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Made For Walkin' wins Judges Choice

11/30/2012

Some time ago I received this note fom Diane Craig and just found the picture while surfing through my albums. I thought you may enjoy this piece as much as I did!.

Dear Christine,

Just a note to tell you that your design, "Made For Walkin" won Judges Choice in a show held last weekend in Burlington. I met you a few years ago and hooked with your group on Wednesday evening.

The judge said: This was creative and well conceived. It is an effective design with an excellent double complementary colour system. The up and down key border was particularly successful!

Diane Craig

Tri Relaxing wins an award!

11/29/2012

I pulled this picture off the Ontario Rug Hooking Guild site and wanted to share. It's just wonderful to see one of my designs hooked and to find out it's an award winner...well, my chest is sticking out a bit farther today!   Congrats to Pat Coulson; apparently it was her first rug ever! The award was for "Beginner" and if this is any indication of her talent, there are great things coming down the pike.

I remember a customer buying the pattern and some wool who requested a red chair instead of the yellow in the picture attached to the pattern, so I wonder if it's the same person?   The colours are, Heart Red, Old Blue Eyes, and Lime. Great job! Pat, you made my day!

When I originally designed this piece for Armenia Corkum, one of the Main Street Hookers who meet at my shop every 1st and 3rd Wednesday of the month, my hubby came up with the cute name "Tri Relaxing". He's a clever one.   Doesn't this pattern make you hanker for summer; sitting out on an Adirondack chair sipping homemade lemonade or a G&T?

http://www.ohcg.org

Armenia's Version. She sold the rug to a woman who wouldn't take no for an answer. Armenia then hooked a second one.

A commission hooked by Sue Cunningham. Different colours, different look. Isn't colour a wonderful thing?! Change this or that and you have a totally different feel!

Father Christmas Festival Week #1

11/28/2012

This past weekend marked the first week of the Mahone Bay Father Christmas Festival. The town was abuzz with all things festive, with street musicians, Father Christmases, thousands of sparkling lights and decorated store fronts and windows.   A horse drawn wagon clip clopped up and down the main street filled with passengers huddled together from
the cold, experiencing a mode of travel long forgotten…what a delightful touch. People love a
festival! You can check out the Mahone Bay website link listed before for activities and events.

Our shop had a special visit from St. Nick and his wife or maybe she was his mistress elf…gee I wouldn’t want to start a rumour about the old guy. The festive couple were regaled in seasonal costumes made by Vicki Bardon of Suttles & Seawinds.   Our St. Nick was played, very realistically, by our very own Dr. Abriel, and yes, that’s his real beard folks!  The lovely lady accompanying  him is his wife Heather.   I’ll bet they had fun visiting the shops and stopping to chat with people passing by. (Sorry, I just have to say, "gosh the shop looks great in this picture!")

It was cold last weekend and windy. The gloves are on people, winters here! Considering the temperatures earlier in the week it was a bit of a disappointment, but then again cold weather goes against my grain. I was meant for warmer climates but I suppose if I live long enough global warming will accommodate me. My Father Christmas, that may or may not be a depiction of King Neptune, had to be brought inside as the wind toppled him twice. I think the poor guy broke his neck as it’s hanging at a weird angle.

The shop wasn’t as busy as other years but frankly I feel it’s just too early. In November we are still hanging on to fall, not wanting to think about winter and snow and changing tires and the long, cold haul ahead. December, on the other hand, is synonymous with Christmas and we all want to see a bit of the white stuff so being it on! Once the 12th month rolls around, I think people swing into festive action and get serious about shopping, make fruit cake and shortbreads, drag out the ornaments, erect a tree, and buy the Christmas Crackers.   That's my plan anyway.

Hope to see you out and about this coming weekend. Drop by the shop for a bit of Christmas cheer!   Don't forget, our coupon is still in effect until December 2nd when the Festival ends.
Give like Santa, save like Scrooge!

http://www.mahonebay.com/festivals-events/father-christmas-festival.html

Ginny Zinck

11/27/2012

This pattern is called Alice, named after a dear friend. A Persian style design, this piece is going to be a stunner. Ginny Zinck, one of our Wednesday evening hook-in women is doing a sensational job. The colours are perfect for my house so that makes it even more delicious and I won't be dry eyed as this piece nears completion. There is nothing more exciting than seeing one of my designs come to life, especially at the skilled hands of someone who does the kind of work Ginny is noted for.

Ginny is a multi-talented crafter, accomplished in all kinds of fine handwork. Once, she brought a quilt to the hook-in for show and tell and I absolutely lusted after it. I kid you not, it was the most beautiful quilt I've ever seen. It was all done in ivory with immaculate hand stitching. I was speechless and, if you know me, you'll realize how rare that is!

Ginny's rug hooking is some of the best I've seen, with machine quality precision and hand dyed wools that bring class and dignity to each project.

