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We're just a bunch of pan handlers!

9/30/2013

This is what you call heads above the rest....I couldn't resist!

At Encompassing Designs we like to work smarter, not harder, so we’re always looking for ways to cut time from a job and minimize waste while continuing to offer quality you can rely on.   For years I’ve said I should have been an efficiency expert, if such a thing exists, but I don’t hold a candle to my son Shane.

Give him a job and he will come up with a way to make it easier and faster....things I've never even considered. I’m impressed that the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree and proud that he can beat his momma on a few things.

Shane does the dyeing for the shop, draws patterns and does arm-long lists of jobs that might not be seen on the surface but keeps the place running like a well-greased wheel. Everything he’s touched has been altered to work faster. I heard a saying once “Give a job to a lazy person and he'll find a way to do it faster”. Now Shane isn't lazy so that really doesn’t apply, but it could read, “Give a job to a genius and he’ll find a way to revolutionize the process.”

Different dyeing techniques call for various timing for prep and execution. Scrunching wool in a pan to spot can be labour intensive because the secret to the overall appeal is the tightness and height of the folds which of course, takes time to place.   Then the uniformity of the various colours can depend on how you place the dye over these folds. Too high or floppy folds mean dye won’t seep to the bottom and you have to spend more time digging out between the flaps to find the white spots. My son has the spot dye down to a science. I'll admit his scrunching is superior to mine.…momma doesn’t have as much patience, so there’s more chance of being sloppy…the dear boy's words, not mine.

Spot dyes require proper pans and we’ve looked for them in yard sales and hardware stores. We've tried glass, enamel and steel all with varying results. I guess that would make Shane and I just a bunch of pan handlers.....   Most large open-faced pans come with areas around the perimeter that are lower than the center of the pan, a trough along the edge for drainage when cooking I guess. After my father passed away I found two large pans in his panty that have served us very well over the years but I have never seen another pan like them so we pray they have a long life.

These stainless steel vessels hold a half yard of wool comfortably and although they still have that channel around the outer perimeter I have found it can be useful to create a slightly darker edge that can be used for a bit of shading. so if you have a grassy green spot and need a bit of a shadow under a bush, the darker edges are perfect!

Most of the enameled or glass pans we found weren’t quite the right size; the glass was too elongated and the enameled one was overall too small to make the right kind of folds needed to support all the different colours in the spot. So we toyed with the idea to have a few pans custom made and as we worked out the pros and cons the idea struck to have one fabricated large enough to hold an entire yard of wool and flat bottomed for even distribution of dye.

So we contacted a local welder and requested a pan with the dimension of the inside of our oven.   As big as we could go without touching the inside walls of the stove. It worked like a charm. Of course everything had to be doubled, the formula and the water to sufficiently cover twice as much wool. We don’t use it often, Shane says that it takes him more time scrunching the wool into the tiny folds in the larger pan than he is able to process in two ½ yds ones, but I beg to differ and there might have to be a spot "dye off" to see which one leads the race.  Even though it may take more time preparing the wool for the big pan, it does cut down on the energy spent in oven heat and that kind of efficiency saves money and, more importantly, dyes twice as much for the wool racks.

So for all you dyers out there that sell wool, having a pan made to order can cut down on the time you are slaving over a the spot dye.   The pan cost $30.00 to have made and that was paid for with the first piece of wool dyed. One thing we didn’t take into account was that the two older stoves we work on might not have the same dimensions inside the oven so the pan we had made only fits the one stove. Who’d of thunk?   Even genius can learn from experience! We had a second pan made and now we're covered.

One thing I will caution about. Make sure the pan's inside corners are smooth. No areas where dye can settle in and later ooze out to stain the next piece of wool. Explain to the person making up the pan that there can't be any areas that leave gaps or where dyed water can get in.

The pan to the left is the normal size we would use to dye a 1/2 yd piece of wool.

Look at all those folds of delicious colour! Grass and foliage, here I come!

The dye formula used for this demonstration was Kermit. See it on the site by clicking the link:
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/dyed-spots.html

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Oh lord....the flies!

9/28/2013

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When I got home from work last evening I took the pups out for some circle running on the neighbour’s hill. Poodles tend to run in circles, or maybe all dogs do, I have no frame of reference other than my guys, all I know is that the four of them speed around and around, ears flying in the wind.

We exercised and threw ball and they played games of chase…all the pent of energy of a day home alone melting away in the warm, afternoon breeze.

Then we went inside for a drink and that’s when I first I noticed that Jake was acting funny. He was panting and tried to hide behind me on the chair. I was giving them a chicken handout and usually he’s the greedy one but now he wouldn’t take the food at all. Alarms starting going off, my baby was sick! I pick him up and he’s shaking like a leaf and I know you aren’t supposed to coddle that kind of behavior or you can teach the pup to be neurotic so I put him down and tried to distract him from whatever might be bugging him. I didn't realize at the time that "bugging" couldn't be closer to the truth.

Not knowing for sure what was the matter and him not being able to tell me, I considered a call to the vet. After hours isn’t cheap but money isn’t a factor when it comes to the pooches, I’m prepared to remortgage my house if need be, but I like to examine and work the situation in my head first to make sure I’m not wasting my money and their time. I tried to stay calm....panic is not an option as they smell that and it makes any situation worse.

I got out the dust mop as that usually drives all four of them crazy and I hoped it would distract him and take him out of his head, but he just looked on as the rest lost their minds. Then he went over to the door and sat on the mat, pleading with his eyes to go outside. So we sat on the back deck and he cuddled next to me and seemed okay. We sat there awhile pondering life and the beauty of the day then went back inside. The shaking and panting started up again. I took him upstairs and put him on the bathroom vanity for a thorough examination thinking maybe he played too hard and got injured but all bone and muscles checked without any whimpering. I did notice he stopped panting and shaking. So I checked his gums, he even took some water and then we went back downstairs.

So, I put my Sherlock hat on and looked up some of the causes of shaking and panting on the internet. Heart was listed so I listened with my stethoscope but all was normal. Toxins sounded scary but he’d ingested nothing as I watch them when they’re outside and don’t let them eat things I’m not sure off. I'd ruled out injury and there hadn’t been anything frightening, not that I knew of. I thought a massage might calm him down so I placed him on his back and rubbed his little belly which he seemed to respond too. After he was relaxed I was feeling confident the incident was over.....until a housefly buzzed by. Jake immediately jumps up and hides behind me, starting up the panting and the shaking all over again.   I thought it was weird but dismissed the bug as a coincidence.

So I went out to the kitchen and Jake followed me. All of a sudden a low flyer buzzed by and he ducked as if a kamikaze pilot had zeroed in on him. He scrunched down low and look absolutely petrified.   The clues were undeniable so I had to deduce a fly had terrorized my pup. That’s when I noticed there seemed to be a load of bot flies in the house. I don’t know where they came from because I take the garbage out each morning on the way to the car but regardless, there was about 30 -40 of them on the windows in the living room clinging to the last of the day’s sun.

I got out the swatter and started the annihilation. All the dogs headed for the upstairs not too happy with the swatting. The flies were a bit sluggish so most were direct hits but there were times when they outsmarted me so it was like playing Whack-A-Mole. The darn things fly backwards from a sitting position and have eyes in the back of their head that see the world 360*.

By now the sun had gone down so I knew the trick; turned out all the lights except one area so they would pool there and pick them off like sitting ducks. They seek light, so are easy to corral and picked off in a smaller space. It was whack, wipe and wash. I lost count as the bodies racked up. I used Kleenex to pick up the carnage. Then I had to wash the kill site with soapy water, cleaning the evidence as if a crime had taken place, like a serial killer hiding his tracks. I now sport a new hat, I'm a serial bug killer!

Being inundated with blot flies seems to happen yearly about this time. So, mystery solved on the Jake shake! Something must have happened while I was at work. Maybe one landed on his nose. Or maybe he pounced on one and got buzzed at. Scary noise for a little guy. Hopefully I eradicated the problem but I might have to take him to work with me tomorrow. I can’t have the little guy afraid of his own house if more get in somehow.  He’s sitting on my lap now, fed and content that the house is quiet again. I just love when they need their mom, pressing themselves tight to you for protection. No better feeling in the world than being needed.

So the serial killer reference reminds me that I promised myself to dedicate all my undivided attention to the shop for the summer months and once fall hit, I would then pick up writing on my novel and get it ready to send to the women who offered to help with the editing. I'm telling you this because I won’t be blogging on Saturday’ for a while, dedicating the weekends to my book. Truthfully, Saturdays are so busy there isn't time to get upstairs to post it anyway, such as today...it's 4:00...the first break I've had all day!

The goal is to have the book printed before February so there’s a lot to do. It might be an unrealistic time frame, but that’s my goal so we’ll see how far I get.   So from now on I'll blog Monday to Friday unless something really juicy happens that I just can’t wait to share.

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Jo-Ann's Deli Market & Bake Shop

9/27/2013

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Jo-Ann's Deli Market & Bake Shop, Mahone Bay, NS

I will never forget the day I was in Dawson City, on a geology research outing with hubby, when I perused the magazine rack in one of the local outfitter shops and saw Celebration's 2000 Edition, the yearly publication of juried hooked rugs. A Celebration of Hand Hooked Rugs in Dawson City? Go figure. You can't even buy that magazine in most stores back home let alone be in the sticks of Dawson where gold mining is the resident obsession, not wool crafts.   And when I flipped the book open, the first page I saw was a rug representing Jo-Ann's Market in little ole Mahone Bay!
http://www.joannsdelimarket.ca/

A recent convert to the craft and always on the lookout for anything I could find on rug hooking, I'd brought my hooking with me, to work on Navigator's Delight Compass Rose when the guys were in the field. That was back in the day before I hung my shop sign, but it was definitely a bun in the oven. Hubby and I had been out west visiting his parents when this opportunity popped up and I didn't want to be left behind so I asked if I could go along for the ride, the company said yes and I was nominated chief cook and bottle washer.

We rented an RV in Whitehorse and I went to the closest grocery store to stock up on grub which led to a frightening experience in the parking lot. Being from a small town, homeless people weren't that common an occurrence, but I saw plenty hanging around the store asking for handouts from the people emerging with their bags. I'm pretty much an old softy so it broke my heart and I couldn't resist their pleas but one guy was a bit more persistent and kept following me after I'd given him a tin of beans. He made me very nervous. He was filthy, I could smell him at fifty paces and he looked hard, more like alcoholic hard than living on the street hard. I picked up my step and pretty much jogged the cart to the RV, bouncing the crap out of the contents. The guy sped up and matched my stride, even with a gimpy leg. I didn't want to speculate if he was after my purse or the food in the cart, because neither prospect was comforting. I was hauling $300.00 worth of groceries, and who wants to loose a wallet?

Panting, I made it to the RV and he's at my heels, like a dog after a bone. I pounded on the door expecting to be clobbered over the head at any moment. Hubby opens the door and my pursuer stopped dead in his tracks, or so it seemed to the panicked eye. He stood close by as we unloaded the groceries and when the cart was empty he stepped forward and motioned toward it. That's when hubby clued in that the man was after the quarter deposit you pay to unlock the cart, which is returned when you bring it back to the bay; a service the homeless offer so you don't have to walk all the way back to the store but more as an entrepreneurial pursuit that paid quite well.    Torn between the fear of an attack and the sadness of the homeless situation, the experience etched a permanent memory o my brain.

