first to spare ourselves this anguish.

I feel useless. There is no comfort to offer, no amount of sympathy or I'm sorry will ease this pain. I can’t know how she feels, I can’t offer words of solace, words are hollow and without form, they can’t fill the black abyss.

Some say those who kill themselves are selfish. They don’t think of anyone but themselves. I personally don’t believe this to be true. We know nothing of another person’s pain. If they are suffering enough to contemplate leaving this mortal coil, how can it be selfish to want release, search for peace? One thing is for sure. No matter how close our relationships are, we never truly know what is in another person’s heart or in their thoughts.

Suicide leaves a painful imprint on those left behind. They have to pick up the pieces and deal with the aftermath, ask questions that may not have answers, suffer the total and utter helplessness of an aching heart. There is now another glass in the world that will always remain half empty no matter how many tears pour into it.

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Eye Candy Friday!

6/20/2015

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I'm just starting to catch my breath from the last two weeks. I'm behind in my blogging and picture posting but I'll catch up! We had unexpected company from British Columbia. Sad circumstances for them, a funeral on this coast, but it was nice catching up with friends we don’t see as much as we’d like too. We've been working around chaos in the shop blah blah. Hubby is preparing to leave to get our boat from NL so I'm running around like a chicken with a missing head.....my brain is working on par with that as well.....

The shop has been busy with a lot of accidental rug enthusiasts finding our door while others are on a planned sojourn to the store. We need a swinging door....two van loads came from Ohio, a group from Economy and then three gals from New York, a woman from Cape Cod. Hooking tourists are in the building!

Last Wednesday Deb, Gregg and reworked the shop to accommodate a hook-in with our New York hooking friends. Considering all the mess around here we made a purse out of a sow’s ear, served great nibbles and lots of laughter to make them feel welcome. Thank-you to all the Main Street Hookers that came out to join us. A special thank-you to Lorraine for her plate of yummy Railroad cookies and delicious strawberries. We had peanut butter balls, cinnamon rolls and chocolate brownies. Everyone left a few pounds heavier but I think happy!

Heather took them to a rug show in the Fisheries Museum and for a bit of Lunenburg sightseeing and then later that evening they came to the house for a wine and cheese to meet some of our hooking gals that have to work during the day. then they drove back to their hotel as the sun set. A whirlwind day for us all!

A great idea. Roll your cut strips into balls. They look fabulous on a coffee table!

Hubby arranged a great bouquet of lilacs for our table.

Only fudge is sweeter than Armenia! She loves hooking her Twenty-five Shades of Grey.

We now have this delightful pattern available to sell. We call it "Westie". Linda does a great job on her pillows! click this link to view the details. http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/signature-designs.html

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Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.....

6/19/2015

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Believe me when I tell you I’ve been trying hard to be positive about the condition of the shop. I don't want to be whining and negative and I've all but bit my tongue off gritting my teeth!   The law of attraction states if you complain that something is bad, you get more of it, so I’ve been thinking positive thoughts, hoping and praying they'll come back to finish the job.

But I’m failing. Positivity isn’t helping.   The only thing that will work at this point is to weld a hod and a trowel and do it myself, I’m spiteful enough to do it although it might cut off my nose in the process. I have a store to run, product to make and a rich home life that fills my time up to 1:00 am, I can't squeeze another hour out of my day!

So the shop is not ready for the workshop this weekend. I warned them two months ago that June 20 and the 21st there will be a workshop and things have to be in order. Two months, and they are still taping and spreading spackle. My shop is coated with white dust, ground into the rugs. The mud guys promised to be back Wednesday to finish that job so they could sand and have the place primed by Friday, giving us time to clean and organize all the chaos by Saturday. The big boss said tough and hauled them away to go elsewhere. They’ve been working 500 claims. I was told today that they were now finished all the other jobs and I asked in my most incredulous voice, "You mean I’m last?" I was told yes. Now I'm fuming. The mudder apologized and said he thought I should have been finished first because of the condition of the shop and trying to run a business. Maybe I should have screamed more, but it’s too late for second guessing and I’m pissed!
So the plan of action is to write a letter to the insurance company. I’m not paying the deductible. My business has been compromised in many ways, there’s shoddy workmanship, you would not believe the cut corners and poor excuses for work that I will have to live with. We've suffered through the stench of open walls and mold, then the smell of insulation and now mudding. They don't even clean up after themselves. All the construction dirt ground into my tiles, scratched and coming up along the wall. Who will be fixing that problem?...Me!

