Blog Archives

Silk Scarves by Shane

6/30/2017

Last year I ordered a couple dozen natural, silk scarves intending to dye them for the shop. Non rug hooking customers come in all the time and ask if the wool on our racks can be used for scarves, albeit winter ones. Our wool is beautiful and people can visualize it around their necks so the idea was formed. But then the silk was put in the cupboard and you know how it goes, out of sight and all, they slipped my mind.

So I was delighted when I arrived at work the other day and Shane was in the process of bringing them to life with colour. He tried different techniques from shaking dry dye powder over wet silk, to dipping and spotting. Each method created a different pattern with scrumptious colour ranging from soft pastels to intense and vibrant richness. My absolute favourite is the one dyed with the formula for Razzle Dazzle. I’ve read if you want to soften your look and be ultra feminine, wear pink.

So we now have a line of beautiful silk scarves ready for purchase and there will be more on the way. This is just the beginning.

Each scarf will be a one of a kind for the individual that you are.

Happy customer all the way from Golden, BC

The scarves come in two sizes and pricing.

The larger, 14” x 72” is priced $39.95.
The smaller, 8” x 54” is priced $24.95.

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Change the colour, change the story....

6/29/2017

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I would like to share a story prompted by an email from a customer who sent us a picture of her hooked footstool top. Clearly, in the picture to the left, this is a scene of Lunenburg, NS with its iconic red harbourfront buildings, as recognizable as Elvis.

The customer adapted the pattern into a stool cover by squaring off the top curve. Instead of the traditional red buildings of Lunenburg she vamped the design by selecting other colours, bringing a whole new feel to the pattern. Suddenly it had international appeal, represented any fishing village along the eastern seaboard, a quaint harbour in Newfoundland, a small inlet of Nova Scotia, a coastal scene from Maine, many countries in the world could boast such a lovely harbour.

Hooking is like baking, give the same recipe to 10 people and every dish will have a different flavour. Thank goodness as this makes our world a more interesting place. The same is true with rug hooking. A pattern given to 10 rug hookers will tell 10 different stories. Over the years, I have noticed that some people find it difficult to recognize an unhooked pattern on the rack from the finished rug on the wall and sometime if the picture has a different colour plan it can be confusing as well. Colour is a huge influence, pulling from our memories past experiences. We react the same way to visual stimuli as we would respond to a pleasant scent, a piece of music. Red may represent the dress that a favorite aunt used to wear. Yellow can be the blond girl that stared back at you in the mirror. Pink, the dominant colour of the floral wallpaper at grandma's house. Green, a blanket you suckled as a small child. Memory and past experiences influence all aspects of our lives.

Colour is so personal. We wear it every day. We choose our clothes, gravitating toward certain favourite colours time and time again. Through experience, I believe that people buy rugs because of the colour first and the composition second. Probably the same is true for paintings. I ask rug purchasers what attracted them to a piece they admired on the wall and "the colours" is the usual answer. We anal types like our art to fit our homes, not clash and stand like a sore thumb. We are attracted to what is familiar. We paint our walls and decorate our interiors first and then pick accents that hold hands while skipping down the same path.

An interesting observation I'd like to share. When customers come in the shop for colour planning a new project, they may not be sure where to begin, so we work together until we whittle it down to what pleases their eye. Time and time again I have to laugh, and let them know that we have decided on the same colours that they are wearing that day. They look down at their clothing and smile as the realization hits them. I boost customer confidence by telling them they colour plan every day. They dress themselves in coordinating outfits. Look at your rug as if you are dressing your body, it may help remove the apprehension out of the experience.

I am told by a lot of rug hookers that colour planning is daunting.  But remember, you aren't out on a limb without assistance....believe it or not your palette is partially chosen for you. Most of the rugs we hook are for our homes so if this next project is slated for the living room, draw on the colours in the curtains, the sofa, the throw cushions and carpet. There is no need to stress, your colour palette is being handed to you on a silver platter, reach out and grab it! Look at your surroundings and invite those colours in. Your home, the proverbial nest, is a representation of your favorite colours so run with it.

Tip: If you need help to dye the wool for your next heirloom, gather paint chips and samples of your upholstery and head to your closest rug studio to use as a guideline for them to create your colours or dive into the dye pot and create them yourself.   Don't try to be too matchy, matchy, colours blend beautifully if tonally close.  Don’t be burdened with these decisions, a little colour planning angst is okay; remember, no pressure, no diamond.

Lunenburg Cosy squared off and hooked with a totally different colour palette.
Great job Dody Conner!

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Refugee Child

6/19/2017

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By Guest Blogger Carrie Settle

I admit, when the Syrian Refugee Crisis was starting to be a crisis, I was rather unaware. My life was very full and often trying as I continued to pursue different avenues towards healing from a car accident as well as parenting 2 high needs kids. So on this particular Sunday morning at church I was unprepared for the abrupt right turn my life was about to take.