Ginny has been hooking with our group pretty much since we started. Currently, my studio is the only hooking venue that meets in the evenings. Around this county, you can hook pretty much any day of the week and twice on Sundays, and for the women who still work outside the home, our evening sessions are appreciated. The social aspect of rug hooking is always an attraction, and the feedback you receive from one another is the fuel that keeps you congregating for show and tell.

Ginny hooked the William Morris Redcar below. She's fearless....never afraid to take on the big projects that call for finer cuts. Stayed tuned for updated progress on Alice.

Ruby by Mary Doig

11/26/2012

Ruby the Welsh Terrier
Christmas Stocking

We adopted Ruby as an adult dog three years ago and she is a delight!   If only she liked other dogs, she would be perfect.

I decided that I would make a Christmas stocking for each member of our family, of something that was special to them. So Ruby is on my
Dad’s.   He often tells her what a special little person she is. And she knows it.

I took a class in animals with Elizabeth Black at the Rug Hooking Guild of Nova Scotia’s Truro school. She is an excellent teacher. She helped me simplify my pattern (removed the pattern on Ruby’s leash – too busy for a small work, and removed the NS tartan kerchief that Ruby was wearing – also too busy). She suggested the abrashed turquoise background that turned out to be perfect for it. I can’t even remember now what colour I initially had planned, but it was no match for the turquoise.   Before rug school, I played around in the dye pot a lot to find the right colours for Ruby. I finally decided on a black to reddish brown reverse transitional swatch – 10 values. It’s amazing how close it is to her coat.

My dad really likes his Christmas stocking, and I think Ruby is quite pleased with it, too.

By Guest Blogger Mary Doig

Going For The Cure!

11/25/2012

Hooking should come with a warning label. It’s infectious and there isn't really a cure, so it keeps coming back, over and over until it fills our houses with rugs.   Some may be bitten with a mild case and have only a few rugs on their floors and walls, but others are bitten severely and have filled their houses, to such a degree that excess pieces are forced into trunks and closets, hidden away as not to shock the observer with the degree of our sickness.  Fortunately, this disease is not life threatening but the symptoms can vary in intensity. Once you feel the desire to hook the next project, get to your nearest rug hooking store for the cure.

The first sign that you’ve been infected is the presence of random thoughts. Your mind skips all over the place until it settles on a project, making you dizzy in the process. Some find relief by purchasing a ready-made pattern while others prefer self-dosing and sketch their own design. Getting this out of your system as quickly as possible is a must, because you can experience feelings of 'bursting at the seams' which means it’s now too late, you’ve reached second stage.

Luckily this stage doesn’t last long and as soon as your idea is laid to paper there will be a sense of release before a new symptom wells up to take its place. For this, call a rug shop and take one to two yards of burlap or linen, this should bring some relief. Once that is out of the way and your pattern is on the backing, along comes stage three, the overwhelming desire to hunt down and secure the wool.   This can be the most feverish stage and be warned, there could drool. Your eyesight may falter as you stare half delirious at yard upon yard of wool, while your brain plays tricks of indecision. Your feverish mind screams silently, "Why can't I have it all?"

Forth stage is the actual hooking, the longest stage before the inevitably end.   Try not to get distracted so you can get through it quickly. Don’t let it lie around and fester, prolonged delays can lead to anxiousness and subject you to comments from annoying, over achiever, “I can hook a rug in two weeks”, hookers. Remember, all stages are highly contagious and meeting in groups will spread it rapidly. Unfortunately, being exposed does not build immunities and you will experience the same symptoms for every project you do.

Side effects might vary from hooker to hooker:

1. Anal retentiveness, far better than anal leakage but just as annoying.

  2. If you think your floor stand will be erect for more than four hours, immediately call your friends and make an evening of it.

3. Erratic behavior in rug shops; the impulse to fondle, caress and spend money for wool that you hide from your husband in the trunk of your car.

4. Hyperventilating from the sight of a piece of wool that someone found on the store shelf or Frenchies, seconds before you arrived and won't part with it.

5. Insomnia may occur; hooked in bed and the wool dust keeps you sneezing and itching.

6. Stiffness in joints from prolonged sitting in one position.

7. Skin Irritations; gripper rash.

8. Drowsiness at work the following day from hooking past midnight the night before.

9. Irritability; that housework and family get in the way of completing your rug.

10. Taking on higher doses of projects than you can handle.

11. Dry mouth may occur; take 1 to 2 glasses of wine, rum or scotch.

12. Lack of sexual drive; lust is only for ruggy not huggy!

13. Experiencing highs and lows….in loop height.

14. Confusion; can’t decide what colour looks best in a particular area, ripping it out, trying something else and then ripping that out and putting the first choice back in.

15. Increased hyperactivity, hooking fast to Git-R-Done!

16. Excessive sweating; already hormonally challenged with debilitating hot flashes, don't you think a wool rug on your lap in 30 degrees Celsius temperatures, with 100% humidity could be a cause not a symptom?