All I remember about the drive to Dawson was the devastation of miles and miles of burnt out forest along both sides of the road; char, as far as the eyes could see. A devastating forest fire had ripped through the countryside destroying thousands of hectares in it's wake. Not much to hold your attention so the drive seemed endless.

But, all in all the trip was fun. I can cook and men can eat, a good combination and not a bad exchange for a free holiday. Dawson didn't offer much for me but I got a pair of over priced gold nugget earrings as a memento of my brief stay. The place was smaller than Mahone Bay so I walked and explored the length of the downtown area in minutes and then spent the rest of the time hooking in the RV and preparing meals.

When we arrived in Dawson we found out that it was the peak of hunting season and all the helicopters, bush guides and trackers were engaged, so the only way to get to the X on the map was to rent a couple of four wheelers and tenting gear for their overnight stay. The guys were only gone for half a day when they returned with their insides shaken enough to rearrange internal organs. It was like riding a wild, bucking horse; more than a bumpy ride and not worth beating themselves up on the uneven, rocky landscape. That evening we went out for a bit of music and dancing and headed back home in the morning. That's about it for the memories of the area, although I failed to mention that the scenery was breath taking and the air was crisp and clean. The geology project failed and with the mission aborted, we headed back to BC.

So every time I see the pumpkins on the Market roof I think of Dawson.  The scene is  a tradition in our town, a reminder of the upcoming Scarecrow Festival and a marker to signify fall has arrived.  Soon these shapely canvasses will be carved with personalities and displayed for the festivities, but in the meantime they are front and center adding a splash of orange to the landscape.

29" x 37", #3 cut wool on wool kimonos

Fumiyo Hachisuka learned to hook rugs in 1979 while loving in Toronto. Her first teacher was Fannie Sinclair. When Fumiyo ("who-me-yo") returned to Japan in 1983, she continued to learn from books she took with her. She began to teach in 1984 because she felt lonely without other rug hookers around. She holds a yearly rug exhibit at the Shinjuku Promenade Gallery and teaches nine classes a month at several cultural centers. Rug hooking is slowly becoming popular in Japan.

Fumiyo was so moved by brilliant orange pumpkins lining a stand at the Mahone Bay Market in Nova Scotia that she decided to capture the moment in wool. A few sketches later, Mahone Bay Market was ready to hook and what an incredible piece of rug hooking art it is.

(Sorry the picture is so blurry, it didn't scan well from the magazine)

Navigator's Delight. The second compass rose I've hooked. This is a terrible picture and looks nothing like the original rug.

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Busy day of show and tell!

9/26/2013

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Dorothy Hicks showing her "Chickers" rug, a cute play on words for the chickens and the checker board design.

Marsha Wong nearing the completion of "Seafood Buffet".

Two Antigonish gals proudly strutting their stuff. Dorothy did a bang up job on the Chickers design. The eggs sure pop, the colours are rich and hold great depth! A sweet pattern for an antique trunk or coffee table. I have a version of this rug hanging in the shop. I use it as a display piece to show students what a rug looks like hooked with yarn. It's one of those patterns that can be viewed from either side and is practical in the sense that you can actually play checkers on it. Imagine an evening by the fire, laying on your belly on the floor, eating pop corn and playing a game of "King Me".

Marsha Wong said she bought "Seafood Buffet" from me years ago at Cornwallis rug school, maybe back in 2006. She opted not to do the interesting border but it will look just as nice; after all it's the inside of the design that steals the show. The lobster is surrounded by a bevy of seafood, thence the name, a smorgasbord of shrimps, clams, and muscles. Get out the seafood sauce, and gather round the table! I think I'll be looking in the lobster tank at the grocery store on the way home from work!

Pattern size 33" x 25"

Yum, who doesn't love a good lobster. A comedian once said, "The first man to eat a lobster had to be pretty darn hungry considering how ugly they are!" He's right, they aren't the most beautiful creatures in the sea but to me, they're the tastiest. Commonly referred to as "the cockroach of the ocean", the lobster has a surprising history; from food for the poor, servants, prisoners, to a soldier’s staple, it is now everybody’s idea of a delicacy. The lobster is one of the most remarkable rebrandings in product history.

Pattern can be viewed on the site.
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/new-designs.html

I Lobster But Never Flounder Lyrics by Pinkard & Bowden
I was a cook
and she was a waitress
down at the Salty Sam Seafood Café
and somewhere 'tween the clam juice and the seaweed salad
some little shrimp just lured her away

Oh, I lobster and never flounder
he wrapped his line around her
and they drove off in his carp
oh, I lobster and never flounder
I octopus his face in
eel only break her heart

I said, "Just squid and leave me
for that piano tuna
if you want to trout something new"
She was the bass I ever had
now my life has no porpoise
oh, my cod, I love her, yes, I do

It's a catchy tune....click the link for a YouTube video....
the song ends with
"Frankly scallop, I don't give a clam".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T1CEvt2lyuc

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Women of Abundance strikes a memory!

9/25/2013

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By Guest Blogger Patricia Truesdale

I had so much fun hooking this pattern. The original design was a half moon and I asked you to square up the pattern.

I had three sisters, family friends from Wisc., in mind when I hooked The Girls by Sue Cunningham. They visit their cottage every summer together.  I had fun choosing/hooking their hair & bathing suits.

I was hush hush when hooking the pattern and on their most recent visit was thrilled to show them the completed rug. It was great! They looked at the rug, at me, the rug again, and then a rush of questions as to just how I captured them so well without even so much as a photograph!  I told them about your website and Sue Cunningham's Abundant Women designs.

I'm currently working on one of your fun snowman designs.  I'll be certain to chose another Abundant Women pattern to work on over the winter.

-Patricia Truesdale

Note: This design is currently the pattern of the week.

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Making a purse out of a dollar store find....

9/24/2013

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"Give a woman a hooked rug and she'll smile for a day, teach a woman to hook and she'll smile for a lifetime. " C. Little

J0-Anne left and Bev on the right, two gals who know how to have a good time!

I had a bunch of good time gals in the shop yesterday. I haven't heard that much giggling in a long time. Vacationing from Ontario, these glass-half-full gals probably have a great time everywhere they go.

Jo-Anne Koch from Cobden and Bev Swrjeski from Killaloe, both from areas I'd never heard of and was told they are little Irish towns.

They were bubbling over with enthusiasm to be in the shop...and then I spied the bag Jo-Anne was carrying and zoomed in with my eye and then grabbed the camera!

Jo-Anne ended up buying a floor frame and I packed it up in a box and they were laughing all the way out the door that they planned to stuff the remaining space full of their purchases from Nova Scotia, to make up the 50 Kilograms the airline will allow. They'd been looking all around the county for a second hand suitcase to stuff to the seams so the frame box fit the plan. What a hoot they were and definitely women you'd want in your hooking group. Laughter really is the best medicine and they were both good pills!

Head to the dollar store and find these neat burlap bags and hook a motif for a custom carryall. Last year I bought a dozen when someone came in with one. I sent out my personal shopper, Sue to buy out the store. I didn't know yet what I might do with them, just planned to do something.

I thought maybe it would be fun to hook a small piece and then attach it to the bag because I was worried about the plastic liner but Jo-Anne just punched right through it with her hook. Of course you can't put it on a frame but that didn't deter her and said the bag itself acted as a weight to hold it down. Actually you could put a hoop inside the bag to push out the sides to make it rigid! I'm going to try it tomorrow to see if it works.

The bag has cotton handles and is a nice size for travelling, to hold a purse and all the stuff we women like to haul around. Not bad for a $2.00 find. I've used a couple of them to give as gift bags, one went for the draw when the busload of hookers visited the shop last Monday. If only I'd thought about hooking something on it to further jazz up the prize! Ah, maybe next time!

*************************************************************************************************************************

Well, I started the day off butt lagging. I was up late working and then was too exhausted to sleep....but once I hit the car and turned on the radio to find ZZ Top, Sharp Dressed Man I pushed the volume button to ridiculous and boom boxed my way to work tapping and boppin in my seat. Instant energy! Who needs uppers when you can tune into rock guitar nirvana!

Shane is zippy too. I hear him downstairs zapping fruitflies with that battery operated Executioner. They're terrible right now and if we forget and leave vinegar out they materialize out of no where and swarm the joint. Hate to kill anything but they mulitpy like rabbits and are in your face when trying to eat lunch. I don't share my gravensteins with anyone or anything! Have a great day people! I think it's going to be a gooder!

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How I spent my day off....

9/23/2013

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Well, slap me on the back. I’m so proud of myself today. I could have sprawled on the sofa, god knows I wanted too, and lazed the day away but I decided to do some things around the house that needed doing so at the end of the day I could feel a sense of accomplishment. Sundays go so quickly and I didn’t want to waste it napping!

I mentioned before I can’t serve two masters so the shop is looking great and my house is in shambles. The laundry, oh the laundry. If only I was rich enough to hire help or throw away dirty clothes and buy new. I had an uncle who did that. He was too lazy to touch water so I don’t think he bathed for twenty years. The billboard says, "the army will make a man of you" but it can destroy you at the same time.   He splashed aftershave on top of aftershave until it created a thin layer of crust and he bought a new set of clothes each month when his pension cheque arrived. He threw his old set in the living room of the house he was staying in, the pile was four feet high! Then he would present himself as a man about town in his new duds, as proud as a peacock. It’s a good thing he was handsome in a debonair, Howard Hughes sort of way, but coincidentally, maybe just as weirdly eccentric. I can’t say he ever smelled badly, just hummed like old aftershave and cigarettes.

He lived in an drafty, old, uninsulated house so we invited him to stay with us during a particularly cold winter. After months of observing his lack of hygiene, I demanded that he bathe and give me his clothes, that practically stood on their own!    The man had passed away now and I'll spare his memory the graphic filth of his attire, but just let me say that I saw things that day that I’d never seen before and hope to never see again.

His laundry took three cycles in the washer to make the clothing wearable and oh the bleach...well there was a lot of it!   I knew he was lying when he told me he bathed the following afternoon because the tub was void of a brown ring when I got home from work. In his condition it would have taken several bath waters to soak off the extra skin of dirt that had accumulated and harden over his body and I knew he wouldn’t have had the wherewithal to clean the tub, never having lifted a finger for domestic chores in his life. I decided not to humiliate him and he smelled fresh enough with his old spice, so I let him think I believed his story. The end of his stay was nearing so I left him with his pride intact. I decided to burn his mattress as I wasn’t going to go there.  I understand the homeless man's excuse of why bathing is no longer a part of a daily routine, but when facilities are available, how they can be dismissed I don’t quite know. How some people live!

Now I might not sound like a domestic goddess myself, but I'm the kind of person you'd want to clean your home. I know how to strip away grime and polish to a sheen that will blind you.  I've more than my share of elbow grease and I'm not afraid to use it! It's just that I don't do it regularly because I'm exhausted by the time I get home from work. If I was a social butterfly, that might keep me in check, but months go by without company crossed my threshold so there isn't any incentive to be on top of things.   These cleaning skills came from my mother either through genetics or learned from watching her work but all I know is I can clean with the best of them, I just choose not to on a daily basis.