Pastor Vernon spoke of this crisis of humanity, of how as Christians its our responsibility to love others, to help, to accept, to pray, to…hook a rug? I couldn’t sit still, Pastor kept talking but the Holy Spirit was moving me towards to crayons and paper left in an area for kids… I was a kid, right? I could see blood, colors, movement but constraint, flashes of ideas and meanings. I worked for several days to get the images to come together and they were revealed through a previous artwork of a friend. I adapted his idea and shaped it to be the “Refugee Child”. It is my great hope, that you will SEE this child, that you will love him/her. For ease of typing, I will call this Child “him”.

Refugee Child is neither male nor female, white nor black, young nor old. The Child has a wrap around his head, made of the sins of others. The wrap covers his eyes so he cannot see a way out, it covers his mouth so he cannot speak to his own defense and it covers his hands, so he cannot work towards his own solution. His knee is skinned…he bleeds just like us. He is trapped in a box of public opinion, each separate piece of wool representing a separate idea on what should be done about him…dark, heavy wool for dark, heavy ideas. Only when grace is given, love shared and mercy shown, will the bonds holding this child be broken and light shine through.

Refugee Child is not a nameless, faceless one of “them” from far away. But for the grace of your birthplace this Child could be yours. Your son. Your daughter. Your grandchild. Your neighbor. Your spouse. Please don’t leave him in the box.

Blessings,
Carrie Settle
Dorchester, NB

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Two more Nautical Riser patterns available.

6/19/2017

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I’m continuing to design more of the Nautical Stair Risers and competed two this weekend. This time there is a Kraken and Alphabet Signal Flags (and a partially finished Stylized Dolphin one that is still in the works for another day).

A Kraken is a mythical creature so I’m assuming I can hook it in any colour I choose and I choose red. Although there really is an East Pacific Red Octopus, I really like the name Kraken. I like to say it; it flows off my tongue just so. I’m really looking forward to hooking this one, shading it to bring it to life. Red is the theme throughout the rug collection to make it cohesive in my stairwell and hooking my Kraken red will really give him a masterful presence; he might even steal the show of the other 14 risers around him. We’ll see.

Of course I want to dive in and hook the new ones; the most exciting pattern in the stash is always the latest, but I have to discipline myself and finish the one on the go now, The Waves, and because they both share the same colours, I then have to hook its counterpart, The Wind. I hate reigning myself in when a pattern is so thrilling to begin, but I know I’ll end up with four rugs in various stages of completion and that’s just more hair falling out. That’s why I planned to design and hook one at a time for this project, but some eager beavers asked for more and I like to oblige so I'll keep pumping out the patterns.

The signal flags were tedious mathematical witches to draw. There are 26 blocks, 13 per line and of course measuring the space and dividing by how many blocks were needed, nothing worked out evenly so I had to add a bit here and there to fill in the space. Even at close scrutiny you can hardly tell which blocks are a bit wider and which are not, but that took some doing. Let’s just say a lot of eraser rubber was on the counter and the floor.

I was pretty elated when I figured out how to colour in the signal flags. In a black and white drawing it had little punch, but coloured in really shows the potential of how wonderful it will be when hooked. When using the Photoshop program, the main thing to watch for is that all the drawn lines are finished. Any gaps and the colour will bleed out into the surrounding area so I had to work at it several times to make each line embedded in another line. Then it was play time. I could have spent longer customizing the colours more like I will use to hook it, but what I see on the screen looks nothing like when it’s printed so there was really no point in trying to achieve accuracy. Of course I couldn’t shade the rope or achieve the effect of plaid on each border but like I said, it is the overall feeling I was capturing, not trying to make it look hooked. I was thinking it would be a great tool to help colour plan rugs.

So there are now 11 Nautical Riser Designs in the collection, with 9 more to do for a total of 20. I have that many in the Country Line, giving the customer plenty of choice to pick from, but not to worry, if you have more than 20 risers on your staircase, (boy that sure is a lot of climbing), I will gladly come up with a few more designs.

It's amazing what a little colour can do!

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To my DAD......

6/18/2017

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Dad, now that you are no longer with me, Father's day is just another day. There will be no card, gift, phone call or visit again this year; all that will be are memories. Since your passing, the years are flying by, speeding up and gathering momentum. You’ve been gone so long it pains me to think of the time we’ve not had together.

I miss you! I miss your quirks and that funny sound you always made with your mouth, as if pushing air up and out, from deep within your throat. It sounded like “quick, quick”, a unique noise; I’ve not heard it before or since.

I saved your answering machine message tape, perhaps I’ll dig it out and listen to your voice, “Hi this is Earle, I can’t come to the phone right......”.   Such a standard reply, but your voice makes it so special; there is a musicality to it with an underlying rumble of laughter.    I miss that.

