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I'm touched beyond words.....well, I have a few....

8/28/2014

WOW………I am overwhelmed in the best kind of way. I never dreamed there would be such an outpouring of good wishes and support!   The best therapy ever!

I read and reread all of the responses on my blog, Facebook and the private emails. I would love to respond to them all individually but a group message will have to do as there are not enough hours in the days to say all that is in my heart!

I have absorbed all your thoughts and suggestions so they will be with me and I am going to print them off so they are close at hand if and when another human tornado blows through.

I laughed at some comments and cried over others.   There is something to be said about knowing we are not alone. Although I hate that you too have experienced the ugly side of humanity there is comfort knowing I haven’t been singled out.   It sure makes me think and I will try to not take it so personally. I feel so strong today, like titanium and if anyone walked in the door and started in on me, my tank is so full of "sass" I’d send them packing and holler, hope the door hits you in the arse on the way out!" Well, maybe I wouldn't say that but it's fun to think I could! I'll definitely be thinking it though!

                                     So bless you all!

Yesterday the universe sent Santa to me. I needed a ray of sunshine and sure enough, I had a smile you could see for a mile. Silly really, how a man in a long, white beard, red shirt and hat that says Santa can make you feel like a child again. All those wonderful Christmas stories and recollections engrained deeply in my memory all came to the forefront. It was just what I needed!

Mr. and Mrs. Claus were so lovely and sweet, I almost got a cavity. Santa was definitely jolly but smaller around the girth than I remembered. Mrs. Claus said he's lost a bit of weight so she's had to sew padding into his suit. The happy couple are retired from the North Pole and living in Atlanta Georgia where they do wonderful deeds for children, especially those in need of a little Christmas magic. They touched my heart and I gave them one of my hooked Cone Santas to add to their collection of festive decorations.   Mrs. Claus also bought a kit because she fell in love with hooking and said if she lived around here she would be hanging out at the studio with all us gals.

I also got to hang out with Kay Lewis at our daytime hook-in. We chatted about life and I think maybe we were twins that got separated at birth. A kindred spirit for sure! So after the bad came the good. If only it would stop there but I know there will be other trials. I hope to handle them better, I’ll keep you posted.

The hook-in gathering was small but mighty. Patsy dropped by, Teresa from next door and her friend Kay.   It was a great afternoon.

Patsy....it sure isn't hard to smile with Santa around!

Mr. & Mrs. Claus. They have a blog if anyone would like to follow. Details are on the card.

Kay Lewis with her masterpiece.

Teresa with her Primitive Oriental

Initially Yours Z, Zebra stripe with jungle colours.

10 Comments

Be Nice or Leave!

8/27/2014

39 Comments

For those of you that are affected by negative words, pass this one by. I write about all my experiences good and bad. This one is bad and long. And....I've used the "shit" word.

I’ll bet you all clocked off at five, went home to the family and were happy for the evening. I went home, cried for an hour, made myself ill and then went to bed for a sleepless, sheet tossing, frustrated night.

Some don’t like that I post negative blogs but right now I don’t give a hoot, I need to vent. I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. I write about experiences and although I pray they could all be filled with butterflies and kittens, life isn’t like that. I’m a good person, with a kind and generous heart but I'm at the end of my tether.

People are crapping on me. I must be an easy target, trapped in a shop with no place to hide. Some of the people that cross my threshold are like a woman I used to know, generally sweet as pie but when she was in a restaurant she was terrible to the wait staff, took the woes of her cheating husband out on them.   It’s easy to crap on strangers, it’s unfair but who cares when you don’t have to look at them again?

Over the past two weeks I’ve been hit so many times with attitude and rudeness that I am wondering what the hell I’m doing in retail. My husband tells me to quit, he says I don’t need to do this, so why am I subjecting myself to the balls of shit being thrown at me.   I bend over backwards trying to please but I continually become the object of people’s wrath.    What do I say back? Nothing! I stand there and take it like a dummy. I don't know how to fight, talk back or defend myself and then I fall apart.

Yesterday, at 10 minutes to 5 three women came in. One introduced herself as a hooker from a Fredericton group. The other two weren’t rug hookers but they were looking at my stack of Initially Yours letters. I told them I was hooking the alphabet and then planned to write a book about it. The rug hooker of the group said she was told to come into my shop and asked who I was. I said Christine. She said, oh hi!

We chatted and then she asked to go to the bathroom. I said "sorry we don’t have a public facility".   I told her if the town hall was opened across the street she could go there.    They left and I went to get my camera to take their picture for Facebook when they came back. A visitor from New Brunswick is always exciting! At 10 after 5 two of them came back.   The rug hooker said she found a washroom and I said great. Then she said very bitterly with eyes that burned, “I have a medical condition and I am very upset that you didn’t let me use your washroom!” turned on her heel and walked out. The woman with her spoke up and said, “She was going to spend money in your shop, but now she will never come back!!!” and left.

I stood there for a moment before the tears hit. Shane said, “Mom, you can’t let that bother you!”   But it was too late. Why wouldn’t it bother me? A rug hooker hates me and all the Fredericton group will be told I’m a miserable so an so. I didn’t do anything to deserve this.

Yes, we do have a bathroom but the toilet doesn’t work half of the time. To be blunt, in the last three number twos, it didn’t flush and I had to plunge it. Yuck! It was my poop and awful, if I had to do this with a strangers, I would lose my lunch. Need I tell you how shit sticks to a plunger? Probably not.

There is a problem in the line. Apparently the building next door and my building are hooked up wrong and run on the same line that T’s to the main street pipe. We are told by the Public works department, if we pay $500 to rent a camera to put down there and find out that the problem causing all the blockages belongs to the town they will fix it on their dime, if not we are out thousands of dollars for digging up the street. I don’t have that kind of money, to date no one next door has offered to share the expense.

We can’t flush while the washing machine is spinning or rinsing. If you do it won’t flush easily, not even with pee and a bit of paper. It usually ends laying in the pipe somewhere along the line and starts blocking, usually at the 90 degree bend at the T. We’ve had to pay to snake it out on several occasions, and the neighbour has had to do it as well. We are using the washing machine to spin the dyed wet wool and wash wool all day long and try to coordinate our waste removal accordingly as not to tax the line. The poor neighbour has had to clean up his basement after our bathroom illuminations more than he cares to mention. It’s been joked about how someone in our shop likes corn…real funny!

Except for not wanting to go down the hole smoothly, it hasn’t backed up on us, because we are higher on the street. They say shit rolls downhill and we can vouch for the validity of it. We do get the smell of methane; sewer gas, oh yum backed up in the bathroom. Because of this we use the toilet sparingly and flush as little as possible.

Does anyone care? Why should I have to explain this to everyone?   Why can’t the fact that we don’t have a public washroom be enough? Other shops on the street deny access and no one gets angry with them. We are not in the food industry so we aren’t required to open it to the public. The last person who was allowed to use it left a terrible mess that I won’t describe and I said no more. If you use an excess of paper to wipe, it won’t flush. Some women are not kind in public washrooms, they are afraid to sit on a seat so they hover and leave pee all over it and don’t clean it up. Quite frankly I don’t earn enough to deal with this.