I’ve been avoiding the laundry room. Luckily I have enough undies and clothes to go a month or so without having to be a slave in that department.   So today I tackled the piles that were spilling out into the hall. I’ll take my towels to work with me tomorrow as I don’t find the front end loaders really clean them well. The heavy weight, commercial machine at the shop beats them to a white I can’t achieve at home.

Then I tackled the bedroom. Changed from cotton to flannel sheets as the nights are getting cool! The settee was piled high with clothes still clean, just got tried on and cast aside. I’m a dropper, where it lands it stays and the art of bending over to pick it up doesn’t occur to me. I swear I was meant to have servants, someone to pick up after me so I can waddle around in my head and not have to worry about incidental things. The bathroom was in hard shape so I got down and dirty and when I left that room it was sparkling like a new penny.   Don’t think too badly of me, I do clean the toilet on a regular schedule but the shower was looking a little sad.

I've been putting off cleaning the stove flue so I cleaned out the pipes to prepare for the burning season rapidly approaching.  There have been a few nights I toyed with the idea of starting a fire but I’ll hold off as long as possible because once you start it seems to become a regular routine. The chimney sweep guy came last Wednesday so I’m cleared and ready to burn.

Then the real nightmare, the fridge. There were things in there unrecognizable and closer to a science experiment than edibles. All in all it wasn’t as bad as it could have been and only took a few minutes so I was off to clean a few downstairs windows. Living by the sea, the salt air leaves a sticky film on the panes so it’s a constant struggle to keep them clean. I like this job, the reward is instant and the glass sparkles like diamonds. I sure like things to sparkle! I also cleaned the glass on the outdoor carriage lamps. They were filled with spider webs and dead bodies, I think they hang there to catch the bugs attracted by the light. What a mess they make with their poop and webs. Terrible house keepers those spiders, just dropping things and never picking them up!

Then I cleaned off the old chairs from the basement that Sue is going to paint for me after Steve glues them back together. I used steel wool to rub them down and then wiped them with a damp cloth.   The dampness did a number on the seats and they’ve all split into three parts. He’ll have to take them all apart to put them all back together. They are slated for the back room at the shop so customers can hook or sit and look at the binder filled with designs. Each one will be a different colour as that’s what my shop is all about…eclectic colour!

I wanted to do a little painting on the back deck posts but the wind was too strong and most of it would have blown on the deck or me and the pups. Another day!

I’m saving the vacuuming for later in the week. I’m pooped and there’s still a few dishes left and dinner to be made. A nice big salad with my favourite homemade dressing. The best olive oil I can find, red wine vinegar and garlic. Something about those flavours makes me want to eat it every day, all day long....great for keeping the ole blood sugar down.

So that was my day off.    I didn’t even turn on the TV or the radio. I got caught up on some much needed home care, listened to the birds chirping, watched boats sailing by and played in the yard with the pups.   Oh...hubby tells me my blogs might be too long....he said it’s okay to be novel, just don’t write one......

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What a way to start the day!

9/21/2013

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What a fright to wake up and realize the power was off during the night and the alarm is flashing and you have no idea what time it might be. Usually I can come close to guessing by the position of the sun, if it isn't visible to the left side of the window it's prealarm but this morning with all the cloud and dull sky I had no way of knowing if I was early to awaken or already late for work.

After a restless night of tossing until 2:30 I was pretty dopey this morning and once asleep I tend to go for the eight hours so I was more then concerned as my feet hit the floor running to check the only battery operated clock downstairs in the kitchen. Luckily it was 9:30, it could have been worse, but getting out the door prior to 10:30 would be like pulling a rabbit out of my hat. With my breakfast and four pups to feed, the "bathroom elimination routine for all", a shower and one last pee for the pack as I head for the car, being there any time on the left side of 11:00 would be magic.  The universe seems to like me, but not enough to slow things down to accommodate and fix my broken schedule.

The real trick is arriving to work without being disheveled, panicked and hyper to the point of heart racing fear. Being late beyond my control is what it is and I can't do much about it, but I can handle the outcome, something I need to practice to cut down on the stress I feel.   Blame the town and it's faulty power, I'm a victim so don't beat myself up for being late!

Everything comes down to timing, so many minutes to do this and so many to do that. Rushing as if I'm a contestant in the Amazing Race.   So, 10 minutes for the eggs, 5 minutes for the eating, cut up chicken necks for the pups and chaperone their meal, potty break, then a mad dash upstairs for a shower, damn it takes a long time for my hair to dry, iron something suitable and grab stuff for lunch and out the door with less than a foul mood.   So the plan is to do this with a light heart and not to panic. Today is just another day of stumbling blocks, no need to trip and fall, just take it one step at a time, get out the big panties and put em on!   Besides, I won't be late until I get there!

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The apple of my eye is actually an apple!

9/20/2013

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The perfect ripeness!

It's my favourite time of year! Yes, it's cooler for sleeping nights but the main buzz is for the gravenstein apple harvest!   My god, is there any apple more perfect? Shapely and round, tart with crisp, light yellow flesh makes this apple the perfect eating specimen or the filling for a pie?

I've been hooked on these apples since I was a wee lass. Today, I can hardly wait for the coming of fall and then I'm hefting bags of them to my abode to covet and devour them behind closed doors. Due to their very short growing season, I buy bags apon bags for the fridge so I can keep them as long as possible. We don't have a root cellar or that would be stocked as well. If an apple a day keeps the doc away, well, I'll be writing up a credit for a many months to come.

No other apple comes close. The Granny Smith is a sloppy second and if I crave for an apple during the winter I would choose it begrudgingly. Others go wild over the different varieties of apples, the Honey Crisp being the golden child of the last few years, I gave it a shot but it was blah. I like a tart apple with some toe curling zing. The acid burns the back of your throat! Halleluiah! Also my other pet peeve, any apple that tastes remotely like a pear is a thumbs down for me, if I want pears I'll eat them, don't be messing around with the apple genetics to create ones that taste like another fruit, how stupid is that?

When the gravensteins first hit the shelves, you bring them home and let them rest for about a week, a bit less if the temperatures are warm. They are picked way too soon and need time to ripen. As the days go by you will start to smell them and what a sweet perfume it is. They have permeated my house, it smells like an apple bin and the fruit flies agree! Each day my precious apples get closer to being devoured. You can tell by the touch of their skin how ripe they are. The hard smoothness and sheen turns to a rubbery, sticky kind of dull look. Like most apples, I believe they are covered with something to preserve them as long as possible. Years ago the solution came from beetle wax but they probably have a synthetic today. The smell is driving me crazy, it's like catnip to a kitten.

The funny thing is, these objects of my desire don't like me. I have some sort of reaction when I eat them. I get swollen glands and a puffy face. But I'll take it and suffer, you betcha. It's worth the bloated neck and give me more! I look like I have a case of the mumps and if I was single girl I might be concerned but I have my guy and I haven't scared him off yet.

Gravensteins are a memory from my childhood. We had an old, gnarly tree in our back yard that dripped pure gold every September. In the spring the apple blossoms would be heavy laden, filling the air with their essence to signify the coming of a good crop.. I'd watch the little apples appear and grow on the branch, counting them by the hundreds and rubbing my hands together in anticipation. I start eating them so early they threatened to break my teeth so I devised a method to speed up their aging. It was an accidental discover. I'd use a long stick to beat them down off the tree and realized the bruised areas were juicy and sweet, so that taught me to pound them with the back of a large metal spoon until they softened into into sweet pulp. Almost like apple sauce without all the sugar. I'd eat dozens until my stomach was so full it leveled out in my esophagus. Never got the crappers either. My mom used to holler from the back door for me to stop eating the green apples, warning I'd get the poops but it never happened. I would eat them on the sly and throw the cores into the neighbour's yard.

I was obsessed with the taste, would have chosen it over candy and I panicked because as the apples ripened on the tree the worms moved in and I lost most of the crop. The tree was an accident that grew in the backyard, probably planted by a bird dropping seed. It was never sprayed and used as a fruit source so the worms could attack with abandon and rival my attempts to claim them all!   As the top apples that I couldn't reach, ripened and fell from the tree, I'd have to cut around the brown holes to get my fix. No worm was going to cheat me of my apples! I don't know why I was so connected with this particular fruit, but as far back as I can remember, I've been gravenstein crazy and unless nature decides to retire that species, I'll be front and center hauling the bags home and making a pig of myself. All other fruits pale next to this apple and I'm not the only one that loves them. I see they have festivals in various areas to honour this apple and I'll bet the gravenstein was the tree in the Garden of Eden...sort of explains the temptation. thing, although I don't know why they were given to Adam, if I was Eve I would have eaten them all myself.

So every year I suffer a bit with what I call an allergy and luckily as I grow older it does seem to lesson on the severity of the symptoms. I try to eat just one a day and then drink lots of water to flush out my system but it still gets me. It's already started and I'm only a half dozen in. Of course with my blood sugars problems I can't eat them like I used too and they need to be accompanied with protein. I love to fry up a pork chop and slice the gravenstein and saute them in the pan with the meat for a transference of flavour. Apples and pork are a marriage made in heaven!

The Gravenstein apple has a tart flavor. It is picked in July and August and is heavily used as a cooking apple, especially for apple sauce and apple cider.   It doesn't keep well, so it's available only in season. The skin is a delicately waxy yellow-green with crimson spots and reddish lines, but the apple may also occur in a classically red variation.

The red apples, commonly known as Red Gravensteins, are considered a sport rather than a true variety. The flesh is juicy, finely grained, and light yellow. Trees are among the largest of standard root varieties, with a strong branching structure; the wood is brownish-red and the leaves are large, shiny, and dark green. It grows best in moderate, damp, loamy soil with minimal soil drying during the summer months. Locations close to watercourses and edges of ponds are preferred. Gravensteins will not thrive in areas of high groundwater and require moderate protection against wind. The plant is a triploid variety. It requires pollination from another variety, but will not itself return the favour.

"It has often been said that if the Gravenstein could be had throughout the year, no other apple need be grown." In Canada it is widely grown on both coasts, although more in old farmstead orchards and backyards than in commercial orchards.

You haven't tasted apple pie until you've had a gravenstein one. Cinnamon instead of nutmeg for me and a scoop of the best vanilla bean ice cream will send me into a tailspin. If I close my eyes I can smell it, coming out of the oven and filling the room with its tantalizing aroma. No matter how careful I am with my diabetes, I would not be able to resist a slice of pie with this magnificent apple, I'd crawl naked over glass for a sliver. Wouldn't you?

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Hump day hook-in!

9/19/2013

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Armenia's Daisy pillows.

What a great hook-in this evening! Full of laughs and show and tell. We had two new comers to the group, Barbara and Donna that fit in a like old friends. Our group keeps expanding so I am planning a few changes to accommodate the numbers. I’ll be taking out all the furniture and having tables built along the wall and cutting stations for those who wish to bring their clamp on machines. There’s enough room for 20 or more with a bit of clever designing and installing piano hinged tables in various areas. Up when you need them and down when you don't. Charlene’s husband is my go to guy so everything will look top notch.