The woman who came to pack up the shop ruined books, she put them in a box so the ends were bent, stuff all over the place. I can’t find a thing. I've lost it twice now, almost moved to tears from the frustration. And I risk stepping on nails as I maneuver my feet around the baseboards and trim to get to the boxes for supplies, three inch spikes waiting to rip at my ankles and puncture through the bottom of my footwear. They removed the woodwork and didn’t bother taking out the nails and left it all piled on the floor, half of which are scratching the heck out of my black and white tiles and the rest are facing up, waiting for a misplaced step to create a bloody mess, literally! I bitched today and the two mudders took pity on me and moved the wood to a safer spot. We still have more crack filling and sanding, then the priming and painting and all the woodwork needs to go back on and get painted. That will be more weeks of hell! and if I'm the last job, all the men will go back to Ontario and Quebec, leaving a skeleton crew to work. The words I'd like to type are horrid, they'd embarass a pirate!

So this weekend, we'll have to run the workshop downstairs while customers come and go, the cash register clanging all day long, (Saturday’s are usually busy) the noise from the traffic if the door is open and we’ll have to get creative to put up marker boards and cork boards for displays. We can do it with a lot of effort, moving furniture and scouring the front of the shop so no one's arse turns white from dust. I'm sure everyone will says it’s okay but we shouldn’t have too. It's been two months to do a job that should have taken a week and it's no where near completed, i predict a third month will sail by before I see the last of them. We've had to use expensive electric heat these past two months because the less expensive heat pump has been removed so they can repair the walls. On hot sticky days we've suffered without the air conditioner and those days the shop reeks like a dank basement, so great for business!   Shane's been complaining the wool doesn't dry overnight because of all the moisture in the air from the mudding as it cures.

We pay a lot of insurance for this building and they have us bundled for our home and car. We are long term customers, we don’t deserve to be treated this way. If we can’t reach a compromise, they obviously don’t want our business, we’ll go elsewhere. I need placating big time! Enough is enough! It’s time to crap or get off the pot! I have the gloves on and I’m ready! Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee!

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Just in....new colours of Sari Silk!

6/19/2015

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From left to right:
Neptune, Calypso, Cerulean, Hydrangea, Moss, Honey, Flame, Gypsy, Berry, Voodoo, Pewter, Espresso - $9.95 each. Some colours have limited quantities

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Don't judge this book by its cover......

6/17/2015

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We all find our bliss in different ways. Mine is sitting on the back deck, the sun dancing on my face while overlooking the gardens I’ve nurtured since moving to this property in 1999.   I’ve created rock walks and flower beds and among my favourites, a full array of aromatic peony bushes and lilies of every colour, shape and size. You haven’t seen real beauty until you look into heart of a Star Gazer Lily or a large Goliath red poppy. It’s perfection.....shear perfection!

This year my gardens seem even more beautiful.   Maybe being older I can appreciate their essence more as my own beauty begins to crumble and fade. Like all my kin that have gone before me, I'm next in line to wither on the vine. I don’t mind this new stage, I’m comfortable with my outer shell not matching the still youthful core. I’m content in so many ways because again allows freedom. In fact I become better as each year passes. Why, by the time I reach 80 I’ll be darn near perfect.

The older I get the more maintenance free I become and I celebrate not having to work so hard on my exterior. Someone said the other day, "So-in-so’s fingernails look so lovely, why don’t I ever make time to go to salons to have it done". I spoke up, "Because you run a business and have a hectic life, it’s far too much work to maintain and too time consuming". There are so many other things worth your time than painting fingernails and toenails. An unnatural, artificial beauty that only lasts a short time, I don’t get the point, never have, maybe it's the higher levels of testosterone in me, I don't get the girlie desires to look pretty. I admire it on my friends, just don't see it on me. My French Tips are the flowers in my garden, seeing the fresh clip of my poodles and the polished silver teapot.