I tried to keep a piece of you with me, something tangible that I could hold, so I saved one of your Old Spice, infused shirts. As kids we always gave you Old Spice for Christmas, that familiar red packaging that held soap-on-a-rope and a bottle of aftershave that would last the year. Although at times you switched it up and tried to be an Aqua Velva Man, Old Spice is the one that stuck. You wore it well, it was your signature and every time I catch a whiff, I’m transported to thoughts of you. I opened a bottle at the drugstore a while ago, to sniff and recapture the memory of you. It was sweet and sour, smiling while my eyes wet around the rims.

I stored your plaid shirt in a Ziploc bag to trap and hold the scent but opening it periodically allowed the perfume to escape. Now the material smells like old plastic with a faint undercurrent of cigarette smoke. Now even that is gone.....only memories remain and sadly, those too dull with time. Only in my dreams can I keep you alive, I awake torn between happy and sad; pure elation of seeing you again and renewed grief over your loss.

I would give anything to have you back for a day; take great delight to show you the things I’ve accomplished; I know you would be proud of me, to know that your ‘Chrissy’ is doing well.

Today I miss and pay homage to my dad
Earle Leroy Veinotte
Remembered often and fondly

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Recap of our week

6/16/2017

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We saw lots of beauty this week. Here is a sample of some of the wonderful finished rugs and new designs. My world is so full of colour because of you!
You are my inspiration....

Charlene Scott's finished Celtic Greyhound.
Fabulous use of bright colour and perfect placement.

A funny to tickle the fiber artist's bone. Wool can mean
fabric or yarn so it covers the lot of us!

GEESE IN THE GARDEN, designed by me and beautifully hooked by Jean Wentzell. We made a kit for a lucky client this week. A lot of dyeing and wool but worth getting one of our quality kits.

BUTTERFLIES (Oval) Size: 27" x 35", Beautifully hooked by Doreen Burke, pattern also comes in a rectangle.

‎Susan Turnbull, Kentville, NS made a few personal changes to our design to personalize it. In time for he Canada Day 150 Birthday coming up.

I am over the moon. Yoshiho Nara from Japan, designed and sent two beautiful Christmas stocking designs for our website. She hooked this Kitty one and it is awesome! So original and beautifully hooked! Thank you so much Yoshiho!

Another little funny for the fiber art lover.

William Morris Hammersmith runner is not made into this fantastic rectangle rug. We're calling it simply Morris Hammersmith II but there is nothing simple about this design. Don't let it daunt you, once the colour plan is decided it is a repeat pattern so then it practically hooks itself! Check out all our William Morris designs by clicking this link: http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/william-morris.html

A new pattern I've been working on. It marries paisley with an Autumn harvest. I asked the folks on FB to help come up with a name and we like "ACORNUCOPEA" suggested by Sue Doughty. There are pomegranates, acorns, pumpkins, sunflowers, and all sorts of leaves. We have it in two sizes on linen. 32" x 26" - and 40" x 30"

This was the second rug I hooked 18 years ago. It was a gift for my parents-in-law.
Jim was pilot hence the Claresholm Crest in the center and the
rest was a story of their likes, loves and lives. Even in the beginning I loved the primary colours, things haven't changed.

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Tuteurs and other stuff...

6/15/2017

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I’m slowly picking away at the gardens. Rain and hot temperatures have made it a bit rough to proceed, but there will be more days of decent outside weather. The Peonies are beginning to open. This year the tall grass will help hold them up. My big headed, red poppies are also blooming between giant blades of green, if I got in there and removed all the supporting weeds and grass, they would probably fall to the ground so it’s best to wait until the flowering is done. I’ll eventually beat it all back, put down the fiber cloth and mulch and then only have to do minor maintenance in the years to come. I’ll do what I can but once the humidly kicks in I’ll be done because I move like a beached whale in the heat, and I’m twice as swollen. I become an indoor adult, like the indoor cat. Anyway, this gardening thing isn’t a race so there’s plenty of time.

I picked up my tuteurs (pronounced two-tours) last evening. Martha Stuart’s gave them this fancy handle; my wood guy calls them pyramids. Without a fence, I have clematis plants that need free standing structures to climb on. The old one that lasted 10 years had pretty much rotted into the ground, aged a lovely silver and is brittle as toast. I bought two of them as they are very pretty in the garden, like little castles. The chap that makes them only charges $35.00 and I couldn’t buy the wood and put in the time to do it cheaper with all the finicky measuring and cutting on angles. If you want one call Demont’s Woodworking in Gold River, phone 902-627-2461. He also makes a full line of lawn furniture, Adirondack chairs and tables, swings and benches, birdhouses and much more. The tuteurs were featured on a Martha Stewart show way back when and I approached the guy with a drawing of what I wanted. He made it up for me pretty swift and then other people saw mine standing in his yard waiting for pick-up and they wanted one as well.