The Keurigg got a good workout this evening. Armenia loves her Hazelnut Vanilla that I stock just for my little sweetie pie. The aroma is divine and I always make sure I have a coffee directly following hers so I get a hint of the flavour in my dark roast. I can’t drink the anything but regular coffee because of the sugar content but a trace doesn’t hurt. The weather is nippy in the evenings and a hot cup of java hits the spot! I was drinking decafe for a bit because of my heart skipping beats, but the taste was a step above bath water so if I have a coffee, I’m going for the real thing and I’ll just limit the intake to keep the ticker happy. I'll tell you one thing; the memory of a real coffee is better than drinking decaffeinated swill.

Pam with her completed Foster piece.

Sue on the last stretch of her Lunenburg Compass rug.

Armenia's current project, gorgeous garden lilies.

Pam's Cone Santa ready for cutting out and sewing into a cone.

Everyone was in fine form this evening. I can’t go into details because like Vegas, what happens at the hook-in stays at the hook-in but I can say we know how to have a few laughs!

Armenia showed off her pillows. She hooked the fronts and Sue sewed the backs. We all do nice things for Armenia because she's sweeter than sugar. Pam had a finished fishing scene and pulled her last loops on the Cone Santa this evening, getting a head start for the holidays. Sue is coming around the last lap on her Susan Leslie design called Lunenburg Compass. We all agree the colours are stellar and they might breathe some new life into the pattern that never really got a lot of attention. I think the design has a lot of appeal, with the compass in the center and the buildings around the perimeter. The shape of the outer border with the diagonal corners is quite unique which lends perfectly to the design elements. Of all of Susan’s designs this one seemed to pale against the more recognizable Lunenburg harbour fronts.

Deanna left, Donna, Heather and then Pam.

Glenna was working on her “Hot Water, Fresh Towels”, Donna is making great strides on Bluenose sails of her Lunenburg Schooner design, another one of Susan Leslie’s patterns.  Armenia was working on a bit of background for her lily piece, Ginny was doing the herringbone whipped edge on Alice, a stunning piece that deserves its very own blog as soon as it’s bound.   Anne is working on a new geometric design and Deanna is completing another shell.  Barbara a relatively new hooker, is getting to the end of her boat, one of Sue’s patterns called High Tide. Heather, fresh from Newfoundland rug school is doing a fun house piece with wool I drooled over. Sue told me where to locate it so I’m contacting the source to score some, like an addict going after a fix I just have to have it!

Geez, did I miss anyone? Oh yes, Linda Ruth isn’t in a picture but she hooked a few squares on hubby’s bedside inch rug and then I took over when she left early.   She just dropped in to sit and socialize, too tired to haul her own project over. She had a busy summer at her antique store “Come By Chance Antiques”.   The center squares are now completed so the plain section should go a lot faster. I’ll pick away at it over time, it might get done before Christmas, cross my fingers!

I looked over the crowd and smiled.  I often wonder what our male tenant thinks hearing all the screams of laugher through the walls. You can never be totally sound proofed so the noise must permeate the division between the units. He probably thinks, there go those hooker’s again......they must be up to something with all the commotion and he would be right!

Anne at the end of the table, to her right Ginny busy whipping Alice, Barbara in the pink, then Glenna, Armenia and Sue.

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A bus load of hookers.....

9/18/2013

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Had to wait until the crowd thinned to take this picture!

It's not every day a bus load of hookers roll up to your door, but it sure would be nice if it did! There was something wonderful about looking out over the shop and seeing all those lovely ladies smiling and having a good time.  It was a sight for sore eyes and I got all misty a couple of times.

I didn't get to chat with everyone as the phone kept ringing and non bus customers were in the shop as well. It was a good chaos for sure. That kind of stress I can handle! Charlene and Sue came by to lend a hand which was a great help and Shane and Glenna took care of the sales and coffee. I bought a couple of large boxes of Timbits although I had hoped to make homemade doughnuts but I was too dang tired as I fell into bed the night before. Maybe next time!

It seems the star of the day was Sue with her Women of Abundance designs. A couple had been preordered to be picked up that day; more of them flew off the racks and the ones not available were ordered to be shipped.   Sue says she has more big boned women designs ready to go, just needs to get them to me so look forward to additions to her humorous line of ladies with extra padding. They do bring a smile!

I packed a burlap bag full of goodies as a door prize and tickets were handed out as the women entered the shop.   Sylvia, the woman who won the draw was so sweet and told me she'd never won anything in her life, so it was perfect.  I hope they all enjoyed visiting Mahone Bay and will take fond memories and stories back to Ontario.

What a great a way to enjoy the company of women, share a passion and see the country while not being burdened with driving or worrying about where to spend the night.  The predetermined itinerary unrolled ahead of them like a red carpet with nothing to think about other than meals, fun and shopping.   Sounds like a plan and so totally civilized!

They all attended a hook-in at the museum on Saturday and got the guided tour of the facility. Unfortunately the last leg of their trip was clouded with the sad news that Hugh Conrod passed away over the weekend. He was the co-founder of the North American Rug Hooking Museum. Our condolences go out to Suzanne, his wife, loosing not only a friend and husband,  but her partner in this great venture they've brought to fruition.

After the bus gang left, I started to yawn.  I didn't know what to do with myself. After working at full throttle for weeks all of a sudden a calm swept over me and I didn't know how to handle it.  Shane suggested we close and go home but that wasn't an option. You never know who might be on they way to the shop from the valley or Halifax and how disappointing that would be. Luckily we stayed as it was busy all day long with many visitors from the US and across Canada. I just took it easy for a change and worked at a leisurely pace., although it felt as if I was in some else's shoes. I even walked up and down the stairs like a normal person instead of striding two or three steps in a rush to get things done.   The panic was over, we were in the new room and had it arranged so that it didn't look too unput together. We still have big plans but that will come with time.

I made it to 5:00 without fading but the need to sleep was creeping up on me.   Shane said go home and relax, put up my feet, I'd worked hard and deserved it, but I have to say it was done with guilt. After working pretty much every night, sitting and watching TV with the useless crap they offered as entertainment made me sort of angry. It felt like a big waste of time, time that I would never get back. I kept thinking I should just go to work and do something productive and the internal argument raged on until I fell asleep somewhere around 10:00. I awoke early morning on the sofa, with my shoes and glasses on, fully dressed with every light burning in the down stairs, the TV was blaring and the back door was unlocked. It was as if I was anesthetized for surgery, nothing but blackness; no dreams, no momentary consciousness. I was cold without covers, had four dogs snuggled against me and a dry mouth from snoring......but I felt refreshed!

Bet they're talking about wool?

Checking out the Sari Silk

Happiness is an armful of wool!

So much to see, so little time!

Sylvia Schenk, winner of the door prize of a burlap bag of goodies. Christmas in September!

Coffee, tea and Timbits were available for snacking. Take note of that gorgeous hooked purse on Sylvia's shoulder....I have to make one of those!

Sue chatting with Mary Janet Mustard.

Shane and Glenna behind the cashier counter.

Mary Janet and yours truly. Why do I always look pregnant in photos?

Late comers after the crowd had disbursed so it was quiet enough to chat.

Sue Cunningham and Charlene Scott, my little helpers! Thanks guys! Sue is just fooling around...they're just friends!

4 Comments

Another exceptional beginner class...

9/17/2013

3 Comments

“Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise.” - Horace

Another small beginning class with big heart! The Sunday before last, five women started on a new adventure and joined the rug hooking fold. One student, Liz, came all the way from Thunder Bay, rented a cottage in Mahone Bay and explored the area while working on her new design I created specifically to coordinate with a placemat she made. One of the highlights of her trip was a jaunt to Frenchy's. I looked up the address and she programmed the GPS for later in the week.   We had such fun chatting after the class the hours melted away and I missed the grocery store so we went out for dinner at Mateus Bistro for a fabulous meal.  More conversation and the evening disappeared and we were the last diners to leave the restaurant. Liz was here without a frame so I loaned her my personal one so she was able to continue with her hooking. One afternoon she dropped by the shop to take advantage of our great lighting as it was a bit dull at the cottage for hooking.

One of the newbies is Donna McKinnon, someone from my past days at Reinforced Plastics where I worked for 12 years in the accounting office. Don't know what my title was, back then it wasn't so important to have a label, but basically I helped get the financials out each month, helped train the other departments with the new computer modules, did the costing for the orders and was responsible for over seeing the payroll. I put in a lot of late nights and weekends as the hours in the day didn't match the many jobs that needed to be done, sort of like now and I still don't get paid over time!

The plant made reinforced plastic piping and the toxins from the materials made me quite ill and I eventually got environmental sickness and had to leave. Although my boss was gruff I enjoyed working for him, at least most of the time. There were moments that would make good stories. Overall it gave me the tools to be able to do the financial side of my business. The experts say that being a creative, right brained person, I'm not supposed to be good with numbers but I am, and I do my own bookwork to prepare for year end.  I won't say I do it on time, my procrastination skills outweigh my bookkeeping prowess so it's piled in a box until April and then I scramble to do all the entries and loose my mind. They'll be sweating, crying and cussing again because I let it get behind this year but I swear 2014 will be different.  Shane enters all the sales side of things and starting the new year I plan to train him on the expenses side so they are entered monthly and no more loosing my patience and sanity tax time.   At this stage in my life it should be all about making life easier and having less aggro, freeing up time to do the jobs that bring pleasure like designing or hooking.

Donna on the right....a work mate from way back, retired now and hooking a rug for her daughter.

A sweet design I whipped up for Liz to compliment the placemat she made. Can't wait to see the finished picture. She has a good eye for colour and details so I know it will look great.

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Another happy customer.....but who is she?

9/16/2013

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This is Polly Bowie! I found the slips of paper!

Another happy customer..... but who is she? If only I could remember her name or locate the piece of paper I wrote her information on! I don't want her to think she didn't matter so it bothers me I can't pull her name out of the thick soup in my head. All I can remember is that she was absolutely lovely and so enthusiastic about rug hooking.  She had never hooked before, came in for a demo, practiced a bit and ordered two kits, both Sue Cunningham's women of abundance patterns complete with wool. We colour planned them together and I said I would have them all cut and ready to go in a couple of days. She was delighted with the colours and excited to get started.   I can't promise remembering names after time has lapsed but gee, only a few days? I don't know if it's my age, lack of sleep, too much work or a combo plate!

I've had a few senior moments lately that I've found frustrating and embarrassing.  I forgot to make a kit for a beginner who took my course last week and let me tell you, they need to come up with a name for the new shade of red that burned my cheeks. I sorta, kinda recall the conversation and it's obvious, before I could record it in the book I got distracted so it vanished into the black hole of my brain.   She was absolutely lovely about it but I kicked mental butt for the rest of the day. I drew out a cute little design and gave her some wool to practice the straight lines, wavy lines and circles and promised to make up the kit as soon as possible. I don't do things like that, not often anyhow. Is this old age? It's no secret I've been under a bit of stress lately with expanding the shop but that is over now so the brain can get back to normal or whatever it was before the move. Between the insomnia and working late nights have I become ditsy?  Grey cell loss is permanent.....yikes!