Maybe if I was on the prowl for man or a Hollywood bell I’d partake in the beauty regime, but I’m a spoken for, content gal in a small town, no pressure there to perform miracles with my appearance. I've tired of worrying about fading lips and spots that appear out of nowhere to take up permanent residence on my skin. Tired of thinking about the wrinkles around my eyes and the wattle under my chin. I've excepted it, embraced it, I'm comfortable wearing purple; life is far too short to fret and place effort on things I cannot change.

In the circle of life, I’m past the middle point. I’m hoping for a 360 finish but I know the end is inevitable somewhere along the curve and I won't fight a battle I can’t win. I’ll go gracefully into the dark night as naturally as the day I was born although missing tonsils and ovaries, but there won't be any nips and tucks and I’ll wear the spots as badges of honour. Truthfully I’m more at peace than I have ever been and welcome this new freedom. Don’t worry, I’ll still look presentable and clean and I'll always like a bit of lipstick, but the worries of someone's opinion of me is over. It's really none of my business what you think of me anyway.

I won’t ever wear sweat pants although a comfortable elastic waistband is acceptable. The goal is all about comfort with heels that don’t hurt my feet and are wide enough that my toes can wiggle. I’ve lost the desire to impress; I no longer care if I’m judged. A met a woman in Save Easy today and as we spoke she swept her eyes disapprovingly over my attire, from neck to shoes. It was done slickly, a well-honed up and down bow of the head, the eyes never even attempted to hide the disapproval before them. In my youth I would have wilted under her gaze but now it made me smile. I thought, you silly woman. I would never do that kind of catty, vertical dissection to another woman. I’m not dead, I like to look at what others wear, but it can be done without a jeering roll of the eye as if seeing something repulsive. Woman can be very hard on one another. It’s foolish really. What’s in my head is far more current and stylish than what I wear on my back, if you judge me by what hangs in my closet you’ll miss out on knowing the real me.....and at the risk of sounding conceited, I think that might be your loss.....

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This weed gets my goat!

6/16/2015

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A few weeks ago I’m at the airport picking up hubby and listening to CBC radio while waiting for the call to drive up to the arrival area to pick him up. We have this thing where I wait at Tim Horton's parking lot and he calls that he’s landed and has his suitcase off the carousel. We started doing this when I used to take the pups along for the ride and didn’t want to leave them in the car because it was either too hot or too cold and then there’s the worry of someone stealing my precious babies. When my pups are with me, I never park anywhere unless I can see the vehicle from where I intend to go. The airport changed the rules and doesn't allow dogs unless they are working ones. I don’t think I could pass off wearing shades with four seeing eye poodles.

I mind paying for parking, walking a mile to the arrivals area and then waiting in the crowds, especially if the plane is late. This way I sit in the comfort of the car, seat back for a little nap instead of standing with a throng of strangers complaining about the delays.   If we were younger and his coming home was more of an endorphin rush, well maybe I’d be inclined to wait with the masses to catch the first glance of him descending the stairs so I can see his face light up when he sees me.....ah...those were the days.... We kinda feel as old as crap and we’ve done it so many times that it’s no biggy. He’s home, he’s safe, what more could we want!

So I’m listening to this gal rag on and on about something called Goat Weed. It’s infiltrated her garden to the point where she is at war trying to beat the enemy back across the property line. She’s pulled it and dug in the ground for the roots, even burned it with a torch but it barely ruffles the leaves of this tenacious weed.   She’s angry that it has taken over her garden, ruining any chance of sharing the fruits of her labour because she’s worried she’ll accidentally hand over a small piece of root that will infect another garden with the vicious interloper. I’m thinking, boy this weed must be awful! I have similar problem I’ve been battling for years that if I don’t weed constantly it creates a total ground cover but I've not lost my mind over it. I yank it all summer but it keeps popping up here and there and luckily, because it's a shade lover my other gardens are saved from its squatting.