Update - I’m making progress changing my sleep habits but I’ve slipped a few times staying up too late and then had trouble getting up in the morning but I’m down to one nap after breakfast so that’s progress! Considering I’ve been nocturnal for decades I can’t expect a miracle overnight, pardon the pun. Slow and steady will win this race.

Honey is still hanging in there. She had two fainting spells yesterday, one from rolling on a stink in the grass. She was in heaven rubbing back and forth, squirming her body all over something smelly. I wasn’t sure how excited she was on the inside so I let her play but when she stood and started wobbling I picked her up as she passed out. She went limp in my arms while still smiling. Dogs love nothing better than to rub in smells. I thought perhaps if she died at that moment she would have gone out happy, but fortunately the little stinker (literally now after her rug in poop) keeps on ticking.

I’m getting better handling the fainting spells, not crying as much when they happen. I try to remain calm so I don’t add to her angst. I cuddle her and tell her mommy’s here, mommy loves her and kiss her little head. Not sure if it helps or hinders but it’s all I can do. Then I hold her for a while as it zaps the pee and vinegar out of her, literally on the pee. Other than the fainting she is eating well and enjoying a quiet summer. She wants to run and play ball and it’s sad for me to have to be the fun police but one of us has to know her limitations.

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Encompassing Designs Compass Rose

6/14/2017

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Although we aren’t launching for another month or so, I have to get snapping on the whipping of my compass rose rug I hooked last year for the cabin sole of our boat. It’s been in the closet for long enough.

I might have to make a few changes first. Take off some of the border plaid to use on my stair risers that I might be short of. I would kill to have a couple of more yards of that plaid, not only was it a dream to hook with but the look is perfect as a backdrop for anything of a nautical flavour. I do have a Christmas stocking that I could take apart, the backing is at least a 1/4 yard of it. There is nothing I’d rather do that have to sew another backing to replace it….not! It was painful the first time. I’m a hooker, not a sewer and needles in my fingers mean blood on my hands.

Every time I view my rug I think wow. Sorry to sound like a braggart but I love this piece. It was 28 1/2" x 52 1/2" of pure joy to hook! I worked in the primary colours that I lust after and I’ve been enamored with the compass rose forever, that’s why my business is called Encompassing Designs, I started out designing the roses and then it grew until it now encompasses everything. And last of all, this rug is for our big, beautiful, beloved boat, our cottage on the water, making the rug a trifecta of all things good. In the future I may do more detailed pieces, art pieces, with maximum shading and creative colour planning, but this rug will always stand as my favourite!

I finally got around to listing the pattern on the website. I tried a couple of times but the computer was so slow I could have washed my hair in between functions. Then I forgot it all together and it sat on a chair behind me, getting piled with stuff so out of sight out of mind.

http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/signature-designs.html

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Butterflies

6/13/2017

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It seems that June Bugs aren’t the only insects in abundance this year. I’ve been noticing a greater number of Monarch Butterflies as well. In the past, there have been seasons when I see one here and there, but now every time I step outside, one or two are fluttering about. They dance over my gardens, sometimes setting down for a brief moment, then carrying on their way. I’m transfixed by their presence. As nature goes, they are incredibly beautiful. So delicate and fragile a breath of wind can push them aside so it is obvious their strength is in their beauty.

A throwback from childhood, they remind me of fairies, who although could fly on their own, used to taxi through the air on these magnificently winged creatures. Even with the glare of the summer sun in my eyes, I was sure I could see the tiniest of imps bridling the butterflies, destined for castles and princesses and the most incredible journeys imaginable. An amazing sight to see in my daydreams; as real as the magic wand in my hand and the bejeweled crown atop my head....

I had a pretty active imagination when I was a wee lassie. I firmly believed in the existence of fairies and spent hours building beautiful fairy dwellings of moss, sea glass, cigarette package foil and anything that shimmered in the light. Every morning I would run to the edge of the wooded area behind our house and check to see if the tiniest of tired travellers had spent the night under the moonlit sky. They must have been early risers, because the beds were always empty, but I knew it was only a matter of time before I would find one still sleeping....

Butterflies (Oval) Size: 27" x 35", Beautifully hooked by Doreen Burke,
pattern also comes in a rectangle.
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/signature-designs.html

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Flying Ping Pong Balls

6/12/2017

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Last night felt like an invasion. Like that horror movie, The Birds. The house was under attack by June Bugs, an army of outsiders trying to get in. It was precarious opening a door. When the pups had to pee I went to the front line to swipe them away from the porch floor to avoid stepping on them. I hate to kill things and the crunch is sickening, sending shivers up and down my spine so I practice prevention to try to spare them. They were hanging from the screen on the door, dozens of them, others are buzzing about my head and I’m ducking these lively brown ping pong balls so they don’t get in my hair. Their legs are barbed so if they land on the head they get tangled. It’s like a mad circus trapeze; they fly this way and that and crash into me and stick to my clothes. I am so worried one will land on one of my pups and scare the wits out of them, traumatizing them for life, making it difficult to go outside and pee.