Then I forgot to send out a pattern I promised would arrive in time for a workshop. The customer was really nice about it but I guess I'd have felt more comfortable if she hollered at me...shame on me. I felt so badly about the whole mess and there she was on the phone trying to make me feel better. It was too late to make the class even by courier so I sent it out and plan to reimburse her and hope she hasn't lost faith in me! She said she would find something else to take to class. When you're being hard on yourself it's difficult to have people being nice. I'm more comfortable feeling guilty and roughing myself up a bit, being the bad little shop keeper that I am.

Interruptions while working are commonplace but when this ole brain is taxed and tired, things go downhill faster than Jack and Jill.   And sure you can make notes, but then have to remember where you put it. Interruptions seem to happen every five minutes but that's probably an exaggeration so lets be fair and say every ten minutes.  Shane gives me a hard time because I don't put things away but I never get to finish a project in one sitting because I'm torn in so many directions. It's the curse of being the boss. Like today (Sunday), I sent him out to buy another paper cutter and I'm in the middle of something that needs deep thought when he phones me from Staples to give the details of all the models available and all I want him to do is make a decision and buy one. He tells me about the first one so I say "buy it", but then proceeds to tell me about the second one so I say "buy it", then goes back to the first one and I say "buy it" again, while trying to remain friendly and not scream "BUY ONE!"   I don't want to be part of this conversation, it's wasting my time and I want him to decide...it's only a paper cutter, not research to find the best brain surgeon.   I know he respects my opinion and he wants to please me, but I'm more than happy for him to handle the incidental stuff. He's smart...read and come to a decision, if it works well, great, if not it's an experience to learn from.

I also have to stop running. I'm asked a question and my reaction is to leave whatever I'm doing to check it out and quite frankly, I'm run ragged.  Asking a question out of the blue without full context also leaves me confused and most of the time I don't even hear the first few words because I'm so absorbed in what I'm doing. This has to stop as it happens upwards of twenty times a day and I need to hang on to my sanity. I can't focus!    Men don't look either. You send them for something and they can't find it so they holler immediately before giving it a serious go and of course I run and find it. Hubby's like that too so I have two men I'm running after. I supposed I've trained them well, or maybe they've trained me, but I really have to back off on the running and rescuing.

I'm usually quiet when I work. I keep my head down and focus on the chore. I don't like to talk much as it distracts me. Pleasantries and what I did over the weekend are the furthest things from my mind so after the initial "hi" or "good morning" I'm perfectly happy not to speak.  I just want to be in my head, it's cosy in there with all kinds of exciting things floating around. I get in a zone and work flows. That's why I like working nights, no one to distract me so the tasks go smoothly and quickly and I can actually finish what I started.

Of course, customer distractions are welcome, none of what I'm complaining about has anything to do with the people who come into the shop. It's all internal stuff, being the boss kind of thing, so don't think I am complaining about you, the customer! I heard on CBC radio that every time you are interrupted in the middle of a task it can take up to 2o minutes to get back into the job.  No wonder I struggle. Funny thing though, when mom asks for help I hear, "I'm busy right now", maybe that's a line I should adopt......did I say I love my son?

I found the missing piece of paper! Her name is Polly Bowie from Vancouver!!

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Who needs rest...plenty of time for that after I'm gone!

9/15/2013

6 Comments

As you’ve probably noticed I’ve been a bit preoccupied this past week. Missing two blog days and a ton of sleep, I don’t know what bothered me more. I love writing about my days, don’t know why I never entertained keeping a journal or a diary.

I’m pretty tired and my brain has been misfiring like crazy, forgetting simple things. Even when I went to bed at a decent hour sleep eluded me so I stayed up late to get things done, more productive than tossing and turning and being angry and frustrated with myself. A bus load of hookers rolling up to your door is a novel opportunity that doesn’t happen often so I wanted the shop in tip top shape.

Moving into the back room took a bit of time to arrange and set up. Then we had to fill the space left vacant from the pattern shift so there was lots of work to do. My aunt came in and commented that I was working too much and the place looked good enough with all the furniture we filled the space with so it wouldn’t look bare in the interim. She suggested I should take a breather and my comment was, “I’m in the business to sell product, not antiques, so yes, we have
to work late hours, I can’t just twitch my nose and make things happen, we have to work to stock the shop with product, it doesn’t arrive on a truck all finished and ready to hang.

I get a bit frustrated at times. The shop is viewed in two different ways. One, it’s a craft business, a little mom and pop shop that isn’t a real business because there is no university degree needed to operate it. I could site unlimited stories of things said and done to prove I’m not looked at as a serious business. And then on the flip side, there are those who treat us too seriously, like a Walmart, where they expect everything to be available at all times as if we just bend over and product hits the shelves or comes from China. Pretty much everything in our shop is hand made and that takes time and there are only two of us so I'm impressed we do as well as we do.

Sometimes people frown when they want a pattern that isn’t available but considering it takes five minutes to sell a pattern and anywhere from one half hour to a couple of days to reproduce and replace, that doesn’t balance any way you stretch it. We will always be behind in pattern production; it’s never going to change, we don't have the area to stock several of each design so once the one is sold, it takes time to hang another. Besides, as far as I am concerned, the shop will never have every pattern in stock at any given time.....we'd have to be robots on a production line to keep up.   So I recommend, if you are coming this way, and have your heart set on a certain design, email or call ahead so we can make sure it's available or you'll have to take your chances.

So once I finally fell asleep last night, I shamelessly slept in until 10:30 this morning and now I’m doing a fry up…bacon slow cooked to crispy perfection with my eggs. This past week it was grab something and go, but today I’m going to sit and savour breakfast on the back deck and take time to smell the flowers…well not many of those left but the grapevines are dripping with blue and will be ready for jelly production soon. Nature is always showcasing some miracle or another, what a fine job she’s doing! The sail boats are out taking advantage of the last leg of summer; there won’t be many of these brilliant days left with fall and it’s unpredictable weather coming. Our front yard is like natures television, there’s always something flying, swimming or tacking by. What a fantastic day to be on this beautiful planet!

So today is all about last minute stuff. I won't get everything done on the list for tomorrow but no one will know except me. I'm making sure things are all priced and labeled.   I heard a customer comment under her breath "I guess everything in here is free because it isn’t priced". It wasn't the words, it was the way it was said, like the store was flawed and not worth shopping in, as if a few unpriced items could make us substandard! Guess I'm a little touchy about my shop, it's like my kid. But I used it as constructive criticism and made sure those few items that weren't priced now are.

Then I have a few patterns to whip up and do a thorough clean and try to relax a bit this evening, hopefully with some snoring at the end of it.   But, chances are, I'll probably be too excited to sleep, like a kid waiting for Santa with visions of rug hookers dancing in my head. I wanted this chance to shine, show off our products and beautiful store. I don’t even think about sales, just showing off the shop, like introducing a beautiful child to the world.

Funny...I look around my shop and smile with chest expanding pride, and then look around my house and frown. What a friggin mess I live in. I can’t serve two masters concurrently so I’ve done nothing at home for over a month and it shows. The spider webs are taking over the ceiling beams again, the dust bunnies have produced like rabbits, dishes cover the counters instead of stocking the cupboards and there’s no clean flatware to speak off so I’ll be eating with my fingers tonight if I don’t buy plastic.  With my busy life, maybe paper plates are the way to go. Chinet has a blue flower pattern, a temporary substitute for Blue Willow. I could eat and then dump the garbage to keep the kitchen tidy enough to see the blue counter tiles that are now completed covered.

I won’t go into the laundry predicament. Hidden behind the closed door it’s easy to forget, but I’m finding it increasingly difficult to score something clean to wear to work. Today I won’t have to worry as the shop won’t be open while I’m there so the best dirty shirt will do.... I feel like I'm in a Kris Kristofferson song. I’ll pop a few loads in this evening…if only I’d been born rich, I'd hire someone to help around here and take care of me in the style I was obviously born to explore. I've said it before, somehow the stork dropped me in the wrong spot. I’m sure Buckingham palace was the destination point, obviously something went terribly wrong with the bird’s internal GSP or it was tipping the winged elbow.

If I ever win the lottery there will be hot, gourmet meals on the table, freshly ironed clothes waiting for the taking, bathrooms that smell like lavender and bouquets of fresh flowers in every room of the house. This princess would swoon in after a long day at work and put my feet up and feel no shame being waited on. But...I would draw the line on squeezing my own toothpaste, shame on you Charles!

But you can’t win lotteries if you don’t play so it’s never going to be a reality. Besides, I’m lucky, but not million dollar lucky. The universe takes care of me nicely but not to extremes and that's okay.....I really do have a great life, I just need a little help sometimes........

Well, I must get the show on the road. Shane just called to find out when I was going to work so he’ll join me and do a bit more dyeing. He’s done so many beautiful bundles it’s a colour feast for the eye. There’s some pretty scrumptious pumpkin colours just in time for fall. He likes the shelves stocked as much as me, a nut that didn’t fall far from the tree…

Dear 3 A.M., We have to stop meeting this way, I'd much rather sleep with you.....

6 Comments

Raving about roving again!

9/13/2013

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Look at those eyelashes!

I’m not up on breeds of sheep. I know their colours, white, black and fifty shades of grey; dirt from rolling in the mud and fields. Sheep fill children's books with whimsey and talk in a simple language of "Baa", but more importantly give us wool for all manner of crafts and clothing. What's not to love? I'm from the generation of Shari Lewis and Lamb Chop and I loved sheep as far back as I can remember; is it a coincidence that I grew up and became a rug hooker? I think not!

I've always loved curly hair. If ever envy creeps into my bones, it's because I'm lusting over locks of wild hair. Mine is straight as a line and even less interesting. Who wants hair that goes from point A to point B without any detours?

I'm told I have a lot of hair, it's just fine, so my ponytail is no bigger than the circumference of a flea's waist. It lays limp on my head like a wet towel and when it's humid or raining it sticks to me like duct tape. So to hear the curly haired folk complain that the rain makes their hair go even curlier I spit in your general direction. Get some real problems to crow about. Geez! You hit the lottery with the hair gene and don't appreciate it. If only we could do an injection, share a needle back and forth so we both get what we want. I hear it often, no one likes their own hair, straight likes curly and curly likes straight. Well, all I can say is if I can't come back with a head full of curls, I'd be happy just being a curly critter!

When my friend Susan had cancer the chemo made her hair fall out and then it grew back curly. She explained this can happen and we joked about it being worth it cause she liked the curls as well. Desiring curly hair my whole life, I shamefully admit it flashed through my head that it would be advantageous to get cancer.....sigh, damn random thoughts, you can't help what pops into your head and I squashed it like a bug on the wall but it's a testimony on how badly I've wanted curls, but believe me, I'm not willing to get sick or die for them.

So you might ask, why don't I just get a perm? I used to before I had environmental sickness.   I was curly for decades, every six months I was permed and curled to perfection. My hairdresser would use the big rollers so the curls were loose and natural looking. I never felt more pretty when my hair had some substance; somehow I felt special with the wavy locks.   But then my immune system crashed and I could no longer condone the excessive and unnecessary chemicals that were absorbing into and taxing my body. Nail polish was another luxury I had to give up. Man made products made me sick, and now that I'm better I can't justify or risk putting myself in harms way again. So I'm a plain Jane now and I'll take that look to my grave.