With time to kill, and my curiosity peeked as the interview droned on, I had to see what this scourge looked like. It was painted as evil, I needed to see the face of this green devil that surely had horns and fangs, so I got out my IPhone and looked it up. I actually laughed out loud when I discovered the variegated nightmare staring me in the face was the same pain in the arse weed I’d been battling. So now it had a name, "Goat Weed", the bane of her existence was also the bane of mine. This weed was so infamous, it actually managed to get time on the radio.

Then it hit me. I'd been wrongly optimistic for years....I would never win the battle. Only old fashioned hand weeding will offer a temporary reprieve. It will come back time and again like a well thrown boomerang.   It's a beautifully, variegated soft green and white, so I thought I would meet it half way and allow a manicured small patch to stay, that way we can both gain a little ground in this battle for territory. This Goat Weed might get my goat, but I’ll take it by the horns and beat it back on my terms.

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Update but not much progress......

6/12/2015

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Shane is back to work and we pushed one stove back in place to be able to dye wool. They are sill mudding. This is what took a month and a half to do and is no where near finished.

The other day I got a bit sassy with the project manager of the shop rebuild that’s been lingering like a bad smell. The work ethic is lost in the plaster dust. If the guys they send are seasoned or at least knowledgeable carpenters why is the one guy explaining how to insulate to keep the R factor, not compressing it too much between the studs? Why is there a 101 lesson on how to set a gyprock screw and they still can't get it right?   These young boys look like they might still be in high school. My mothering instincts make me want to feed and burp them. I asked a few questions….have you done this before and I’m told yes, one time, and that was probably on the job they did yesterday. I don’t expect expert work after one experience but I am curious if these novices are being billed to the insurance company as fully fledged carpenters.

You don’t need a Masters to cut out, hang and screw in drywall but the basics would be beneficial. So I took one of them under my wing in the kitchen and gave them a little pep talk.   Most drywallers use a dimpler attachment for their drill so it sets the screw the perfect depth. These guys aren’t dry wall hangers or they’d come equipped with the proper tools. If you screw it in too deep and it will tear the paper and won’t hold. Too shallow and the screw head will stick out too far to mud. I saw a lot of hand screwing after the drilling to set the heads a bit deeper, doing the job twice is a waste of money and time!     I also explained how to position gyprock to the wall around woodwork. Simple, common sense instructions that they should know if they’re doing the work!

After the past couple of days I’m about ready to blow! I am not one to sit by and allow shoddy work to be passed off as correct. I’m about as straight as a toothpick, there is no flexing or bending around corners.   Let me explain a typical day. Let’s use last Wednesday. They tell me to be here at 9:00 and yes I was a bit late at 9:10 and I saw them leaning up against the building puffing on ciggies. They don’t come through the door until 9:20 and saunter in with a casual air, no rush to work cause now it’s time to socialize inside, a lot like the chatting outside, and definitely not work related.   When they do allow work to enter into the conversation they actually talk more about it than actually doing it.   Work started about 9:50. Then of course it’s break time at 10:00, the place clears out and there is silence again and more ciggies. The break can be anywhere from 15 minutes to 30, depending on how many smokes are needed. Then it was more talking, the one guy is a blowhole, likes the sound of his own voice, is loud and uninteresting in his attempt to impress the younger kids with his suave, man about town swagger. He told a story that was offensive but I kept my head down, I could have said something to the boss but I don’t want trouble, just do the friggin work and get the heck out of my life. I don’t have a prejudice bone in my body but my head isn’t in the sand, I know racism it exists, but I pick and choose my battles, confronting this person wouldn’t have changed his mind and I don’t need attitude while they work.

So they talk more than work, ran out of insulation and then stood around talking until more arrived. I’m no rocket scientist, but figuring out how much insulation needed is all about straight math. You have so measure the height by the width of the walls that need to be covered and then you should know, if not from experience then from reading the bag as to how far one bale will go. Don’t guess, drop a few bags off and then leave them twiddling thumbs until more arrive. Then they didn’t have tuck tape.   Really? How are they supposed to tape the vapour barrier? It’s almost a comic routine. Instead of their company name, First On Site, it should be Who’s On First! I could manage this project and still do my job in the store, bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan, cause I’m a wo-MAN!