And a bigger question is why do people save up a full bladder and/or colon and go into a store expecting them to take it on? Mahone Bay has an Irving, some of the cleanest bathrooms you’ll ever see, cleaned on the ½ hour and we also have two public washrooms in town, one directly across from the Irving and visible from our shop. If I had a medical condition, I’d go to a bathroom before going into a store, there is no guarantee there will be a facility. Even the market in town that sells food and has tables outside for sitting at to eat lunch, doesn’t have a washroom. No one craps on them about it.

I ran upstairs and cried on the phone to my husband, who once again suggested it’s time to retire and then went home and bawled like a baby on the back deck because I’m so tired of this. My pups were kissing me and wondering what the heck was wrong. I don’t deserve to be treated in this manner. I can’t seem to grow a thicker skin and as I age I become more sensitive to people and their rudeness.

I have a rule, no public washroom. Why am I the bad guy, whether the toilet has problems or not? Is my face the dumping ground for frustrations that have nothing to do with me? The fact that I stand there and take it, not defend myself or speak back is justification to use me as a target? My big problem is that I keep comparing people to what I would do in any situation so I really don't understand.   I am respectful of others and don’t expect them to cater to me. Rug Hooker from Fredericton, you didn’t use my washroom but you certainly crapped all over me!

I am tired and if this is the way I am continually treated I’m afraid I won’t be around long. I carry negative feelings for a long time and it zaps every bit of energy from me. My son keeps saying, don’t let it bother you but there’s a flaw in me that takes it all on. I lose sleep, I feel physically ill. I’m a waste facility for negative energy. There is a hook-in today and I don’t want to go to the shop. I woke with a terrible headache, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the face from swollen eyes and puffy cheeks. I wanted to finish my Z last evening but I couldn’t even hook.

And....Just last week two woman came into the shop. I spent time in the back room chatting with them while they went through the patterns. The one gal kept telling me she didn’t have any money this month. Three times she brought up her financial situation. I thought it was strange. I don’t pressure people to buy things in my store, completely the opposite.

Anyway, the gal showed me her tattoos of sunflowers and said she really loved them. She said she would like a pattern with three large sunflowers on it and I offered to design it for her, letting her know that isn’t something I do anymore, but the idea was interesting and it would be a nice pattern for the rack.

The other gal wanted a design we didn’t have in stock but said she would order it and come back for it another day. We had mail orders to get out, which I didn’t mention, but I told her that if she planned on being in Mahone Bay for lunch, we would do up her pattern to save her from a three hour drive each way to come back for it. She thanked me and we rang up her order.

Her friend spied a sunflower kit and mentioned it was nice. She said the flower was perfect. Remembering the conversations about her being low on funds, I offered it to her for 20% off which was a $50.00 savings. The rug kit was originally $249.95.   She said she would think about it over lunch. The kit had been in the shop for over a year and the plastic bag was quite wrinkled and the paper label was dog eared. It needed to be rebagged, I just never got around to it. I’m saying this so you know I had no attachment to the wrinkled wrappings of the kit.

A hour or so later I was called downstairs to help a lady from BC who wanted to buy a Lunenburg kit. The Sunflower gal had come back in and asked my assistant to open the bag that held the kit and she was spreading the pattern over the floor to have a look at it and said that it was actually larger than she thought from looking at the picture but was happy with the size.   I didn’t have any thoughts about what she was doing although she accused me of being angry that she had removed the pattern from the bag.

I was at the counter ringing up the BC woman’s order, and I was getting her shipping information. While we were talking and I was writing down her mailing address the woman that wanted the sunflower kit blurted out and asked if I would take $180.00 for the kit.    I’d just offered her $50 off and now she wanted another $20.00. If she had asked me in private, took me aside and asked I probably would have said yes, the kit had been there awhile and I liked her, the project couldn’t have gone to a better rug hooker because of her love of sunflowers. But she asked in front of the woman now buying a kit and a second customer at the wool racks. There was no regard of how that would make other customers feel, they wouldn’t be getting any deals.

I said sorry, if you purchase the wool off the rack it would be more expensive than the price I offered.   (Usually a kit is more expensive because you pay for my time to dye the exact colours and cut the strips and assemble the kit.) Now she wanted even more off.   I said, if you aren’t interested in it, it will go back to the regular price after I rebag it.   I said it to impress that I was offering her the discount, that I didn’t plan to do it for anybody else.

She said she was leaving and stormed out the door. I was stunned and said “Ah, come on, don’t be like that”, It probably wasn’t the best thing to say but that’s all that came out. I’m terrible at confrontation and only come up with good things to say well after the fact. Her friend left behind her and thanked me for making up her pattern.

I started to tremble and nausea hit pretty quickly. The woman I was waiting on heard it all and saw how I was reacting and told me to breathe and relax, not to let it bother me. Well, that’s a snowball chance in hell…..not going to happen ever.   The rest of my day was ruined. I was depressed and black as tar and I left early to get away from the shop. My beautiful shop once again ruined by someone going off the rails.   All the way home I kept asking why I put myself through this?    I had a miserable evening and so did my hubby as the phone call was filled with whining.

Before I went to bed I checked my Facebook page and there was a message posted by the sunflower woman calling me “judge mental”, “rude” and “snotty”. That she has been through too much to be treated like that.   How I think I am better than her. It went on and on about how awful I was to her. How my assistant was nice and opened the kit but I was angry because of it.

I replied and told her my side of things and she replied back again with more of the same, paragraphs of it.   Seeing that I wouldn’t get anywhere I didn’t reply to her last message so then she posted a comment right on my FB about ‘It’s not what you do in life that people remember, but how you make them feel”.   Well that works two ways doesn’t it? I felt pretty awful after I’d been trying to help her. I wonder about her…..she stressed twice that her life has been rough, if she’s been treated so badly, maybe she’s always cocked and loaded looking for offensiveness where none exists. I’ve been treated badly too, I don’t have an attitude everywhere I go and pounce if someone looks at me sideways.   She wants me to apologize to her for being judgmental. I told her that in my heart that isn’t true. I’m not sure what I was supposed to be judging? I didn’t know her well enough to judge or even have an opinion about her, I didn’t even know her name!   She wrote that f I had just said “no” she would have been fine. Somehow I doubt that. She tells me she will never come back and hints that her friend won’t be back either.

There is not one iota of truth to my being mean with her. I was stating facts. I had offered her an exceptional deal but that wasn’t good enough. My kits are works of art, top quality, not sloppy recycled wool thrown in a bag……and they are never on sale.

I’m a bit fed up. This constant crap is tearing me down. I’m not growing a thicker skin with age, it’s thinning to the point of breaking. Even if I could come back with a retort it wouldn’t be mean, that’s not who I am. So please, if you have a chip on your shoulder stay the heck away from me because I don’t have one, nor do I want yours.    This is rug hooking for god’s sake. We aren’t fighting for world domination! We’re on the same side!

All I want to do is go to work, design some patterns, write my blogs and chat with the wonderful people I have the pleasure to meet. It’s obvious I’m too much of a pussy to handle problems. I’m an Empath, all 30 of the descriptions fit me. I feel things very deeply. I just learned this and it answers a lot of questions. It’s ingrained in my personality and I’m not going to change so I have to amend my circumstances so I don’t put myself in the way of those that are always ready to duke it out.    I have to stop wanting people to like me. I need to appreciate those that do and build from that. I need to toughen up and not sweat the small ‘minded’ stuff. And then I think, if only I could follow my own advice......