The sheep on Brier Island have exactly what I like…an abundance of curls and a silky sheen that glimmers like satin.   I've been dyeing up a storm for the last few days. The shop has been rather busy all summer so the bag of uncarded fleece was crying out to me and with a bus load of hookers arriving on Monday what better time to get it done and displayed to add to the colour explosion that will greet the gals as they come through the door.

What divine colours have come out of my pans. Wowsa! I tried various shades of the main colour and added a bit of this and that for contrast and depth. I love the multi-coloured ones too. We have a new abrash formula called Paradise and it’s so delicious customers were buying half yard pieces off the drying rack and taking it home wet, so I cooked up Paradise roving bundles to coordinate with the fabric for those whimsical bits in sky or water.

So I’m in love with roving, want to play with it some more and dye up other colours. I mixed a dark auburn/burgundy formula that’s perfect for a sassy mermaid. It’s so richly saturated with colour I predict it will sell immediately and I’ve been considering hoarding a bit for a project I’ve been dreaming about.

So I designed a label and spent the day making the bundles and tying them up. Lots of work but it was like playing in a toy factory, work is never a chore when you’re inspired by it. An added perk is soft hands, from the traces of lanolin in the wool.

The roving gets the seal of approval of Fiz, my red toy poodle. It must smell interesting.  I kept the dried pieces in a box and twice I caught her sneaking out a large section to take to the other room to lie on. Of course I didn’t allow that and got her a towel but I don't think she thought much of the substitution.   Little princess! I wonder if she'd feel a pea under her mattress? It was a rather intelligent thing to do and I wondered why she settled on the colour she choose. Poodles are smart, but to make a bed and then lie in it?  My dogs are obviously genius! Henri, my cream boy miniature, does the same when I’m at the computer working. He’ll drag his dog bed over so he can lie close to me.

So the shop is coming together. I’ll take pictures in a day or so as the rugs need to be hung and a bit of fussing over this and that but on the whole it’s looking fab and these late nights are paying off in spades. Shane worked with me this evening dyeing up bundles to stack on the shelves. I think he did about 20 yards worth. Some lovely pumpkin colours for the upcoming season.

Well it’s time for bed. I’m so excited I wish it was already tomorrow so I can go in and play around in my store....except for the absence of curly hair, I have a charmed life!

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Story Rugs for a new book!

9/12/2013

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I am posting this for Paulette Hackman, if interested contact her at the email address below:

Have You Hooked A Story Rug?
Do You Know Someone who Has?

For a book I'm writing for Rug Hooking Magazine's "Book Club Series", I'm Looking for rug hookers who have created Story Rugs.

For my purposes, a Story Rug:

* Has action in it that shows the story;
* Can show its story as a series of images hooked on one rug or a series of hooked rugs organized around one story theme;
* Can be a personal story, a historical story and/or even an imaginary story.

If Story Rugs are your thing - or if you've just discovered them recently - perhaps your creation will find a place in this book.

Paulette Hackman at [email protected]
or reach me by phone at 902-640-2609 (through Sept.)
or 607-729-2198 (Oct-June)

If possible please send a photo or photos with Title, Dimensions, Cut (s), Fiber Content, Foundation, Year, Personal Comments

4 Comments

Got nothin!

9/12/2013

1 Comment

Got nothin isn't exactly true, I have stuff but it's achy feet and tired bones and I wanted to spare you the gory details cause I could go on............ I'm working late nights getting my shop in order. Since the move into the pattern room I'm left with a lot of bare spots that need cluttering up with stuff! I'm fussy about my studio and bare spots are embarrassing so therefore I'm working my anal butt off to make it pretty but I've not been this weary for a long time. Right now if brains were dynamite I couldn't blow my nose. I usually write the blog at night but it's too late and I need a good nights sleep so I'm ready for action tomorrow. I'm leaving you with a little chuckle.

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Unfinished business.....

9/11/2013

4 Comments

With all the moving and rearranging going on around here it's like an archeology dig. Things are being unearthed and not all good. I'm finding stuff I'd rather not remember like this inch mat I began when I first started rug hooking.

Monotony is not for me. If you look up monotony in the dictionary I would be listed as the antonym. I like zip and zing, none of this repetitive, boring, dull stuff that makes you want to take a long walk off a short peer. But you do things for the people you love, or at least go into it for the right reason.  Hubby needed a rug for his side of the bed to keep his tootsy's warm and I wanted to do something nice for the guy I love, and coincidentally, there was an Inch Mat class going on at the Whitman Inn so Mary Doig, Susan Leslie and I signed up.

There's nothing linear about me and I should have known it would be a bit of a drag doing all those straight lines and squares, but I was new at this and didn't know what I was in for. We all designed our own pieces, Susan did a variation of an antique rug and Mary took on the Boston Sidewalk, both of which were finished in a timely fashion and fabulous to view. I had a suspicion I might not enjoy the process so I opted to cut out a few dozen of the nightmarish squares by putting a big ole monogram in the center.  I should have gone for a chair pad, something I could have finished during the weekend, but no, I had to be overly optimistic and go big.  L for Little, it would have been a sweet gesture if the motives were pure but I really only wanted to cut down on the amount of squares I'd have to hook.  I also put a gap between the center diamond and the corner triangles, once again reducing the amount of squares. Oh, and I should say counting all those holes to draw straight lines was a chore as well!

And because it was a pin in the eye experience, the rug ended rolled up and stashed away, out of sight, out of mind with little intention to finish. What is hooked was done at the weekend class, not a loop was pulled once I returned home. It's been buried all this time and forgotten. But...now that it's back in my thoughts, here's guilt nesting next to it. Thirteen years later and winter is once again around the corner so hubby's feet will be cold as they hit the floor.   I'm thinking it might be advantageous to put the rug in the shop, set it up on a frame so when friends drop in to say hi they could pick away at a square or two until it's on the last leg and more agreeable to finish. Sort of sleazy I know, or maybe it's genius? A lot of my friends think my guy is pretty swell so maybe it wouldn't be so painful to help the poor boy out. I still have all the wool, maybe I'll dig it out and have it conveniently cut and ready to go. Anyone wishing to save my hubby's feet from another year of frigid floors, and me from whining about all those squares, come on in and hook a few!   I should just bite the bullet, finish it and wrap it up for under the Christmas Tree.....that would be a real surprise! Gee I wonder if he reads my blogs?

Mary's Boston Sidewalk

Susan Variation of an antique pattern.

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Dip Dyed Yarn, a new twist.....

9/10/2013

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Inspired by a picture on the internet I hauled out the dye pots last night. I don't knit or hook with yarn but I love to play around with it, and we usually have baskets of hand dyed skeins in the shop for those that do. The dip dyed, graduated method appealed to the colourist in me and I had to play around to see what I could encourage out of the pot. Colour attracts me like a moth to a flame. It awakens my creativity center and all kinds of thought balloons start bursting and ideas spill out so thick you can cut them like wool.

So I used washed white Brigg's & Little and of course, Majic Carpet Dyes. I placed an order for 100 skeins last week to dye and stock up the shop with all my new shelves and spacing. I want to be wrapped in colour as if the shop is a wool shawl. I'm going to stand in the center and twirl around and I want colour to kaleidoscope around me, only then will I be happy! Some gals want diamonds, I just want wool in every nook and cranny, spilling out of baskets on the floor and racks on the wall.    I sometimes wonder if I'm cheating myself...maybe I need to get some loftier goals, maybe a hike up Everest or something. A bunch of dyed wool, no matter how smart, really isn't bucket list material...pardon the pun, but it seems to be all I want to do, at least for the moment!  Maybe I'm afflicted with some sort of addiction but at least I'll never become one of those hoarders you see on TV cause people keep coming in and taking the wool away!!!

So I heated the pots and started with gold, a mixture of yellow and chocolate brown. Dipped it until the colour absorbed and then added straight Red Violet. Dip, dip, dip and then added straight concentrated Blue Violet.    I played with floral colours, recycling the end of one dye bath to start the base for the next and then built on that. These will be one offs with no name or formula recorded. I'm dyeing two skeins at a time, looped over a big stir stick to keep them from matting up. A string would work as well but all I had was yarn and I worried it would snap in mid dipping and I'd loose the skeins in the pot and ruin the effect.

It got late and I started getting stupid so had to put the pots away for the night but I plan to do more today, greens of course for leaves and more floral colours and of course the yellow, orange and red combo that's perfect for sunsets and campfires and the most delicious garden flowers you can imagine.    I see garden scenes when I look at the results because I'm flower crazy but I'll bet a few people out there could come up with unique uses for these wools?  I wonder how it would knit up?  Would it make an interesting pattern or look like a dog's breakfast? It would make a pretty scarf, one of those things I see everywhere, a knitted neck roll/scarf that you pull over your head? Canada's version of the Hawaiian lei.

I'm always careful when people come into the shop and speak of wool because I immediately assumed fabric, but as the conversation evolves I sometimes discover they mean yarn. Now it's all wool no matter how you look at it, but for me I need labels to keep things straight so I refer to the continuous spun wool as yarn and the woven, fabric as wool. It's splitting hairs but when you're in the business of selling wool, clarity is a must. So far there haven't been any mess ups in the order department, but that day will come and then I'll have a yarn to tell....

2 Comments

Mergoldendoodle with Mercats...hilarious!

9/7/2013

1 Comment

A guest show and tell by Sandra Gardiner (Nickname Joe)

Sea Sirens hooked by Joe Michaels

As agreed, here is a picture of the altered Sea Sirens. The Mergoldendoodle with Mercats. Thanks so much for allowing me to make changes to your pattern. I'm sure my daughter-in-law will love it ... it is a gift for her as requested by my son. Just the binding remains! Sandra (Joe)

I had a great chuckle when I opened Sandra's email. The pup has a mug full of personality and seems unaware there are cats sneaking by under the radar. Turn around big guy and start the chase! Truly this rug is a gift from the heart and hand. Great job...it's a ruff life you lead! I love the vibrancy of the colours that tonally balance the rug and the way the blues cast an oceany glow. The clever swirls give the water a little extra zing and imply moment. I adore everything about this rug; the fun, the colours, the hooking and the sentiment behind it! Thanks for sharing!

Sea Sirens 35" x 25" Hooked by Susan Leslie

Here is the original design that was modified, called Sea Sirens. Full of whimsy, this design features a Mercat with Mermice. Joe substituted the cat for a dog and the mice for cats in his rendition.

This piece was originally hooked by my friend Susan Leslie. She used yarn for the mouse whiskers and plaids for the rocks. The tail is a mixture of solids and plaids from her extensive wool stash. The cat, a real poser, seems more interested in reclining in Garfield fashion rather than chasing down dinner. Who needs to go looking for food when you're a ham!

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Old shop, new look...

9/6/2013

5 Comments

Coloured burlap, great for not hooking background!

Well, we did the move and put the patterns in the back room. A lot of work and dust bunnies but I’m so pleased I can’t express it enough. It’s been a long time coming, but all things take time. When they were handing out patience I must have been distracted or didn’t get the memo...probably off dilly dallying somewhere. Impatience is a princess complex, it’s terminal with no known cure.

We've been busy and putting off the transition, but I bit the bullet, said "let's do it" and so we did. For some reason the shop door stopped opening and allowed us to make the move smoothly. After days of being too busy to think, there came a lull just as it as needed. It’s like an action packed movie, do you notice how all danger ceases momentarily to show a tender moment, the dinosaur stops charging although it was right on their tails, the explosion pauses even through the pin is out of the grenade. That sort of thing annoys me, make it seem real or don't do it!