Then the application. Hanging gyprock isn’t difficult but you do have to think a bit about how to minimize the wastage.   The long vertical sides have a bevel so when you use tape and apply the Durabond and then the Sandable 90 it’s pretty much flush. They installed a piece of gyprock or sheet rock as some call it, not behind the sink cupboard but let it come down on top of the backsplash top. All they had to do was pull out the cupboard that was not attached and slip it down behind like the way it was before. The best part, the part that I will snigger over for days, the part that doesn’t lose its laughability is when I told the guy that it needed to be redone properly and why, his response? “Who told you that?”     (And because I can’t show his intonation, he clearly meant, “Did your husband or some man tell you that?”

Excuse me….who told me? What do you mean who told me?” It was so asinine I wanted to laugh in his general direction. Any moron would know it’s done incorrectly! You can’t put the jagged, cut edge of the sheet rock on the top edge of the backsplash! It needs to be placed behind the counter. Period! There was no way to finish it, and we use a lot of water in the kitchen with pots splashing all over the place, that’s why it’s called a backsplash, it gets wet…..the gyprock wouldn’t last a week!    Then he says……”we can run a bit of caulking along the top of the backslash”.

Sigh…..

So I said, “Change it”, in my best, no nonsense, don’t mess with me voice. A few minutes later the big boss arrived, perhaps summoned by the irate guy I just pissed off, really….a woman telling a man what to do…..what’s this world coming too!

So I told the top cheese the problem, he took one look and shook his head. I got the feeling he’s seen more of this kind of thing then he’d like to admit. He told the guys to fix it and then said his guy shouldn’t have been rude to me, but I explained he wasn’t really rude, that he was condescending.   Thought I was some bimbo that should be seen and not heard.

After that the talky guy was quiet, which was the best outcome ever. I hardly heard him speak all day about his personal life. A win win for all. But, at the end of the day, after telling them not to close in my office doorway with sheets of gyprock so I could get in and out, they piled it ten sheets deep.  It is difficult to believe anyone could be that stupid so I’m thinking it was pure spite. Maybe talky guy felt he got the last word.

Like I said before, I might not be a rocket scientist but I think through all aspects of any job, to minimize mistakes and make the job go faster. Maybe I need to quit the rug hooking business and set myself up as a project manager. There seems to be a real need for good, knowledgeable people!   At least I’d make sure my people work their 7-8 hours so no one gets ripped off. Wednesday they worked the job no more than 2 hours and worked their jaws for five.

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What have I been up too?

6/11/2015

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I haven’t been skiving off! I’ve been working harder than I have in a long time. I'm hosting a bridal tea party for my daughter-in-law to be this weekend, and there is no shortage of work to be done. I’ve been painting wicker furniture, the trim on the house, cleaning windows, gardening, paint touch-ups in the house, polishing silver, making lists, checking them thrice, then making new lists.

As for the shower itself, I’ve only ever been to one and that was decades ago and I didn’t pay particular attention to how things are run so I’m a fish out of water. I tried looking up a plan for a party but they don’t go into details as to timing….when the presents are opened, when the games are played, when to chow down, so I’m making my own plan. I know Ashley will love whatever I do but if anyone isn’t happy with the results, I did it my way so take the highway…..

There is a lot of planning and executing details. The menu, it’s a tea party, basically a luncheon, so I’ve planned the menu to include sandwiches, potato salad, ham, cheeses, shrimp cocktail, various fruit dishes, deviled eggs, punch, wine, tea of course, squares, butter tarts and so on. I’m hoping to score a heart shaped cookie cutter to make fancy sandwiches, the theme after all is love. Tomorrow is shopping day for napkins and decorations and then a trip to the city on Saturday for the cake and last minutes items.

Today I’m in the shop making bling for prizes and gifts. A few pairs of earrings and a necklace or two will use up some of the beads I’ve been hoarding. Then home for more painting and silver polishing.