When people come in that are nice, I am high from the positive experience. I go home and smile all evening long, even while I hook. All is good in the world. But when they aren't nice, it tears me down and it’s a struggle to get back up.

Coincidentally, I was in a shoe store one the way to work yesterday and a woman wanted to use the washroom and the clerk told her that she wasn't allowed to take her purse in with her so it would have to be left behind the counter.   The woman left her bag, smiled and said thank-you. Thank-you?????   I was shocked!!!!! I couldn't believe it!!!!! If I had a public washroom and asked someone to do that the fallout would be wild. I can’t even get them to leave their coffee on the counter let alone all their money, keys and credit cards!   With me, they want to shoot the messenger.   I looked at the clerk with utter amazement, wondering what she did that created such a positive response. She didn't even say please or thank-you….could that be it?

In the past two weeks four patterns were stolen out of my back room, if I asked that purses be left at the counter, I’ll bet WWW III would break out. My door would be broken from all the stomping and slamming! I'll bet the farm I'd be accused of calling them a thief!

So universe, please send kindness my way today so I can love going to work again. I’m just a lowly rug hooker, not a witch or any of the rhyming ‘itch’ words. As much as I hate to admit it I’m an idiot.   It’s embarrassing really. I’m ashamed that I can’t let anything roll off my back. I can’t change, nor would I want too, I don’t want to be retail hardened. People have told me that retail almost destroyed them before they got out of it. If this world is on a downward spiral and people are getting progressively ruder and filled with entitlement, I will choose to be a recluse in my home.

39 Comments

House on the water......

8/26/2014

7 Comments

What a great day in the shop on Monday. I had a leg up, literally on a stool and sat on my duff to hook all afternoon. Heather Gordon, back from the Newfoundland Rug School popped in for a bit and Charlene was in for a chat.   Customers didn’t seem to mind that I wasn’t up and mobile and the tourists took advantage of the continuous demo as I hooked.

Two sisters came in, one of which graduated from Mahone Bay school in the sixties. We had a good ole chat. She said the town has really blossomed compared to the dead flower it used to be. There wasn’t much here to keep anyone after school and she couldn’t get away fast enough. After I introduced them to Shane, the other sister thought I was too young to have a 34 year old son and told me that I looked like I was in my thirties. The swelling in my knee traversed to my head although I would have been more flattered compared to a plausible 49 year old. Maybe she had cataracts, natures natural air brushing, the filtering lens that makes things appear soft and powdery.   Of course my vain side likes to believes she hit it on the head!

The rest has been good for me. Last night my knee was feeling about 95% and I look forward to normal as early as tomorrow.   Then I better start doing the exercise the osteopath gave me. I’m one of those people that live by, ‘out of sight out of mind’. Dah…the only time I think about the exercise is after the knee is pounding and then I think crap, I should have been working to strengthen it. Of course, once it throbs I can’t stretch it or risk further injury, but I promise to be vigilant on the next reprieve….but….good intentions and all, I might end up back in the vicious see saw of have pain…be stupid…have pain…be stupid.

On my way home from work yesterday afternoon I saw a beautiful sailing yacht moored in the harbour. Some people have so much money it must ooze out of their ears. Hubby estimates her at 100 ft long and $20 million. I would love a look below; see how the other half lives. I’ll bet it has a cook and a deck swabber. I like the stability of a foundation under my feet but I could slum it a bit and go for a week excursion, just to bask in a bit of luxury, try it out to see how it fits. There is about as much living space on that boat than the two floors of my house. It’s hard to even wrap my head around!

Hubby and I will have our sailboat when he retires and it will be fantastic. A galley and comfortable sleeping quarters for the two of us and a special birth for the pups. There will be standing room, a working shower and flushing head and all very affordable.   There won’t be any gold plated faucets and king sized beds.   I’m not interested in being filthy rich; I’d just like to take a peek at it and then come back to my humble comforts. I sure as heck wouldn’t want a bigger house; I can’t clean what I have. For me, the only real perk of being wealthy would be the help it affords. There would be a cleaning service in once a week, laundry help, a chef in the kitchen, and a gardener in the backyard. Oh, and a pool boy for the pool we’d have for the pups.

So I almost finished the zebra stripes. I goofed somewhere and hooked white when it should have been black but managed to fix it without the error showing.   There is very little left to do and I might sit in the shop this afternoon and finish it, give my knee one more day of rest. I’m anxious to start on the next initial. I’m thinking Jaguar spots behind the letter F which will stand for Felidae, the big cat family.

Now that I’m going beyond the actual design to create exciting backgrounds it will be difficult to go back to the simple plaids so I’m going to have to think outside the box for more ideas. This puts me at 15 completed and I'm thinking I'm going to be sad when I finish the last letter. This is an exciting ride and I don’t want it to end. The mere fact that I’m back to hooking like I did when I starting all of 15 years ago is sensational   I was prolific back in the early days, always a project on the frame and several in the dream stage.   It’s good to be back in the saddle!

I’m going to have to come up with another idea after this…….

7 Comments

Sunday RIP

8/25/2014

7 Comments

The intent was to hook all day Sunday and rest my knee. An old injury flared up, maybe even worse this time so I’ve been sitting more than standing the last few days.   I had high hopes of completing at least half of the Initially Yours Z, or possibly even reaching the finish line but there was a nasty little voice in my head, guilting me into doing things that went against the day off grain. Those piles of dirty dishes, something I try to avoid eye contact with, scream at me for a wash and dry and return to the cupboard where they belong.

I know things are bad right now. I’m back to hiding if the doorbell rings. I’m not a domestic goddess and I can ignore the mess to a point, but it’s breaching the limits I can live with and morbid thoughts are starting to creep in. What if I have a heart attack, would this mess be what I want to be remembered by? Would this sad state of affairs be wagging on the tongues of town after the shocked paramedics blab? Sure I’d be dead and wouldn’t care, but there's a worse scenario, what if I lived? The shame might kill me! I’m a proud one, just a bit on the lazy side. Housework is boring and unstimulating so when fun things call to me I run toward them. It’s so much nicer to do something creative than be in the dishpan up to the elbows in suds and dirty dishes.

All of a sudden I have discomfort in my chest. Probably that voice in my head trying to motivate a reaction. If I have a heart attack, this pig pen mustn't be the legacy I leave behind! So I got out of my comfy hooking chair and limped to the kitchen.

I hobbled around the house gathering the water glasses and plates that always seem to be hauled away and never brought back.   Then I notice how grungy the empty flatware tray is and the next thing I find myself scouring that back to a lily whiteness.   Then the stove burners are looking sad so I’m elbow greasing those.   The collection of colourful tea pots on the open shelves have lost their lustre, steam and grease from cooking float up and skim coat all the surfaces and being a crow I like things to shine so now I’m washing things that I don’t even eat out of, things just there for show. How sick is that?

So now two hours have gone by and the counters are sparkling, a sad contrast to the dull floor lined with dust bunnies and all those little cut bits from my hooking. I’m a messy hooker, I snip and chuck and then they get walked all over the house. Once hubby said, why don’t I place a garbage can handy but that never dawns on me. My dogs are great, they don’t eat wool so it’s perfectly fine to let the ends lay around.   But now I’m seeing colours from the alphabet letters two and three back so it’s time to run the vacuum.