I’m teaching this Sunday so it will be nice to have the back room ready as the upstairs is in total chaos. I’m starting to think I'm a shape shifter, shifting shapes of furniture and cabinets upstairs to the garage and then back while I make the decisions of where everything needs to go. Stuff is piled everywhere and there's a days work upstairs to get it all under control.    I'm stripping the upstairs for workshops and hook-ins only. There will be tables and cutting stations so I can make as much seating space as possible. All else is out of here.

I’m not totally done arranging the displays and won't be for a bit; it's a work in progress. There's a wing back chair that needs covering and cabinets that need to be placed and filled with wool. This coming week every evening is going to be a dyeing extravaganza. I’ve got a lot on the plate, especially when I have a beginning class on Sunday but things are looking great and I’m feeling mighty proud and I’m riding on endorphin fumes.   I love my shop and I’m as much at home here as anywhere. Who am I kidding? I spend more time in the shop than home, all I need is a bed and a shower and I could live there perfectly comfortable.  Wish my mom and dad could see what I’ve done, they’d be so proud. Gosh darn, I’m getting a little misty thinking about it. And thanks to my son Shane, he's been fabulous and I surely couldn’t do it without him.

Sue dropped by to lend a hand and Glenna was here so we all pitched in. Funny, there seems to be less space even with more room so there are pieces that will have to go into storage.  I have four antique pressed back chairs from my great uncle's house and Sue is going to paint them, each one a different colour...blue, yellow, red and green, they will sit nicely with the shaker style reproduction table I bought this past weekend at the Joy Of Antiques.   The chairs have been in the basement for some time so they will need a bit of glue and maybe some replacement parts but I have the guy for that. Charlene’s hubby Steve makes my frames and hooks and is as handy as they get. It’s great to have resource people to help with special needs.

I’m taking the evening off as this old body ain’t what she used to be. Guess I pushed the envelope last evening staying too late and my legs have ached all the day long. I’m headed for an Epsom Salts bath in hopes of relaxing the muscles so they carry me through tomorrow. I’m working for the day when I’m all caught up and can sit and hook, and look out over my little rug hooking empire that I’ve nurtured from infancy, feeling proud as any mother would.

Still have rugs to hang and more product to dye but it's a start!

A few of our pattern racks...lots more to do in this room to make it cosy!

5 Comments

Sunday Beginning Class

9/6/2013

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Beginning Rug Hooking Class

September 8th - Sunday Afternoon 1-4 pm
Introduction - Beginner

The class concentrates on technique. It is so important to learn proper loop
formation, the foundation of all your projects to come. Simple tips can
make the difference between higgly piggly loops and straight, uniform
ones. Holding your hook properly dictates the neatness of your work as
well as saving your wrist from repetitive stress.
In this class we concentrate on loop height and position.
We practice straight and curvy lines and circles.
Once you master these simple techniques you are ready to fly!

During the class you can use our equipment such as scissors, hoops, frames and hooks. You will need a project. There is a large selection of kits to choose
from or you can select a pattern from our racks .
We will colour plan the project and cut the wool.

After I demonstrate each technique there will be a practice
period and once you are comfortable, then you will begin
hooking your project.  I hover over you for
the new few hours to make sure you stay on track.
While you work, I talk to you about
all aspects of rug hooking and recount funny, hooking related stories.

Let's get you started! Bring a sense of humour
because we love to laugh!   Coffee and Tea will be served.

You will receive a handout to take away.

Teaching Fee $30.00

Release your inner hooker!

CONTACT US TODAY TO BOOK YOUR SPOT!
1-902-624-0370 or Toll Free 1-855-624-0370

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Raving about roving....or just raving?

9/5/2013

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Raving about roving!

Well, continuing with the booby theme, I got caught in my skivvies last night.   To stage the story, I went home for dinner, removed my shirt to save it from food stains, I tend to wear what I eat….you’d think my big chin would create a catch basin or at least deflect falling crumbs and dripping grease but no, so to play it safe I took off my blouse to dine in front of the TV.

I don’t sweat at least not doing everyday things. I can wear a top until it gets soiled and I do. I’m no slave to laundry and most of the time I have so much backlogged I have to wear an item more than once or go naked. I don’t know the laundry habits of others but I don’t find anything wrong with wearing a piece of clothing more than once if it isn't stained but maybe that’s a redneck thing to do? So now that you know my dirty little secret I’ll continue.

So I’m too tired to cook and have to go back to work so I bought a Save Easy roasted chicken for me and the pups, throw together a salad and I’m sitting in front of the TV watching a few taped programs of Coronation Street, secure in knowing there is no one around to see me. Oh, and I wash my face as soon as I get home to give it a rest from make-up and that’s a frightful thing so I'm happy no one is there to see me. I’m relaxed and as happy as a pig in a trough.

So roll ahead an hour and the dogs wake me from a very deep sleep. The night before I was awake, tossing and turning until 5:00 a.m. so it didn’t take much to drift off.   There is nothing like waking to four dogs losing their minds in an attempt to warn me of an intruder. So I focus on the back door that had been left open with only a screen between me and whoever was standing on the porch. I’m still a bit disoriented and as my eyes clear, I see Armenia Corkum standing on the mat, now being jumped on and licked by my guard dogs.   It didn’t take long for me to realize I was in my bra, plate on my lap and no makeup. Horror hits me like a mac truck.

I dashed to the study grabbing my shirt off the sofa back as I flee. Now decent, I'm buttoning it up on my way to the kitchen. She said she didn’t see anything and for her it wouldn’t have mattered but it could have been anyone standing there; I don’t even want to think about it!   That afternoon we’d phoned everyone on the list but Armeniia wasn’t at the cottage and didn’t get the message about the hook-in being cancelled. Oooops!

I’d cancelled out of sheer exhaustion. The night before there was a trip to the airport and then no sleep until early morn and it was crazy again yesterday at the shop. Considering previous years, crazy is a good thing, but that leaves little time to address orders during the day.   We are trying to move into the new space and all is ready to go except for the shifting of shelves and staging the shop, which all falls on my plate...I'm anal and need things just so. I just need a few hours to play! In the meantime, we are working like machines and almost have everything finished on the order board and I taste sweet victory, so your parcels are on the way!   Then I can concentrate on making the new space as cozy as the rest of the shop.

So after being awakened and slightly refreshed I went back into work. Every night this week I need to dye wool and prepare items for the shop. I dyed half of the roving that’s been sitting around for months and worked on a couple of patterns to be darkened today. By the time I left the shop it was 1:30, looking forward to getting horizontal and hopefully finding sleep!

So here is a pic of some of the roving I dyed for little bundles. It was fun. The curls of the wool are fabulous and the shine of the colour divine!   Tonight I’ll finish off the rest of the roving with more jewel tones and some earthy colours. Then to weigh and assemble into bundles and design a tag. What a delightful splash of colour this will provide for the studio.

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Mermaid attraction.....

9/4/2013

4 Comments

Sailor's Lure...28" x 96"

What is it about mermaids that intrigue us? A mermaid is a legendary aquatic creature with the upper body of a female human and the tail of a fish. Mermaids appear in the folklore of many cultures worldwide and are sometimes associated with perilous events such as floods, storms, shipwrecks and drowning. In other folk traditions they can be benevolent or beneficent, bestowing boons or falling in love with humans. No evidence of mermaids has ever been found but we like to believe they have and do exist.

At Encompassing Designs we're mermaid crazy. I've designed several patterns over the years and don't plan to stop anytime soon. Mermaid rugs are pure fantasy, allowing us to explore our artistic side to showcase a wide range of colour palettes with no wrong or right to the decision.

I have two large mermaid pieces; one in the shop and an even larger beauty in my upstairs bathroom. I have a half wall separating the room from the back staircase and I knew as soon as I saw her in a chandlers tent at the Wooden Boat Festival she was perfect to recline on the wall. Her presence adds mystique and atmosphere to the room and she's amazingly done, antiqued to perfection to appear 100 years old. Carved and then partially painted as if worn from years of sea winds and salt air, she was rubbed down with shoe polish and then buried in the ground to add to the aged patina. She's a real beauty and her eyes follow you about the room. Sometimes when I'm washing my hands at the sink and glance in the mirror her reflection gives me a start. I love everything about her and plan to work her into a rug pattern somewhere down the road.

The mermaid in my shop is a facsimile of a maidenhead of a great ship. She's bare chested and voluptuous; indicative of woman of the time. The figurehead embodied the spirit of a ship and was originally believed to placate the gods of the sea and ensure a safe voyage. Almost every prow had a carved figure looking down at the waves, and the variety was immense. Today's figureheads are all reproductions of originals in museums and maritime collections and are an evocative and decorative reminder of the bygone days of sailing ships.

A reclining, sultry vixen of the sea, resting comfortably in our bathroom.

She's mounted on the ceiling and sometimes goes unnoticed with all the colourful distractions of the shop, but at times she's zeroed in on and becomes the main focus. A child may wonder why Ariel, The Little Mermaid, isn't wearing clothes, or a man becomes breathy and excited asking if she's for sale; or a tall guy will bump into her, duck and then look up to see they've been accosted by a resin chest.   People have posed with her, wives have taken pictures of husbands grinning from ear to ear and one man posed with his nose between her cleavage just because. All in all she's attracted a lot of attention and by the shear numbers of requests to possess her, I think there are more than a few mermaid enthusiasts out there.

Over the years there have been many comments....I'm told I should stick pasties on her chest, paint the nipples to give the breasts a bit more life and other suggestions too rude to mention.  One time I was a bit creeped out when an older man, almost hyperventilating with excitement asked to purchase her. He was insistent that everything is for sale and to name my price.   I could tell by his reaction that he was more than enthralled by her and a female customer in the shop at the time saw it as well.   We shared a look between us as I told the man that she was very expensive and he probably couldn't afford her but he thought she was divine and well worth any price.   He asked one more time to buy her and I politely turned him down and by this point I just wanted him to leave as it was becoming rather uncomfortable. It was the way he stared up at her and licked his lips. The man left and the woman customer said "It's not like she has the anatomy of a blow up doll."   It was a side splitting comment and we laughed like fools, because I had been thinking the same thought.  Anyway, never a dull moment in the shop!

So a couple came through the door last week and I overheard a conversation that wasn't mean for my ears but being in close proximity at the work desk, it couldn't be helped.  I suppose if you expect a semblance of privacy you should do such things in private, not in public or in front of someone who likes to write about incidents and happenings. They weren't rug hookers, just browsing tourists having at look at all the shops in town. Personally I found it heartwarming that a couple in their middle to late seventies could be that playful with one another after all these years, but maybe they were newlyweds and still reeling from endorphins.  I wasn't about to ask.  I'll try to capture the essence of the moment although a video would do a better job.    It's one of those things were actions speak louder than words but I'll do my best to describe the pelvic, hip grinding motions.   I was torn between thinking it was sweet for their ages and wanting to giggle.