They seem worse than last year, well maybe worse isn’t the right word, it’s not like they’re some sort of scourge, they don’t hurt us, but they do seem greater in numbers. In previous years I don’t recall fretting to go outside as much. I’ve never had to turn up the radio to drown out their bodies beating against the windows as hundreds take shot after shot at the panes to get inside. The pups hear the noise and think we are under attack and bark endlessly so I turn up the volume to drown them out, the bugs that is, not the dogs.

They cover the back deck chairs and cushions and target the porch lights so I switch them off but then they focus on the lights inside the house and beat themselves silly against the windows. So many of them, thousands clinging to and buzzing around outside of the house but then in the morning, like vampires they are all gone, hiding under the deck, in dark places, under the soil, waiting once again for the night.

Always curious, I Googled ‘June Bug’ to help understand their manic attraction to lights but there was no explanation. But they do say that late May and early June is mating season, they have only weeks to reproduce and then die, so that might explain their frantic actions.

June Bugs spend most of their lives underground. The white grub-like larva lives in soil for up to three years. They love nice green lawns, and thousands of them are gnawing on the roots of your grass right now.

The adult bug has an extra set of wings, but they can’t fly worth a darn, only one of the pairs provides what scientists call lift. Given their manic attraction to light, June bugs quickly exhaust themselves and collapse belly up in the yard. Bugs that crash to the ground become an important source of food for birds and mammals, including crows, blue jays and raccoons.

June bugs are members of the vast and diverse group of insects we call beetles. They have been around for 230 million years, longer than the dinosaurs. They are prolific; one in four of all animals now living is a beetle.

After mating, females dig a few inches into the soil and deposit their eggs. The grubs live underground for 1-4 years, feeding on plant roots and descending much lower into the soil in the winter. When fully grown, in late spring, the larvae pupate for a few weeks, within a small cavity in the soil. They emerge as adults but stay underground for another year until the following spring, when they crawl to the surface to fly, mate and lay eggs. And the cycle begins again.

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What are you doing on your day off?

6/11/2017

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BUZZ OFF!

6/9/2017

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You would think with four dogs I wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on them all simultaneously, but this maternal gal can and does. No matter what I’m doing I have one eye on them, constantly checking to see what they are doing and generally, they are all in one area watching me as intently as I watch them. I am their entire world and it shows in their eyes as they watch their human go about daily tasks. If I’m relaxing and sitting, they are all piled on and around me, their bodies pressed into mine for comfort and warmth, happy as a clam in mud.

So when Jake disappeared yesterday it was rare and unnerving. Being the consummate worrier that I am, my mind immediately went to the dark corners, scraping away the cobwebs of past incidents that frightened, saddened and sent me down the black hole of bereavement. My Louis died on my watch from a spider in the woodpile, a freak accident that taught me to never let my guard down. My already tight and anal outlook was magnified that day until I am almost a freak about keeping my babies safe. So I went from 1-60 in panic mode.

I called Jake's name with no response, which is highly uncommon. He is usually my shadow, my little black shadow, who follows me everywhere, two steps behind like I’m his queen. Sometimes if I stop short and turn around I bump into him so I’ve learned to shuffle softly as I move.

Now I’m running about the house like a mad woman, searching frantically, even second guessing myself and look outside thinking perhaps I missed him when they came in after peeing. The notion of that is insane, I would never miss one of my babies, not only is the visual of four pups imprinted in my mind, my brain does a count, 1, 2, 3, and 4. Maybe it’s a little OCD but I’ve trained myself to be on top of their comings and goings 24/7. Checking outdoors was like when my rings were stolen and I looked in pockets of coats that I hadn’t worn in months, even years, trying to find a simple solution to a potential disaster.

He’s not anywhere upstairs or down, so I’m on the brink of losing my mind when I think to check out the small powder room and there he is, hiding behind the toilet, looking up at me through eyes that are clearly afraid. My poor baby! I pick him up and cuddle him, so happy he’s found and okay but his little body is shaking like a vibrator on turbo. I asked him what’s wrong but he wants to get down and hide back behind the big, white, porcelain bowl. He’s so afraid there is no comfort in his my arms.