You can’t vacuum the floors and rugs and not dust the table tops so now I'm spraying all the horizontal surface with orange oil. For goodness sakes I think, don’t look up!!!!!! But I did and I see all those cobwebs that only the sun streaming through the window will show and now I’m cleaning the beams, sweating like I’m going a few rounds in a ring.

Outside the boats are sailing by and power boats are tossing waves up on the shore. People having fun on their day off. My day has turned into a nightmare of wading through dead skin cells and dust bunnies. I’m really beginning to begrudge my house; it’s stealing my creativity, vacuuming it up along with the spider webs.   I’m afraid to go upstairs because the laundry waits. It seems like a conspiracy. If only I drank. Alcohol would put an end to this domestic guilt trip. I wouldn’t give a crap.

I will admit, the downstairs started looking pretty good. If someone dropped by I wouldn’t have to pretend I’m gone.   If only it would last....but by next Sunday I’ll be in the same boat, and it won't be the kind on the water.

I see how gross the windows are and I holler, "Stop searching for stuff to clean, it’s endless!" I’ve got to stop looking and start hooking; put blinders on and pull some loops, maybe watch a movie. My leg is throbbing from all the standing. I need to save myself from this crazy housework grind and grime! A house is a needy beggar, there is no end to its demands.

So, this was another day off murdered by household chores. RIP Sunday....if only I had a domestic worker I sure would be happy to be able to say, “the Butler did it!”

Here is my Initially Yours Z.....Z is for Zebra, the stripes are self explanatory.

7 Comments

Today is eye-candy catchup!

8/21/2014

7 Comments

I post a lot of pictures on Facebook that sometimes don't make it on here so I thought I would add to the pictures to our hook-in evening.

Charlene started hooking on the second design of her stained glass windows triptych last evening. Beautiful designs that she brings to life with bold colours that you would see on a Church window as light streams through them. Each design is special. I particularly love this new one with all the swirls. It reminds me a bit of an apple flan with the slices fanning out to cover the top. She is hooking the leading first and that in itself is creating a beautiful web of interest. Stay tuned as she boldly goes where she always goes, with tasteful, vibrant colours, blended to perfection What a tease....the patterns won't be available until they're all hooked.

Patsy is the newest member of our hooking group and is proving to have a good eye for colour and technique. She is almost finished Bluffton Bathers and I couldn't be more pleased. We looked up the Hilton Head lighthouse on the internet last evening and the lovely red and white will blend perfectly with the triangle of the red boat and bathing suit. I love the shading on the bums as they blossom out on the sandy beach. I've sold several of these patterns to the ladies of Hilton Head but Patsy just might beat them to the finish. What a splendid pillow this would make for her cottage!

Armenia is picking away at her Initially Yours letter "C" that stands for Corkum, her last name and Cookie, her nickname. She is busy at the cottage with lots of company so isn't hooking as much as she would like too. It's summer, time to enjoy the outdoors, long walks and swimming in the lake. I really like the backdrop of pattern edges behind her. Interesting colours of natural linen and beige burlap, like vertical stripings of tree bark.

Pam started hooking the stones in our pattern called "Stepping Stones". The background of green perfectly emulates grass and the golden stone sports delicate florals. She decided to jump ahead and do a few flowers, leaving the rest of the brick for later. Doing a bit of the fun stuff!

I'm steadily picking away at the striped Initially Yours "S". I love these colours and to date this is by far the most fun one to hook! I have to think a bit more about placement and working around all the flowers and vines to keep the lines straight but wowsa....I couldn't wait to get out of bed this morning to see it on the back of the chair. Working at night under a light and viewing it in the morning sun is like day and night literally. It is so delightfully happy you can't look at this one without smiling!

I've decided to challenge myself even more for the next letter. "N" for Nova Scotia with a background of our NS tartan. It will be a harder to do a horizontal and vertical grid but I can do it or dye trying! I've always wanted to design a NS tartan pattern so there is no time like the present!

What a lucky little girl! Theresa Scratch hooked our "Pearl" for her granddaughter. She did a bang up job. The hue of this piece screams girly! What an heirloom! Theresa was the first one to hook this pattern so she gets a 50% off coupon for another design and is going to hook a rug for another grandchild.

Good morning and hi Christine,

I want to say thank you so very much for the time and help you gave me yesterday afternoon. The visit to your shop was everything and more than I hoped it would be, just absolutely beautiful! Thanks to you and Shane for helping me chose the wool for my mermaid and also to you for getting the pattern drawn on so quickly with very little notice. As Pat and I talked on the drive home we both said the trip to your shop made the whole day so worthwhile and we left feeling very good, satisfied and sooooo very happy. I think I glowed all the way home, I was so pleased with my purchases. Even this morning I put everything out to check it all out and it just made me to happy to see all those beautiful colours and to envision how they will look hooked up.

As your so fond of saying "You are proud of your little shop", well you certainly have every right to be! Your shop is a rug hookers delight!!! Shane's expertise is dying wool is nothing short of his being "a master" in his work. Every time Pat and I talked about that incredible wall of colour, we were just WOWED at it's beauty. Your shop, you and Shane are all the inspiration that anyone would need after a visit.

Anyway, from one hooker to another we really enjoyed our visit to your shop and are already talking about our next trip, can't wait. We hope it will be not in the to far distance future. It certainly was our pleasure to visit. Hope your having a good day, I know I am as look upon all my beautiful colour! Cheers, Nancy

It was great having two island gals pop in for a visit. They both hook with a Charlottetown group called the Shady Ladies.

Pat Blacket's gorgeous Stained Glass Blue Heron. I've always wanted to design a Blue Heron and considering I see them on the shore across from our house all the time it's well overdue. This just might be the inspiration I need to make it so!

Nancy Doucette brought in some show and tell as well. I love Van Gogh's art and she did a beautiful job on the sun flowers. I was hoping she'd forget it and leave it behind! She took a class with Michele Micarelli for this piece.

Some of my favourite designs are Crewel and Jacobean. This particular tree of life and almost mirror image from end to end is perfect for a table runner or bench top. Only the finishing remains. Her colours were fabulous. This was created at a workshop with Doris Norman. There is so much talent in the Maritimes!

Marguerite Poirer is hiding but her talent is showing! William Morris Forest Tapestry Hare.

Barb was in to show her almost completed Watermelon Sampler, a Susan Leslie design and only her third rug. Barb is as sweet as that watermelon!

I've always loved this piece and Judy Fraser Arsenault is doing a great job! The pattern is called Something Fishy!

Another Della Ackles masterpiece! Between her hooking and colour sense and my design "Lotus" I think (call me bias) this should be in a magazine!

7 Comments

International Left Handed Day

8/20/2014

3 Comments

I’m a bit late but better that than never. August 13th was International Left Handed Day. Being a lefty I feel obliged to acknowledge it; tell my tale of left handed woes. Funny how times change. A century back I might have been burned at the stake after being accused of dabbling in witchery and today I’m slapped on the back for my right brained talents that flow from my left hand.

It wasn’t long ago I was being beaten across the knuckles with a ruler, yard stick or blackboard pointer, whatever was the closest grab. All in the name of being forced to conform to a certain way of holding a pencil. The same ancient school spinster beat my left handed father as well. She was extremely unkind, I never saw her smile until graduation day, probably formed from the joy of getting rid of another classroom of disgusting little seven and eight year olds. Someone once said she hated children and my experience pretty much backed that up.