So the couple came in and the woman went directly to the kit display tree. Hubby, in tow spied the mermaid that hangs over that area and although I couldn't see his face I imagined there was a twinkle in his eye to match the pep in his step as he sidled up next to his wife who was fully engrossed in the assortment. I heard him say in a hushed tone, "Can I have one of those?" and as he said the words his hips trust forward and he touched the front of his pelvis to the side of her hip, a quick thrust forward and up like a flasher in a park sort of stance.

The wife, now distracted from the kits said "What?" and he pointed up and said "Up there." and once again he did the pelvic thrusty thing. They seemed totally oblivious to my presence or else didn't care, but she looked up and saw the mermaid's hovering chest and as she looked he said again "Can I have one? and she replied with sparkle, "Don't be so foolish" and very playfully gave him a little shove." He laughed and so did she and then continued to check out the shop with him in tow. I usually engage customers with conversation but I kept my head down and focused on the pattern I was drawing, although I looked up to say "Have a nice day" as they were leaving the shop.  The older man smiled and winked at me as he headed out the door.

Our shop figurehead, watching over the sea of wool in the shop.

4 Comments

"Blue" memories, a good thing!

9/3/2013

8 Comments

Look at the glee...nana was a rascal!

At the grocery store this weekend, I was reminded of a memory of my childhood. Blueberries are in season at the moment and the large boxes are available for baking and freezing. I’ve always loved the "blue" berry, a sweet burst of late summer wrapped in my favourite colour.

As a child I picked them in the wooded area behind our house and now at our current home, there’s an orchard over the hill bearing all kinds of apple and pear fruit trees and a twenty five foot row of bush blueberries that drip like grapes on a vine. Like potato chips, one is too many and a thousand is never enough, although this delicious, antioxidant is a far better dietary choice.

I love blueberry pie, (any pie really) and my mother and grandmother couldn't be topped with just the right amount of sugar and the perfect flaky crust. If I close my eyes I can see and smell the pie cooling on the the wood stove at grandma's house. The juices bursting with flavour, bubbled up around the crust to let you know what fruit awaited your fork. Nana would cut and let us eat the pie while it was still warm and the juices would ooze out and drown the bottom of the pie plate with sweet nectar.

Papa Olsen and two delicious blueberry pies!

Nana would slap those pies together in mere minutes, a lifetime of practice behind the skill. You might think my grandfather, Papa Olsen, was the target of this photograph but I'll bet I was immortalizing the delicious pies. I liked them better. Papa Olsen was a bit gruff and I was petrified of him. Don't know why because he never did anything directly to me but he was a no nonsense kind of fellow that didn't stand for any tomfoolery. As kids, I remember my mother telling stories about his strict, seemingly unfair rules of her childhood and maybe that was always in the back of my mind.  Nana on the other hand was always full of fun, all tales from my mother were relayed with smiles. Apparently she would allow her daughter's boyfriends to come a callin while papa was at work in the mines. As he came home the boyfriends would be hustled out the front door just before papa came through the back entrance.

The photo of Nana Olsen chasing me up the staircase with the broom is a precious memory frozen in time. Someone had given me an old camera and I snapped a bunch of pictures during that summer's visit and lucky for me or I wouldn't have any visual memories of the holidays in Springhill or pictures of my cousins. The photo below is Sharla, my idol, with hair down and tanned to perfection. Nana above, is chasing after me with the broom handle after I'd snuck up behind her and untied her apron probably a dozen or so times.

My Nana was a beautiful woman inside and out and full of the devil.  She loved to laugh, a deep throaty laugh; a genuine laugh. Her dark eyes sparkled as she chased me though the house as I frantically searched for cover to avoid the tickling of a lifetime and avoid being forced to squeal like a little piglet.

On the sly, she would press a nickel into my hand, put a finger over her lips and do a head gesture in the direction of the little store down the road. That was our little secret, and I'd secure a bag of penny candy to satisfy both of our sweet tooth's. We'd huddle in the living room, out of site to hand over the contraband. Not such a terrible thing for me, but Nana was a type II diabetic and was supposed to behave herself.

If asked to describe her in one word it would have been "fun". She cheated at cards and snapped gum, told tale tales to pull our legs and pinched our bottoms. She was lively and quick, chasing me through the house and up the stairs. Yup, she wasn’t a grandmother who spent all her time with the adults, she was full of fun and had us kids on the run!

My cousins all lived in Springhill but the sun rose and set on Sharla. After the much anticipated hug from Nana, all I wanted was to see Sharla and the ants in the pants started until the trek was made up the hill and down the glen.  I thought of nothing but her throughout the year, maybe even wrote a letter or two, I idolized the ground she walked on and lived for those two weeks vacation. I'm not sure how she felt about me but that didn't matter, I loved her enough for the both of us.

If memory serves me correct she was slightly older than me and a year ahead in school. My December birth date held me back during the days when you had to be five before September to start the school year.    I was somewhere between her age and her younger sister Brenda.   I do remember, quite vividly, that Sharla was brilliant, scoring perfect report cards every year. No idol of mine was ever second rate!

Terry, her older brother was handsome and I may have had a little crush on him....well okay, I had a gynormous ole crush and got pretty quiet in his presence, communicating with a flushed face and down-turned head.   Cousins aside, we were virtually strangers except for those two weeks a year so a little crush was allowed. It wasn't as if he was going to kiss me or return my feelings.  He probably thought I was a gangly, wet behind the ears country bumpkin and barely tolerated me in as much as I thought he was handsome and cool.

I adored Sharla, and envied her with equal ferocity. Not only was she gorgeous, with a long braid down her backside, a direct contrast to my bowl cut, around the ears butcher, but even more importantly, she got to see Nana any day of the week. She had the luxury to just pop in after school to say hi to get one of those special hugs any time she wished.  What a lucky girl she was, she and her siblings. There were three, two brothers, Terry and Kirk and a sister Brenda. Luckiest darn kids in the world as far as I was concerned.

During the summer holidays Nana used to braid their hair because their mom, Sarah, left early for work. They'd pop in and she'd split the locks into three tails and weave them into this thick, perfect braid and I would sit and watch envying every single hair on their heads. What a memory for Bendra and Sharla to savour, the best Nana in the world fixing their hair, tugging it into the perfect braid. I remember how their heads rocked back and forth as Nana pulled each tail so it fit snug and tight into the braid. My eyes would have been as big as saucers....little green saucers, because my mother would never allow our hair to grow beyond stubble; apparently it was too much of a chore to maintain, making it a life long desire to grow locks down my back.

My Mom with her mom, Beatrice (Nana) Olsen.

Both sets of my grandparents lived in Springhill and every summer we loaded up the car and made the three hour trek to the other side of the province. The excitement was thicker than pea soup and I squirmed in the backseat, pestering my dad every couple of minutes with “are we there yet?” or "How much longer?" Hugs from Nana Olsen were awaiting me and I had to get there quickly to bask in the warmth of her soft matronly chest.  The smell of faded Avon talc and her soft, fleshy arms wrapped around me was the highlight of my summer. For the seconds the warm embrace lasted, I was the most important person in the world. I could have stayed in her arms forever, feeling loved and safe there. There are no words to describe the loving warmth of a grandparent, I won't even try.....I couldn't do it justice!

Springhill is famous for three things. One is Anne Murray, second is coal mining and the related historical disasters, and thirdly the blueberry.   They grew everywhere on the residual rocky glaciated landscape, and as the season peeked you saw a blanket of blue as far as the eyes could see.  They had a blueberry factory, not sure if it was right in Springhill or in the surrounding area, but a lot of the townsfolk worked there. The company hired scoopers and paid them by the flat to clear the fields.  The more you worked the more money you pocketed.  My hard working cousins scored well. The haul was somewhere between $75 and a $100, a lot of money back in those days, especially to someone only used to an allowance of .25 cents like me. I asked or begged to tag along to make some big money too, but that didn’t work out so much.

My eyes couldn't believe the bounty before me. The blue went on for miles and my eyes nearly popped out of my head as my stomach growled in anticipation of the feast.   I plunked my lazy butt at the beginning of a row and ate my way to the end, scooping the bare minimum to line the bottom of my pail. I don’t know where they all went but I managed to cram them in, filling my stomach and the esophagus all the way up to the back of my throat. Probably had about a hundred dollars worth of berries in there. I was wearing white pants that weren’t so brilliant after sitting on what I didn’t eat. And I don’t think I’ve ever pooped like that since.  There needs to be a new word invented to describe the clean-out I experienced.   It’s truly a wonder it didn’t come out of both ends, I should have been sick, maybe enough to put me off blueberries for life, but miraculously, I held them all in although bending over was out of the question and only a burp or two hinted that there was discontent brewing in the land of acids and enzymes.

I earned an humiliating $7.50, evidence that some berries made it into the flat. I was viewed with a few head shakes and I wasn’t invited to go back the next day. I probably embarrassed my hard working cousins who had vouched for me. Having never seen that kind of abundance I lost my mind, transforming into a two legged piggy with blue stained teeth and fingers, lagging far behind as the real pickers moved to further fields.   I’m sure the novelty would have worn off quickly and a second chance at the fields might have allowed some decent money in my pocket, but I don’t think they wanted me back to eat them out of house and home. For a little thing I had a healthy appetite, or maybe it would be best described as an unhealthy one.

Scooping the berries with a box like tool was slick. It had a handle and teeth along the bottom, like a comb pick. You push it along the bush just under the leaves and the berries, draw it upwards and they fall off into the scoop. Then you filled up a container that you carry with you and then dump that into something called a flat. Leaves, grubs and all else went into the scoop that got separated later at the factory.

I spent the little money I made at the candy store down the road, liquidating it all into sugar. Back in the day you could buy a ton of sweets for pennies. Twenty-five for a nickel kept a girl busy chewing for hours.    Those were the days of tar babies and licorice cigars, my favorites and they were twice the size of any candy today! I remember the counter behind glass, staring into the objects of my desire.   The colours of sugar are as splendid as the colours of wool!

So every time I see berries in a box at this time of year, I think of those days in with my cousins in the Springhill blueberry fields, eating my way to nirvana. Very happy pages in the book of my childhood.

A rake and a flat of scooped blueberries.

Blueberries are in abundance in Springhill. Any field was covered in blue and there for the taking. Nana would whip up a blueberry pie anytime a tin full arrived home and she’d cut it while still warm so the liquid would ooze out and pool in the bottom of the pie plate. A juice so sweet it could have been the nectar or the gods. Her crust was killer, and although I can make a crust equal to the memory, I dread having a full pie at my disposal, one piece being too many and a full plate not enough. I search for the perfect pie in restaurants but they always pale in comparison, except for The Gazebo Café in Mahone Bay, a close second and enough to do the job of rekindling the memory.    Well worth the stained teeth and high blood sugar scores.

And just a little rant....none of this microwave pie crap for me. Pasty put through a nuking is soggy and limp. A pie needs oven heating to gently warm the fruit and enhance the dough into a crunchy, mouth watering flake.   Restaurants ought to be ashamed to send out microwaved, wilted pie, but maybe today's folks don't know what a good old fashioned oven baked pie should taste like....I'm full of sadness for them.......

I recently connected with Sharla through Facebook and she popped by my shop one Sunday when I wasn’t there and left her card in the consignment shop next door. I hope to meet up again soon, maybe hash around the old days a bit and catch up on our current lives.

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