Yesterday I scraped, primed and painted all the wicker furniture that has been sadly neglected. It looks better than new and should give us another decade of sitting out on the back deck. There is something about white wicker that pulls from my past. I think one of my grandmothers’s had a piece that ingrained the love for white wicker. I'm a messy painter, even the pups have dots of white on their backs and my forearms and hands are splattered to the point where I wonder if I'll ever get it all off, but I'm happy as a clam.

I also designed and had made a backing plate for the house numbers I purchased last year so that is now scratched off my list of things to do. I drew a sketch of what I wanted and Steve Scott worked his magic. After a couple of coats of high gloss red it’s definitely an eye catcher. Boy, it’s amazing what you can do in a few days when people are coming over, all the jobs that lingered for years are being finished in a short time. Better late than never and then we’ll be good for the rest of the summer and sailing!

So I haven’t been to work much but I’ve left the shop in good hands. Shane is back from his surgery and although he is taking it easy he can assist customers. Deb is amazing and I have full confidence in her.   With the both of them in the shop I have full confidence that everything will be right as rain.

I’ve been digging in the gardens like mad. I won’t have them all done, my body aches to the core so it’s slow moving, but there is enough done to show off the potential. I lost of few bushes and plants from the harsh winter so I’ve purchased replacements and I’m sticking them in the ground. Shopping for flowering shrubs and plants is a chore when the main question “Is this deer food?” dictates what you can buy. Unfortunately most of the pretty scrubs are very attractive to the four legged diners that treat my gardens like a four star restaurant and I’m not prepared to build an eight foot fence just yet.

I’ll keep picking away at the gardens in the coming weeks. I start at one end and by the time I get through it all I have to start back at the beginning as the weeds sneak up behind my back and laugh in my general direction.

I will admit I am at the peak of happiness. I love playing in the earth and painting, being in my home during the day. If this is what retirement feels like I better get back to work so those thoughts go away. The weather is perfect right now. Beautifully breezy, just the right temperature for sitting outside sipping ice tea on the back deck watching the sailboats rush by.

Hubby did a great job hanging the plaque and Honey thinks it looks great! What a team!

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Colour planning....easier than you think!

6/2/2015

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Arabesque 33 1/2" x 46"
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/new-designs.html

Some will look at this new design and think....Wow, my next project...while others will think;

I love it but I could never hook it!

It’s way above my skill level!

It’s too big!

It’s way too complicated!

Yuck...fine cut!

I could never colour plan a piece like that!

It scares me!

Let me try to dispel some of these adverse thoughts, break it down so the task of hooking this beautiful design isn’t daunting.

I always find assisting a customer colour plan their project an education in itself. It usually begins with the comment “I’m not very good at selecting colours” and ends with, “That was easier than I thought!”

I have a standard comment for any hesitation. “Every morning you get dressed is an exercise in colour planning…and from the fashion show I’m seeing strut through my door, it looks like you’re quite proficient at it.”    Putting together the outfit that will represent your style and taste comes as second nature. You mix and match compatibles, you know what looks good together, it’s instinct, so why is the process any different when it comes to rug hooking? Think of your next project as dressing the rug, getting it ready to greet the public. It might shave a bit of the uncertainty off the anxious edge.

If you can pull yourself together to look like a page from a catalog in smart and sassy outfits, (my customers are all well-dressed gals) complete with bling accents, you can colour plan a rug. Sure, there is trial and error, just like dressing, taking pieces out of your closet to see how they work together but in the end the decision is always clear.

Sometimes, after the colour conversation is over and we’ve landed on the final palette, I point out the customer’s attire and find the colours we chose match perfectly to their clothing. We laugh at the irony of it all. Yes, it can be that simple.

It’s no secret; we tend to gravitate toward colours we love. For me personally, I make no bones about my passion for the primaries. Anything with Red, Blue or Yellow is tops with me, but I do like to challenge myself using colours I’m less intimate with, colours out of my comfort range for the education it allows. That’s why I love the Initially Yours patterns as they push me outside my comfort zone into foreign territory, a journey that ends with discovering a new and exciting destination.