She was a breaker of spirits that one. If she couldn’t strap the boys into submission it wasn’t from the lack of trying.   I saw more strappings that year than all others combined. Spare the rod and spoil the child seemed to be her mantra that she practiced often. This gal was so mean my mother used her as incentive for me to study. She’d say, “You don’t want to have her as a teacher again do you?” Boy, such a contrast from today. No one would allow a brute like that in the school system.

On several occasions her stern look almost caused my bladder to empty. The thought of repeating the year under her tutelage was enough to cram in what I needed to know for a passing grade. The terror I felt as I opened my report card to see whether or not I was doomed for another year of grade three hell, could have been mistaken for a palsy.

Irene Ernst, the name still makes me quiver. They say you shouldn't speak ill of the dead but I would really like the chance to talk to her and ask "What were you thinking?" She stigmatized me so badly I never took a left handed seat for the rest of school. I hid my difference from the world and unless you were paying attention you would never have noticed the flowing letters on my scribbler came from a lefty.   Miss Ernst tried her damnedest to break me, forcing me to hold my writing utensil in the most uncomfortable way, but I rebelled, took the strappings and to this day, my penmanship is as good as any right handed person.

My dad was a lefty and from an early age I realized his writing was illegible. Other than his signature, I couldn’t discern a single word. How he was the secretary for the United Church was astounding because I’m sure no one could read the minutes! Poor dad, beaten and conformed, he spent his life with wrist bent in the most awkward of positions just to write. I on the other hand was stubborn enough to resist, although at the time I didn’t think of myself that way. I truly was frightened, but the agony of conforming was physically real. While she watched I suffered the archaic belief that we lefties had to do it her way or the highway, and behind her back did it my way.

When I was caught I suffered the whacks and the looks with those piercing eyes over the spectacles and meanness that spewed from her mouth. I was like a little left handed bug waiting to be crushed by that massive hulk of a woman.   Even though decades have passed, I often think of her as my letters flow across the page. Some will ask, did a teacher ever change your life? Well, yes they did, although in a very negative way.....although it had a positive outcome.

And now we have a special day to commemorate our left handedness....how positively wonderful!

3 Comments

Hair you go.....

8/19/2014

2 Comments

All the colours of the rainbow and more!

Last evening I had a very interesting conversation at the Save Easy check-out with one of the cashiers. Jaleesa is sweet and I love that her hair is always dyed different colours of the rainbow, sometimes more than one at a time. The most recent flavour was a deep royal blue, it was artistic and interesting. I really like her individualism. I looked at her as Mahone Bay's very own, modern day Cyndi Lauper. She actually has the same features and face shape as her hair fashion predecessor. Way to go girl!

Last evening she took me by surprise with a headful of blond. “Your hair! I exclaimed, to which she replied, “Yes, I’ve decided to go normal”. I was surprised at how oddly the word normal tasted and I said to her. "Honey, I’m 55 years old and I’ve never met anyone normal” and finished with “We are all trying to fit into some ideal that we’ve been conditioned to view as normal, I’d rather be interesting than normal”. She smiled.

On the drive home I thought about what normal really means. The collective unhappiness of today’s modern human is that we are chasing an ideal that is as unrealistic as finding green men on mars. What is normal? Who is this role model we are trying to fashion ourselves after?

Normal is perceived as being well balanced, conforming to a standard, the usual, and typical or doing what is expected. Most want to be normal and seen as such. But why do we all want to put on a skin that isn’t right for everyone, be painted with the same brush? Colour is my business and dyeing wool is no different than dyeing hair so I'll look forward to seeing what wild colour this interesting, artistic and adventurous individual will try on next. I must say, I really loved the electric "big blue".

2 Comments

A chuckle a day keeps the doctor away....

8/18/2014

1 Comment

I’m sure it’s been noted that I’ve been remiss in the blog department most of last week. Robin William’s suicide threw me for a loop and caused a great deal of inner reflection. I wrote a blog about it but I’m on the fence whether or not to post it, it was pretty raw…..

In the meantime I have a funny little story that happened Saturday at the shop. Personally I was in the market for a few laughs so I’d like to bid a sincere thank-you for one customer’s silly little comments.

A great deal of the time I’m alone in the shop on Saturdays but Shane was in and Mary, who intended to come and hook with me, was also on deck. I had a rough week and thought it would be great to mellow out with a bit of hooking with my bestie mate, a relaxing day to chat and see a bit of progress on my letter S.   I never got to pull a loop and poor Mary was solicited into duty as well.

Good plans and well placed intentions don’t fit retail because you never know what might happen on any given day. Saturday the flood gates opened and it was constant traffic, nonstop from opening to closing. It was a wools sales day, everyone seemed to need help with colour planning and I love this, helping to shape customer's projects is one of my favourite things.

First come, first served is a general rule, it works for the bank and the post office, why not a rug shop? I do my best to work the crowds and help everyone in a timely fashion. My old short order cook training kicks in and I can cover the floor pretty quickly, sometimes dealing with two or more people at a time. I can get a read on each customer as to who would or wouldn’t mind a few distractions or quick answers to questions. It’s all about juggling and I can handle quite a few pins at a time.

Some people are more needy and if they don’t feel catered too will leave in a huff. It’s upsetting when this happens but what can you do when the shop is wall to wall people! I surely don’t want anyone slamming out the door, feeling justified in telling the rug hooking world that Christine Little is rude but that happens, I hear it through the grapevine. I’m impartial, I don’t judge you by the amount of diamonds on your hand, or fancy clothes on your back. The needs of all my customers are equally important, there just has to be an order to it all and first come first served is fair.

There were two older women to the left of me as I assisted one customer in mapping out the colours of her new project.   I was absorbed in the task and discussing the choices while Mary, who was sitting close by overheard the conversation between two gals as they discussed whether or not our shop would tear a ½ yard piece of dyed wool into a quarter. The one woman said, "Well they should, the other shop does it!" I missed that little tidbit but when she interrupted me in the middle of my conversation to ask if we downsized wool, I said yes we do and that Shane, our dye master, would help her.   She said she was ready, so I asked Shane to take care of her and he dropped what he was doing and came over. As he approached she sent him away abruptly saying she wasn’t ready, so he said to let him know when he could help her.

The woman continued to shop for wool and found another piece that would be suitable and then told Shane she wanted that piece torn in half as well. He obliged per the usual, tore the wool in half and relabeled it.

She announced she was finished and proceeded to the cashier counter where she started telling Shane how much she loved another shop elsewhere in Nova Scotia. How it was much better there. How that shop was inspirational, with stress on the word. She said every time she goes in there she loves it and comes out so inspired. Everyone there is so nice. She asked Shane if he had ever been there to which he replied “no”. So she told him, that he should go and get some inspiration, basically saying he needed it. That conversation droned on until she left our doorstep.   I hadn’t heard any of it as I was busy elsewhere but I had to laugh at the absurdity of it all when Shane relayed it.

I wonder why she even bothered to come in, other than to tell us we fell short.   One negative comment doesn’t spoil what we’ve built.   So many tell us that they are inspired in the shop I know the negative comments came from a mean spirited place. I hadn’t realized the dame came from Buckingham Palace and wasn’t used to waiting, but then again, it wouldn’t have changed a thing….first come first served is for commoners as well as the royals.