And then I hear it, the distinct and annoying buzzing of a house fly as it whizzes by my head. Poor Jake is petrified of house flies. Once, one landed on his ear and got tangled in the hair, buzzing frantically until it broke free. In the meantime Jake was jumping up and down and yelping, trying to escape the loud sound magnified by its closeness to his ear. I picked him up and he shook like a leaf in a hurricane. After that any housefly has to be eradicated immediately or Jake is ducking his head low and hiding under a chair.

It is difficult to train that kind of fear out of dog because they don’t understand words. Sometimes soothing them in a moment of stress can make it worse, it’s difficult to know what to do. My immediate reaction was to protect and love, but perhaps I made it worse by coddling him. Who knows, but he’s is deathly afraid of them now and all I can do it get out the fly swatter and make it better.

I had bones out aging on the kitchen counter and it was a nice day so the main door was open and the screen door isn’t a tight fit. The flies were getting in through the top gap; they could smell death and rushed to the carrion buffet on the counter. My dogs love a bone that has a bit of rank on it and the bacteria balances their guts so they never vomit, ever!

So I got out the fly swatter and the body count started racking up. I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed them before but I was at the computer in the living room and wasn’t paying attention to what was happening in the kitchen. Fifteen flies in all, thirteen died and two were given mercy when I opened the screen door to let them out. Only then did Jake stop shaking. I had to cover the bones to keep the smell from permeating the entire house so the flies wouldn’t have a reason to come in.

While I was committing mass murder, Jake went back into hiding, probably the swatter added to his angst. I am a bit embarrassed to say that it was so darn cute to see him crouched behind the toilet for protection that I snapped a photo with my phone. I feel a bit mean finding humour in his duress, but that little peanut face looking up at me was precious.....I think he’ll forgive me.....

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150 Canadian Hit & Miss Flag Offer

6/8/2017

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Limited Quantities
150 Canadian Hit & Miss Flag Bundle
Includes - uncut wool, pattern and instructions

Makes a lovely 12" x 12" pillow!
Bundle - $74.95
Comes with a small flag to fly on the day!

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Roly Poly

6/5/2017

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During the recent visit with Barbara Carter, author/artist and new friend, we learned about one another‘s childhoods. I was really interested to discover that she had a Roly Poly, I saw it in one of the photographs she showed me of her home. I’ve not known any other children that had one. She keeps hers sitting on a shelf in her studio, an innocent collectible from her past, while mine is guilty, buried somewhere, out of sight and out of mind so I don’t have to look at it. The more I stare at the fanatical smile, the more sinister it becomes. Overall for me, the clown disguise is innately unnerving, as is the perpetual smile. Now I’m not freaked out enough to be categorized as having Coulrophobia, the fear of clowns, but let’s say I find them creepy and leave it at that.

I’d come about the toy when we moved to the upstairs apartment at the Post Office when I was five. Frankie Langille, the custodian of the building gave it to me. It had been in the dark, dank basement, perhaps someone left it there to be rid of it, didn’t like the look of it either. The clown grabbed a bit of my attention, spinning it and watching it weave back and forth, smiling at me from all directions, but it was rather useless for long term entertainment.

The clown, in all it's various incarnations has been presented as toys for decades. I browsed the internet looking at vintage Roly Poly’s and let me tell you some of them are downright satanic looking. Why anyone would design and present them as toys for children fails me. Further research and clowns got pretty wild looking, the are portrayed more as demons than a fun family toy. Ironically, of all the items from my childhood, Roly Poly is the only thing that survived, the only link to my past and I couldn’t be any less thrilled.

If broken down, a clown’s mask may be a happy image, but then why throw in that lone tear, making it all seem rather schizophrenic? The person behind the makeup could be a happy soul, but they could also be angry, resenting having to prance about, and how do we know which side of the fence they perch? And really, what better way to prey on children then for a pedophile to present themselves for their amusement. I often wondered about Ronald MacDonald, the representative of MacDonalds Restaurants; if a better mascot would have served them better, but then unlike other children’s fallen heroes like say, Pee Wee Herman, Ronald seems to have kept his red nose clean.

I own a memory of a clown; it’s now faded and lost its impact, but occupies a space in the back of my mind. I was almost abducted by a circus clown when I was three, at least that is what the police thought of the incident. A sunny, summer day in the sandbox was interrupted by a yellow car coming to a stop perpendicular to our driveway and a clown in the backseat opens the door, filling it with all his splendour. He's magnificent in his large pouffy wig, big red nose, white face, huge red lips, white ruffle around his neck and he holds out his hand to offer me a shiny new quarter, held between the fingers of his big red gloves. I loved shiny things, I’ve said many times my mother called me crow, so I dropped my less interesting pail and shovel, scaled the wall of the sandbox and started toward the car. My mother saw what was happening though the kitchen window and ran to the door. Once on the door step, she became paralyzed with fear and could only holler my name. At some point her crying broke the spell of the coin glinting in the sunlight and I changed course to run to her. The clown slammed the car door shut and the driver sped away, leaving rubber on the road. I’m not sure what might have become of me if I’d reached the car. Perhaps it was innocent, I was so darn cute maybe the stranger felt compelled to give me a present, pat me on my blond head and go on his merry way. Or perhaps I would have been the victim of a child molester or even worse, ended up a toothless carny in a circus, taking people for their hard earned money.