The only way to grow and broaden our sense of colour is to experiment, not be afraid to try…..embracing the challenge instead of shying away and worrying about failure. There is no right or wrong, if the colours are what we love, if we are happy, who should judge.

Being too anal is problematic, fretting over what our friends think and worried of unsolicited comments can be a real concern, but really, the old adage “you have to please yourself” should be your only thought as you move ahead. Yes, some colours don’t play well together but I’ve experienced enough angst over the years as rug hooker’s come into the shop saying, there’s something not quite right, or I’m not happy with it but don’t know why, to know that you certainly have a “gut guide” when something isn’t quite right. Sometimes you need a bit of assistance because you’re too close to the project to maybe see the whole picture clearly, but there are friends and teachers and shop owners that are always happy to help. Any problem can be fixed with a new perspective and a bit of tearing out.

Don’t get too hung up on colour. Try to think more like Mother Nature, she doesn’t worry about colour combinations. Take a field of wild flowers, she sprinkles an unlimited palette and the blooms all dance together in the breeze without a care. Don’t get too hung up, sometimes the fear of the challenge can prevent you from having a very pleasing experience. Jump in and get your feet wet, you’ll be surprised what a rewarding experience taking that chance can bring. The thrill that you accomplished a masterpiece on your own, or with a bit of help is stimulating.

Believe it or not, this pattern “Arabesque” is actually simple.   Any repeat design is almost mechanical once the colour palette is chosen. It’s all laid out before you so you don’t have to make decisions along the way. In this particular piece there are only two different motifs to plan. The scalloped, roundish design and the smaller triangle shape.

There is little background in this pattern which is usually what most will view the tedious part, the part that seems to go on and on after all the exciting stuff is done.   Personally I like backgrounds, especially at a hook-in situation where I like to chat more than worry about colour placement and loop formation. There isn’t one boring element to this design and there are many different ways to enhance it with colour so no two finished rugs would ever be the same.

Although this rug could be fabulous with a palette of many colours, it can also stand proudly with very few. I worked out a scenario with a minimum of five, and coloured it on the computer after getting it to print in a black and grey format. It’s a bit messy but you can see the intention of the placement. The background is of course too dark to put in colour but imagine a lovely antique red or even black to punch out the other lively colours everywhere you see the darkish grey. Using more colours you can plan the backgrounds of each of these motifs to be different to create a pattern inside the pattern. The possibilities and combinations are endless.

For some who like to see a pattern hooked before they attempt it, that first person has all the pressure. All those that follow have it easy. You may see a different vision for your rug, maybe not like one or more of the colour choices, but you can simply substitute them with ones you love. I call this colour selection method “Substitute Colour Planning”. If the rug hooker chose a purple that you aren’t a fan of, every time you see purple substitute it for a colour you love, say red. Maybe they have orange, use yellow. Switch out all the colours you don’t prefer for those that match the area the rug will live in, putting your personal stamp on the rug while making it coordinate with its surroundings.   This is easier than getting out the coloured pencils and paper to work out different scenarios and is the simplest way to colour plan without working from scratch.

And for those who don’t prefer fine cut hooking, this rug would be fabulous with #3, #4, #5 or #6 cuts. Go as fine as you like or pump it up a bit coarser.   Some might like to outline all of the motifs in a #3 cut as is done in Oriental rugs or you can make the colours contrasting enough that each choice can lay beside each another and not be overwhelmed by little contrast.

So are you ready to take on this hot new design? If you need help colour planning let me know what colours you prefer and I can help you place them. I had limited choice to use for this feeble attempt to colour it in, but the intent was to show you that it can be hooked using a minimal amount of colour. In this scenario only four colours are used for the motifs and then a background colour would count for number five.

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My home is my castle....do I need a moat?

6/1/2015

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My home is my castle, my sanctuary, a place I can let my hair down, literally. A place where I don’t have to wear makeup, a place where I can walk around outside in my nightie any time I please.   We aren’t all cookie cutter the same. I don’t have to be to work until 10:00. Most of you have been to work and are on a coffee break by then.   I can lounge around a bit in the mornings, rise and go outside with the pups in comfort, not worrying about having to fix myself up. We live where we are for the privacy, in town I’d have to chance being seen and our backyard is far enough from the road that a glimpse of me from a passing car won’t show my red face, hairy legs and whether or not I’m braless. It’s liberating to be in the yard unfussed and carefree. It’s my little piece of the planet where I can be natural and safe from prying eyes.