It was a good chuckle had by all. Madam, thank you so much for a bit of comic relief after the sadness of the past week.     And always there is balance. This morning a rug hooker and her husband were in the shop all the way from New York. Her husband thought our shop was the nicest one they’ve been in on their trip, and his wife, Sarah McNamara of Hand Rooked Rugs, thepaisleystudio.com agreed. We always appreciate a kind word, we work hard, do the best we can and love our little shop. When I go home at night, just before I turn off the lights I look down the length of the studio and smile to myself. It’s beautiful and I’m proud as punch.

The day was followed by a night out with the girls. Mary, Charlene and I headed to the Grand Banker for a bit of letting down of the hair. We had a fabulous meal followed by a delicious cake at Charlene’s. We all parted wondering why there weren’t more of these evenings with the girls, why will months separate them before someone says, let’s do it again? Day to day responsibilities sure have a way of absorbing all our attention, leaving fun second seated. We must make a pact to meet more often, smell the roses more.

Anyway, I was finally out of my sad funk and hooked on Sunday on my letter S. I’ve finally made the decision to go with the green sand now the rest should go easy and quick.

1 Comment

Majic Carpet Dyes?

8/12/2014

16 Comments

Hand me a bowling ball.....STRIKE!

The lack of Majic Carpet dye availability is becoming a desperate situation and anxiety is growing faster than mold in a damp basement. I am constantly asked what is going on, through several emails and phone calls a week as supplies are being exhausted all over North America. There are businesses out there, like us, who depend exclusively on the MC dyes to sell wool in their shops. Panic is setting in and after another frantic email yesterday, and phone call this morning, I thought I would cover it in today’s blog.

Truthfully I know as little as the next person. The situation is either unknown or people aren’t talking. I’ve put feelers out but nothing comes back.   I’m not a cold, heartless bastard. I know something drastic must have happened to the players who manufacture the dyes…I sympathize, but that doesn’t help the fact that we are suffering here, and are scared shitless that the MC dyes are over.   I have employees who depend on me and a business to run; I need answers to see what the future will hold. All I want is an answer to the question we are all thinking.....what is going on?

I feel, with our many dye books, that we have helped put the MC dyes on the map and it would be respectful to let us know one way or another if our business will be able to survive, give us the opportunity to plan for the worse scenario or just wait out this bump in the road until we see the light at the end of this tunnel.   We are now so close to running out of blue we’re sweating bullets. We live in the Maritimes, wool for bodies of water and sky are staples to our stock. There are two more colours down to fumes so our dye pots are dangerously close to being retired.

For years our dye books have been hugely popular with our intricate formulas and rich colour combinations. We’ve built our business on these dyes, and have thousands of dollars’ worth of books stored in the closet. So I have a lot of paper to burn if the dyes are no longer available. Maybe I’ll wallpaper them to the kitchen walls as a constant reminder not to put all our eggs in one basket. Too bad outhouses weren’t still being used; we could throw out the Sear’s catalog and use the dye books, keeping the townsfolk in paper for a year.

I’m trying to make jokes and be optimistic, not exactly a quality I’m intimate with, especially being faced with pending doom. On occasion I’m known to be a glass half empty kind of soul who needs to constantly remind myself how fortunate I am in all things, but in this particular situation I need to have hope so desperately that I am willing to put on a smiley face and believe that everything will be okay.

My son is freaking because his job is on the line. No dyes, no work.   I try to diffuse the angst by convincing him that whatever is going on will get straightened out, but in my head the words are caked with fear. I have sent off several emails saying that I would be more than happy to buy the rights to the dyes, that I would fly there to discuss the possibly, but they haven’t acknowledged the receipt of my offers.   They don't answer the phone. Shane would be fabulous at mixing and supplying the dyes. His abilities for accuracy and strict attention to detail would make him a skilled chemist in mixing and blending the powders.

In the meantime we are being forced to diversify. I will have to buy other dyes to sell and use in the shop. If need be, I am hopeful we can adapt other dye powders to achieve the same colours we are known for. With a bit of work and a whole lot of patience it can be achieved, at least for the shop to continue offering the spectacular colours we supply the faithful customers who rely on our wool.   And not to worry just yet, our shelves are stocked to capacity but by the end of summer if we don’t pick up the slack with other colorants it will start to look sad around here.

Maybe we will come up with our own dyes, who knows, the possibilities could be endless if we want them to be. Together, Shane and I could work it all out, we are two smart enough cookies. I only wish we knew one way or another the future of the MC dyes are so we can stop stressing over the unknown and start rebuilding from the ground up.   We can’t afford to wait much longer and the longer we delay the harder it will be. In retrospect we should never have put all our eggs in one basket, and now that they are a rotten, scrambled mess, we have to think outside the box and come up with a plan B.

If anyone out there knows what the situation is, please take pity on us and email me privately to tell us one way or another, so we can choose which direction to follow and begin to pull our heads above water.   I promise to be discreet.

P.S. - I wrote this several weeks ago in a rather dark moment but thought it best to wait a while longer, hoping against hope that word would come. But nothing has so we bit the bullet and stocked the shop with Jacquard Acid Dyes. Shane has been in the dye pots full time pumping out spectacular colours. We are very optimistic for the shop as they are a superior product and offer 40 colours to play with. Stay tuned for us to knock your socks off, or dye them if you wish!

Dyes are $5.50/Bottle

16 Comments

Touchy or touched?

8/11/2014

19 Comments

What’s up with people these days? Are skins thinning and tempers shortening? Why is everyone so bloody touchy?    A mere comment can send people huffing away, so insulted they won’t darken your door again? Are people regressing back to a grade school mentality? For goodness sake, sticks and stones will break your bones but comments shouldn’t make you do a runner! It’s time to toughen up people!

In this changing world common sense seems to have been replaced with a lack of consideration for others, the only question is where was I when they sent out the memo?   First of all I wouldn’t be so bold as to take food or drink into a store but if for some reason, a brain fart occurred and I enter an establishment with a coffee, and if I was asked to set it down, I wouldn’t get my back up or feel anything but stupid for the mistake I was making. I’d obey meekly, and then have a look around, probably make a guilt purchase to show the store owner I’m not a complete, inconsiderate jerk. I care what others think of me and go out of my way to not break rules or step on toes. I guess I’m old school cause this is no longer the flavour of the day.

Twice last week groups of people walked out of the shop because of things I said to them. First of all, I get to work and a big ass vehicle, one of those 10 seater, fuel guzzling SUV’s was parked behind the shop and not well, it was taking up two of our parking spaces. We have little room behind there for our cars as my land only goes to the end of my back bumper and side to side, only three cars fit comfortably. The other tenant in the building was parked there and then Shane and I fill in the rest of the space. I squeezed in but I knew my son’s car would never make it and that vehicle would end up being parked in. That's happened before and let me tell you, the expletives coming out of one woman's mouth, who ripped into my husband because he was parked behind her, I wouldn't care to repeat in mixed company!

I entered the shop, saw three woman in the back room looking at patterns and asked politely if it was their vehicle. They said yes and I told them it was private packing behind the building and told them nicely that vehicles can park anywhere along the street in Mahone Bay for free, first come first serve sort of affair. They said "we’ll leave" and were gone.   I did tell them that for now Shane would temporarily park behind them but they left anyway, almost tripping over themselves getting out the door. That’s three hookers that will never come back.   I guess I should have the attitude it’s their loss instead of letting it upset me but then maybe I’m assuming…maybe they thought my shop sucked and were planning to leave anyway.