Joking aside, I’m not saying I would run from one today, but I would keep my guard up and not turn my back, or if one asks if I want a balloon, I’d think twice about accepting it.

Occasionally, you hear about clown misdeeds, there'll be stories of crimes perpetrated by people in clown costume. And of course history gave us a real “Killer Clown”, Wayne Gacy, one of the world’s most infamous serial killers. He worked as a clown part time, dressed up as “Pogo” at children’s parties and fundraising events in Chicago. He was known to say that "clowns can get away with murder", and during that same period, he sexually assaulted and killed at least 33 young men between 1972 and 1978. I wonder how the families that hired him to dazzle their children felt when they realized the great Pogo had a basement full of bodies.

I don't mean to paint all clowns with the same brush. I’m sure there are many who dress up with love in their hearts. It’s just that darn old adage; one bad apple spoils the cart. One never really knows what is in another person’s soul, and it only seems logical that it would be even harder to identify the true essence of a person when they hide behind a mask.

Barbara sent these sketches she’d done years ago of her Roly Poly so I thought I'd write a little story. I never knew the real name for the toy until she enlightened me. I used to call mine Clowny.

Do these faces really say children's toy? To me they say "I'm going to eat you with some fava beans and a nice Chianti"

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Book review - The Girl Before

6/5/2017

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I’ve been reading a lot of good books lately. I like psychological thrillers which usually entail murder or at least an untimely death. It takes a couple of weeks to get through one, I’m only reading at night to lull myself to sleep. It’s ironic how murder can be restful, but it soothes my mind and shuts down the gears that run my brain. So...I know a book is particularly intriguing when I’m not able to wait for bedtime and pick it up during the day. This weekend I finished “THE GIRL BEFORE”, by J. P. Delaney.

I discovered reading cures my insomnia so I’ve been prolific lately; the read ones are piling up in tall stacks on my bureau. I buy books at two places, Costco and The Superstore. At Costco the prices are always discounted heavily, a big plus, and I get PC points for buying at the grocery store so it’s all added savings for reading on a budget. I don’t mind buying new books because it supports the authors, their reward for entertaining me. I like to keep a book that thrills me, perhaps to read again. Menopause has its perks, it’s sort of like Alzheimer’s; I forget quite easily now so I can reread and rediscover the same experience down the road.

What makes me decide on a particular book? I open it to a random part and read the two pages showing. I can tell instantly if the writing is good. For me the plot is almost secondary to the way it is written, but I find if the writing is good, generally the story is well presented. If the words flow unencumbered with interesting descriptors I’m in and off I head on a new adventure.

THE GIRL BEFORE was a well-crafted read. The plot is built around a rather unique building and the control-freak architect that designed it. An interesting concept about minimalist living, void of all things personal that usually provide comfort in a traditional home like paintings, knickknacks, photos, books, and pillows. All were against the rules. To apply for a lease, the prospective tenant has to fill out a questionnaire, beginning with; Please make a list of every possession you consider essential to your life. Tenants have to sign a contract and agree to be monitored and graded on their successes and failures while living there.

The story is built around two women, Jane the current renter, and Emma, the girl before who is found dead in the house. Was it murder, suicide or an accident? Alternating chapters tell each of their stories. I liked this wave action thriller, going in and out of these women’s lives to keep me guessing. It was different, unlike anything I've read before. Although set on a backdrop of extreme minimalist living it was cluttered with emotion, love, sadness and fear. I was also impressed that the story was written by a man. His insight into Jane’s feelings and emotions after giving birth to a stillborn child, and all of the emotions, thoughts and feelings of both women, all I can say, from this woman’s perspective, he was spot on.

So Saturday after work, I had dinner and finished the book in the evening before I went to bed, and once there I thought about it until I went to sleep. I love a story that lingers.

This reader gives THE GIRL BEFORE a generous five stars.

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Adjustments....Day One

6/2/2017

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I’m day one into my adjustment for a better life. I've been struggling for some time, drained of energy and feeling lower than the bottom step, so it's time to provoke change. I need structure so if I write about it, perhaps once a week it will help to keep me on track. Last night I didn’t have the greatest success in the sleep department but I suppose I can’t expect more than baby steps after decades of indulging in the nocturnal makeup of a cat. I fell asleep around midnight after reading for a half hour and then woke at 1:30 AM. I was wide, WIDE awake and tossed and turned for a couple of hours. I got up at 9:00 AM feeling unrefreshed and had four naps after breakfast, the last one ended at 4:53 PM. No sense getting ready for work then, but I’m hoping I paid my debt, with interest, to the sleep deficit mobster. Hopefully, now I can begin to transform myself into the morning person I hope to become.