Saturday morning I was outside while the pups had their morning pee. It’s a lovely day, the birds are chirping and it’s already shirt sleeve temperatures. I’m gazing at my lovely lilac bush, heaven laden with flowers this year and the aroma is wafting through the air. I close my eyes and draw in a long breath filling my lungs with its sweet essence. When I open them, I’m appalled to see a strange man walking up the driveway towards me. Generally this means meter reading or fund raising and it being the weekend it was probably a solicitation for one cause or another.

How quickly the peace and tranquility of my world changed. There aren’t enough words to describe the gripping horror of being seen without makeup, my thin hair wild and crazy from a night of tossing and turning and a nightie several inches above the knee showing my spindly, unshaven gams (it's not capri season yet), naked as the day I was born underneath. I was simply mortified and with nowhere to duck and hide I screamed bloody murder.

“GO AWAY, I’M NOT DRESSED!!” I flee to the house for cover, hanging on to my bouncing chest to minimize the flopping under the nighty. Of course my pups see the man, who I might add was middle aged and rather good looking, and Henri and Honey run toward the guy barking their arses off. I’m demanding they follow me to the house in a voice several decibels above eardrum piercing. They rush to the edge of the lawn barking at the guy who is probably stunned from the three ring circus, but I have no time to look in his direction as my goal is to dart to the deck and get to cover as if escaping mortar fire. I know he had to hear me, and after it registered he had to see my disheveled hair, the short nightie, not quite baby doll length but there was thigh showing. At his age he must have come across women and their crazy vanity before, surely he understood the angst!

I made it to the door, two of the pups followed me inside and I screamed for the other two that finally responded after screeching a string of “Comes!” loud enough to be heard over the barking. Now inside, I’m breathing like I finished a marathon, clutching the door for support! MY heart was racing and anger was building, annoyed beyond belief that my peaceful morning was shattered. I wouldn’t have reacted any differently if carnivorous aliens were descending on the property licking their lips at the sight of us.

This is my home. I shouldn’t have to be on guard on my own property. Solicitors, stay the #*%^#$@ away! Its bad enough I have to watch out for coyotes and bald eagles, good looking men shouldn’t be a threat to my personal space. Indignant, I slammed the door shut sending a message to not dare proceed to my step and ring the bell. To sum up, half of me felt assaulted in my own yard by the man’s presence, by his eyes. The other half of me felt sorry for him. I found out later a crew was out collecting for the Food Bank.  For goodness sake, set up at the Save Easy, I’ll gladly cut a cheque....please don’t intrude on my private life! I'm not one of those glam gals who lie around the house looking fabulous. Ninety-nine percent of the time I look like crap, surely this is common, surely I'm not the only one unprepared for unwanted solicitations?

I rushed to the front window and saw the guy hoof down the driveway shaking his head. The dogs had been in the middle of their morning eliminations so we went back outside and I kept a careful eye to make sure he didn’t return. That’s when I noted a silver car go slowly by and recognized the man behind the wheel, he was looking up at me and pointing saying something to the person in the passenger seat and I could imagine that he was asking if they knew the crazed, mentally challenged, half naked, scabby faced woman glaring back at them.

I can be social when the conditions are right but when I’m caught unprepared I can be a frantic loon. I am not comfortable being seen with my oily, red skinned face, unmanageable thinning hair and untethered boobs on a mission to sag to my bellybutton.   I have problem skin, red and blotchy and I have no delusions of my appearance in the morning. Only my hubby and eventually the undertaker will see the natural me and apologies to that guy well in advance. So yes, I acted demented but I won’t apologize. Entering my yard unannounced is risky business. Maybe I need to put a sign at the end of the driveway warning “Beware”, not because of the dogs, because if you catch me in this state, I might have to kill you.....

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