Then three people of my vintage came in with coffees. You could tell that they were hot and full by the way they held them. I politely said, while in the shop could you please set your drinks on the counter. One of them said, “I didn’t see a sign". The other said, “There is no sign”. The third said, “There should be a sign” and they all promptly left. Now I’m not up on all the rules and curtacies of this world but isn’t it standard not to take food or drink into a shop of any kind. If you don’t know this, someone should question what planet you’re from.   I have had a sign in the past but it went AWOL, and no one ever saw it anyway because I continually had to say no food and drink. Since I’ve been open, I’ve told hundreds of people to set their drinks on the counter and probably 85% of them have stormed out the door.   So you're now thinking, why don't I just keep my mouth shut, but you see it's only a matter of time before there is an incident, a trip and spill on someones consignment rug and that's something I don't want to, or should have to, deal with.

I especially like the kids with ice cream, popsicles and all manner of melting treats, who trot in after mom and dad. God forbid you say anything about someone’s precious little darling with sticky fingers, they storm out like I’m contagious. I’m in business to sell things, I do need customers so sometimes I bite my tongue afraid to open my mouth! I’ve watched gooey fingers fondle my hooks and quite frankly, it’s stuff nightmares are made off. One time, an unruly child, after being told repeatedly not to touch anything, did a running dive into a basket of wool with a big sucker in his hand, which he dropped on impact. I guess I’m supposed to charge extra for the sticky bits on the wool.   The fact that the basket was an expensive antique that cracked on one side from the landing didn’t seem to bother anyone but me.

And yes, you can help yourself to a coffee in the shop but that doesn’t mean I want you wondering around with it, bending over to look at things. Set it on the table while you look at the patterns, or sit down and peruse the blog binders and design book or stand and chat at the counter, common sense would dictate you don’t go walking around?

This reminds me of a story. I was once in a quilt store gabbing with the owner. The quilts were all hand made, no machine ever touched the fabric. They were very expensive and the sales people were vigilant about handing out white cotton gloves to all who came through the door. Finger oils stain and nobody's hands are surgery ready. One couple came in and they were offered the gloves which they promptly turned down and in a snotty voice, the woman said they would NOT be touching the quilts. Vicki told me to watch…..she went directly to an all-white, $2500.00 piece of fabric art and ran her hand along the stitching. Obviously, I’m not the only one dealing with strange people, but what gives?

Vicki told me this happens all the time. Some became indignant and turn on their heel and leave, insulted as if the glove had slapped them across the face. I think this kind of attitude should be one of the strange phenomenons that's covered on the TV show “Weird or What?”   Splain it to me William Shatner, cause I don’t get it.

If I spit out, “ Look people, put your damn drinks down or get the hell out” why I would totally understand the stampede out the door. Or if I was sarcastic and said, don’t worry about spilling coffee on this one of a kind, custom designed $1000.00 plus masterpiece, we don’t mind....I could understand how that might offend.

Maybe I embarrass them? They know better and once it’s been established that they’ve been called on the carpet, they feel ashamed and want to leave? Or maybe they think their shit doesn’t stink, (a local colloquialism) and how dare that lowly shop keep telling them where to stick their coffee? But gee, just for a minute, think of how the person in the shop feels about your rudeness when they are only trying to protect their merchandise. If anyone tripped and soiled a consignment rug, that $1.75 coffee would be the most expensive drink you’ve ever had.....but who am I kidding, I'd be left holding that bag as you skip out the door, refusing to pay for your damage, probably blaming me for having rugs in the store in the first place.

19 Comments

August POM Contest

8/8/2014

3 Comments

We've honoured the cat for May so we need equal time for man's and woman's best friend. August's Pattern of the Month Contest design is all about the dog days of summer.   Charlene brought this interesting saying to my attention and I thought it was perfect.    It means the sultry part of the summer, supposed to occur during the period that Sirius, the Dog Star, rises at the same time as the sun, now often reckoned from July 3rd to August 11th.

I tried to do a generic dog that you could make changes too to reflect the breed you love. We may not have a hammock at our house but the overall feel of this design suits the laid back luxury of my pup's life. They are a pampered pack and I'm sure they think of bones all day and every night in their dreams, along with chasing rabbits.

My mother-in-law likes to say, "It's a dogs life" at my house. Not so sure what it's supposed to mean but sometimes it's followed by "Who needs four dogs?" Well, in my case need never came into play. The heart wants what the heart wants, and luckily I desire to snuggle with poodles, not other men, right hubby?   So this one is for the dog lover in us all!

We are making a change to the contest. It's apparent that of the 400 - 500 hundred or so free patterns we hand out every month, not one of them are being submitted as hooked rugs for the monthly contest. My hope for this event was to offer a free pattern to be hooked for the draws, and because no one has submitted any to be judged or to show that they've been hooking it, we will no longer include the pattern unless it is requested. Too many trees being wasted.....so many bundles of paper, ink to print and labour to sort, staple and fold each month.

For those who purchase them monthly they are a little late due to the shop being so busy this time of year. They are going in the mail today, sorry for any inconvenience.

3 Comments

Hookers on crack.....

8/7/2014

4 Comments

Pam holding a piece of Crack. The pups are looking on thinking, that looks like something familiar....

It was a wild time at the hook-in last evening. We reached an all time high....we all did crack! Well, not me actually, I just smelled it so one could say I sniffed crack. Darn diabetes! It sure smelled divine and I watched it go into the mouths of my lucky friends and I had to settle for swallowing drool.

A couple of weeks ago, Pam was telling us about a to-die-for chocolate treat and last evening she brought in a bag of Crack for us to sample. None of us having experience with such things, all agreed that Crack was something they would do again, although it could be very addictive! The recipe will follow for those at home that would also like to try crack. It looks like a piece of bark but tastes like a slice of heaven.....if it tastes as good as it smells that is.

Our group was small but lively. We usually laugh a lot but last night was overly riotous, maybe it was all the sugar! Four of the diehards showed up so we gathered round and had a grand old time. I brought the pups to the hook-in because it started to thunder as I was leaving the house. They didn't mind at all.

Anne (left) and Shelley (right)

Pam is almost finished the bricks on her Stepping Stones.

Charlene is whipping a small piece for a women who had some unfinished rugs that belonged to her mother.

Anne was the winner of the Pattern of the Month Club Contest and carried off her three yards of Dorr Natural. She will be using it to dye for and complete her pattern Alice. Great job Anne!

Crack

1 package semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 package butterscotch chipits
1 bag plain potato chips

Melt the semi-sweet and butterscotch chips (microwave or double
boiler...whichever suits you best!)

Mix together.

Crush the potatoes chips and pour into the melted chipits.
Mix well then spread onto a baking sheet. Put pan in the freezer and
when hard, crack into smaller pieces.

Enjoy!! (best kept in freezer or fridge or mouth)

4 Comments

Word duking in the street........