My goal is to reprogram my infernal, I mean my internal clock, to go to bed at a decent time, get in eight hours of sleep so I can rise earlier. I would like to be a person that pulls a few weeds in the cooler temperatures of the morning, maybe write a bit or hook, sip coffee in my favourite chair at the window, drinking in our amazing view and be grateful for all I have. I like a leisurely morning to play with the pups and think about my day and still have time to ready for work without panicking I’ll be later than planned, because lets face it, I'll always be late, it's my quirk.

So I’m about to attempt a midlife 180, at least give it a good shot. Make changes that are reasonable before I have to worry there is more than a few extra pounds and sleep deprivation dragging me down. Cheers to my health and my sanity and procuring the most out of every day. As I get older I fret more about wasting time, so I hope to energize my mind and body to live the fullest I can possibly do. Day one didn’t pan out so well but I’m hopeful day two will show improvement and continue over the following days on a slow but steady incline. I know that failure is a part of success so I won’t let the bad days cloud the good.......

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A time for some changes.....

6/1/2017

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This are is supposed to be a walkway between all my peony plants. You can barely see them with the grass so tall!

I’m frustrated. I’ve packed on a few extra pounds over the winter and my stomach is entering the room even before my chest. I’m getting older, it happens, I can’t expect to weigh what I did in my thirties, but this extra flab is zapping my energy...my get up and go...got up and left. I've looked and certainly felt better, its time to make some changes.

I’ve been pretty lethargic of late, with the energy of a broken finger. I move like a slug and take a nap after breakfast. Insomnia has hit hard for the past couple of weeks adding to the perpetual deficit. I’m forgetful and my eyes feel like window blinds half opened. I really need to get a grip over the next week or so to get back on a path of wellness. I’ve been taking vitamin B12 and D, but I think I need a major overhaul, veggie drinks, salads and no more snacking. I need energy. I have gardening to do and painting around the house, a driveway to scrape as the grass is taking over and it bugs the heck out of me, if I don’t beat it back it will encroach over the entire parking area. I’ve been picking away at it, five minutes here and there before having to practically crawl to the house for a rest, its hard labour! Grass on the driveway is a pet peeve of mine; it shouldn’t look like part of the lawn. It’s bad enough the grass as taken over my gardens, sending shoots under the rock edge, creeping its way along the soft earth to rise up and push out my plants, but now it’s forcing its way up through the crushed gravel! The damn grass is an infernal pest! A never ending battle! I’d like to cover the lawn with cement and paint it green.

The garage needs trim paint and I have the boat floor boards to sand and varnish. The kitchen and living room hardwood floors need to be recoated several times as there are bare spots with raw wood shining through. I have a month to do these things and then my focus will be on the boat. Due to circumstances we will be launching later this year, perhaps the middle of July so I have all of June plus a bit to get a grip. If I don’t get a grip I’ll be sitting here in a month’s time still lamenting all these things need doing and feeling guilty about not doing them.

I’m not liking this belly that looks about eight months pregnant; stretching out my clothes and bursting buttons. It’s either fat or I'll be giving birth to a big tumor. I don’t eat bad food but I do eat way too much of it. It’s a simple fix, as easy as less on the plate. I do comfort eat which is a more difficult challenge but once I get the ball rolling it will get easier to abstain. Once I start feeling better then working at a steady pace, burning fat and recharging the batteries, I’ll trim down, it’s getting started and over that beginning hump that’s difficult.

I am also going to try to go to bed early every night.   I’ve been averaging 1:00 am and I’m paying for it, I used to be a sharper pin but now there is a fog that dulls me. I do things and two minutes later question if I did it or not. I walk into a room for something and forget why I came. This isn’t me and I don’t have Alzheimer’s. It’s nothing a good eight hours of sleep wouldn’t cure. I wish I had a big switch that turns off the electricity at 11:00, forcing me into bed at a reasonable hour. Hubby and I are terrible together. I think he’s always on west coast time and I was a cat in a previous life, a nasty combo to promote sleep deprivation. Fortunately for hubby, when his head hits the pillow he’s gone whereas I have to read to quiet my brain and that can take anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour or so it’s 2:00 am before lights out.

I’m fat, tired and mad and I’m not going to take it anymore.....change begins tonight!

Weeds and dandelion's dropping their seeds for next years crop. I can't even see my plants!

One garden finished on the right side of the house.
You can see the grass growing on the driveway behind the birch trees.

This small area yielded three wheel barrows filled with weeds and more to pull.
It's a good thing I like this kind of work!

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