8/6/2014

1 Comment

On Monday I witnessed a classic case of not taking responsibility for your own actions. Although Monday was a holiday I offered to open the shop for a 2:30 appointment. It being a much needed day off, I was winging it pretty close to that time and upon leaving the house, I was finding it difficult to navigate through traffic with the amount of cars and people weaving in and out in front of me. Mahone Bay was abuzz with people. As I approached the government wharf, there was bicycle in front of me so I had to slow down to a snail’s pace. This allows me to vouch for the declarations of the biker following a mishap.

The left side of the road was a string of cars along the curb, all the way to the center of town, except of course for the driveways. All of a sudden an SUV pulled out of one of the driveways into traffic, not looking my way at all and was well out past the car to his left that was parked along the curb. The biker in front of me screamed something to the tune of stop and the car immediately halted but it was pretty close. Not only had the driver pulled out in front of the biker but my vehicle as well. Luckily there weren’t any cars behind me when I slammed on the brakes. With a potentially bad scene abated, I politely allowed the SUV to pull out the rest of the way and I followed him into town.

It remained a slow process to get through town with all the people jaywalking and bottle necking the road. By the time we made it to the center of town I noticed the biker guy was in front of Eli’s Cafe chatting with people on the deck. The SUV driver also saw him and stopped right in the road and hollered something out of the window to the biker. I really can’t say what was said, but the biker responded by saying, "I wasn’t speeding", Then following another comment from the driver said, "I wasn't speeding, I was only going 25 clicks".

I gathered from that answer that the chap in the SUV was accusing the biker of speeding and therefore responsible for almost causing an accident. The biker crossed the road and was standing at the driver’s window and the shouting match ensued. Knowing the truth of what had happened it was interesting to hear the conversation evolve as the decibel level swiftly rose. Soon the voices were booming and all eyes were on the commotion.

The biker guy hollered, “You didn’t even check to see what was coming, I saw you looking the other way!”. The man in the car kept insisting the biker was speeding and on it went until not being able to win and shout the biker into a confession, he zoomed away. As I pulled up to the biker walking back to his friends I called out to him and said that I saw the entire mishap and that the SUV pulled out on us both, I too saw that he didn’t looked our way and that the biker was right. The guy said thank-you, but I could hear the exasperation in his voice for what had just happened.   When an SUV and bike collide, you don’t have to be a brain surgeon to know which one takes the fall, literally. When riding a bike or motorcycle, you have to be super vigilant about your surroundings. Both the SUV driver and passenger’s heads were looking to the left, making sure they wouldn’t hit an oncoming car as they veered out around the parked car. Not a thought to what might be approaching from the right. That split second of error could have cost that biker his life.

I’m happy nothing serious happened. No one got hurt and I wasn’t delayed as a witness to an accident. I made it to the shop with a minute to spare to open for the visitors that came from away. I never thought to take pictures of their smiling faces.

We seem to live in a world where no one makes mistakes. It’s always the other guy’s fault. If only SUV guy had shouted out the window an embarrassed “I’m sorry”. For the life of me I can’t understand why he could be so arrogant to think this wasn’t his fault. Near misses happen to us all and should be rejoiced and used as a chance to reflect and show more care and caution in the future. It was good that everyone involved got to walk or drive away, thanking their lucky stars, instead of almost seeing them.

1 Comment

Pattern of the Month Winner for the May entry!!

8/5/2014

1 Comment

Anne Holmes, come on down and claim your prize!!!

The judges unanimously loved the kittens and their whiskers!

I've been a bit slow getting out the August pattern but I'll have it by the end of the day. Between the shop crazy busy and this weekend's Pirate Festival & Regatta I haven't had a minute! To check out our contest click this link. It's never too late to join!

http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/contests

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Dawson Daisy find

8/1/2014

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Thursday I had a lovely catch-up with an old friend, Esther Ernst-Pike. We met while I was in my twenties and for a period I worked a Sunday shift taking care of an elderly woman with Parkinsons who was in a wheelchair and needed assistance with personal care. Esther was a nurse and the job was a seven mornings a week position and spelling her allowed for a break, maybe have some fun Saturday nights and sleep in on Sunday.

It was a good time for me. I loved taking care of Lucy. She was a lady from the top of her head down to the tips of her toes and both she and her husband were still deeply in love well into their 90’s. Their faces lit up when she emerged from the bedroom freshly quaffed and wearing her pearls. For as long as I live, I’ll never forget the look they shared as their eyes met. I had worked as a PCW at Harbour View Haven for a year so I was qualified to assist in bed baths and personal care and it was nice that I could do this for both Esther and Lucy.

I always thought Esther was cool, she seemed to have a knack for things, a flair. A smart dresser, she liked antiques and had a pretty interesting apartment. She wasn’t rich by any

means but had taste and with taste you don’t always need a lot of money to do it right.

Last week, we ran into one another in the grocery store and she was telling me that she purchased a partially finished rug at the Dawson Daisy in Bridgewater. The Daisy is a second hand outlet for low-cost clothing that has raised millions of dollars to fund local health-care services at the South Shore Regional Hospital. Raising over $200,000 a year is a result of a tremendous amount of volunteer effort. Each year the Daisy donates its profits to the auxiliary of the SSRH. The auxiliary in turn funds equipment and upgrades in the hospital as well as community health initiatives.

The outlet is run like a small department store. Each week store displays are changed so the shop always looks fresh and new. clothing items on display are specific to that season and each rack is separated according to gender and/or type. Those items are further divided into subsections such as sweaters, coats, pants and dresses. There are also handbag and shoe sections. And, although it is limited, there is a household section where you can find dishes and small kitchen appliances.

On one of Esther's many jaunts to the Daisy, she found a partially hooked pattern of a funky sheep. She said it was an oval design and that she paid $40.00 for it. I assumed it was Wooly Willy, an old time favourite from the beginning days of my business. She said she would pop into the shop someday soon to show me her purchase. So it was a delight to see her yesterday and catch up on news. Sure enough it was Willy, one of the first sheep patterns I ever designed and was originally hooked by Mary Doig.

The inside oval background was completed with only the border remaining. Esther doesn't hook and wondered if I finished projects for people, that maybe I was interested because it was my pattern. Unfortunately, I'm far too busy for that sort of thing although deep inside there was an urge to say yes so thank goodness I suppressed it! That paved road of good intentions always leads me to a bad place. As she rolled it up, she said she has a friend in Lunenburg that hooks and she would ask for her help. Then we started to gab.

I was very surprised to learn she is a cancer survivor. That was why she was at the Dawson Daisy. After many trips to the hospital she would check out the latest arrivals on the racks. She's always been a Frenchy's gal, finding some pretty fantastic apparel over the years.

Esther was lucky, they caught her cancer in stage one and she only had to undergo a lumpectomy with mild radiation treatments. She told me she never let it get her down and was optimistic through it all. Her doctor thought she was amazing. She'd come home from a radiation appointment and opt to go cross country skiing to breathe in the fresh air of winter instead of take to her bed to wallow. I always had her pegged as the happy go lucky sort, she was always smiling and is definitely lucky!

So thank-you Esther for bringing in the rug and providing this lovely little story. My curious nature wonders why it was never finished, how it found its way into the Daisy bins. More than likely the rug was a work in progress and the hooker probably passed away, their personal items boxed up and donated to the Daisy. If I was able to finish it, my thoughts would drift and make up scenarios about the person that started it. Maybe someone local will read this and recognize the handiwork. The mystery of this rug could be solved.

Wooly Willy hooked by Mary Doig

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