17. Decreased interest in work, outside activities, family and non rug hooking friends.

18. Addictive behaviors, such as wool hoarding.

19. Lapse in judgement; you want to buy wool and consider a bolt....to the car that is, with a stash tucked under your arm while screaming at hubby, "Start the car! Start the car!"

20. Incontinence; Too busy hooking to get up and go to the bathroom after all that wine. A box of Depends? - Priceless!

Warning:

Do not operate heavy machinery or drive while rug hooking!

Depression - Can occur if you sit furniture on your rug for long periods, but don’t worry the loops should spring back once the object is removed.

A Support Group is held at 7:00 pm, the 1st and 3rd Wednesday of every month at Encompassing Designs Rug Hooking Studio. All hookers are welcome. Help for all stages is available. You are not alone!

The Great Wall Of Wool!

11/24/2012

Well, I finally decorated the shop window just in the nick for the Festival and now I can relax a bit...not! My to-do list is looking shorter but it's still lengthy....fingers crossed by the end of this coming week I should be ahead of the eight ball.

We had to rearrange the shop to accommodate the extra wool rack we added to the existing three, so there is now an entire wall of wool. So delicious to see, all those wonderful colours, a feast for the eye! We had to shift the large bookshelf to another area but it’s all working; it’s amazing what you can fit into an already crammed space. All that's left is the ceiling and don't think I haven't considered it...gravity is the only thing stopping me! Shane has been dyeing up a storm and we have recently taken shipment of dozens of new plaids, some so beautiful I grabbed an armload for my own stash; ownerships should have some perks right?

The Great Wall of Wool! One of the seven wonders of the hooking world!

Another new addition to the shop is our coloured burlap and also something called linen/burlap.
Lots of exciting colours, seasonal reds and greens, charcoal, soft pink, periwinkle blue and a very light sea foam blue that reminds me of a cottage on the beach. There is a black and even a white; a very nautical gold and navy; the orange and rust are perfect for next fall’s projects and would look great sporting a hooked pumpkin in the center and made in to a pillow. Sue was in the states recently and said people are sewing pillows out of burlap and appliqueing a design in the center but we could hook one!

I'll take pictures of the other colours later today.

I taught a class today and got to know two very nice women. They weren’t newbies, just wanted to make sure they were on the right track.   They came bearing a gift, a Bundt carrot cake and it was a plate licker! I’m a diabetic so I really shouldn’t but I could never look a gift cake in the mouth and turn it down. I make a joke, when I cheat, that it’s so good it’s worth losing a toe over and I sometimes wonder what people must think. Of course I’m kidding and someday if one falls off I’ll kick myself, or maybe not…. The other catch phrase I’ve been known to use over a particularily delicious morsel is “It’s better than sex” but I don’t really mean that either..…at least not all the time. (Yes, I fully understand diabetes is serious…I’m just kidding around!)

For me, eating dessert means a few extra jumps on my indoor trampoline.   If you want to lower your blood sugar quickly that’s the way to fly. A couple of dozen hard pumps and running on the spot and you knock your score to normal. Too bad you couldn’t carry the thing around in your purse and whip it out every time you fall prey to a craving.

I first heard about the benefits of the trampoline a few years ago while watching the Shopping Channel and figured I'd give it a whirl...what the heck? If it didn’t work, I’d just squeeze it into the closet with all other pieces of exercise equipment I’ve wasted money on over the years.
Good intentions and all, I wonder how much money we spend on home fitness equipment that we fall out of love with, ban it to the basement, garage or closest and then doom it to the yard sale for a fraction of the price. Carrying it out to the yard is probably the most exercise it's provided!

So the trampoline is the only piece of gear I’ve stuck with and it has plenty of merit. First of all it gets your blood pumping to every part of your body, even the tiniest vessels in your feet, making you all pink and tingly! Supposedly it firms up the chest area, that’s a claim the jury is still out on, at my age how would you even tell? And of course the main reason I use it, there is very low
impact on my bad knee. But all that aside, it’s just pure fun with added benefits.   It always reminds me of jumping on the bed when I was a child. I bought it around the time I realized
my pancreas wasn’t working so efficiently and it keeps my blood sugar in check after eating too large a meal or if I’ve cheated. Oh and yes, another great benefit, it tightens up the Kegel muscles very quickly, because you have to keep squeezing to prevent wetting your pants. The first couple of times you use it, I recommend you pee first and maybe wear a pad but after that, no problem. Hmm...I wonder if any men are reading this post? Well, on that note I’m off to bed!

Father Christmas Festival Coupon

11/22/2012

Straight on the grain please!

11/21/2012

Here I sit at the computer when I swore I would be in bed before midnight! I’ve been working late at the shop to get a few things done and by the time I get home, feed the dogs and try to relax mind and body, it’s well past the witching hour.  Lately I’ve been burning the candle on both ends like I own a wax factory and I’m not sure how much to blame on menopause or my lifestyle. So now it’s past 1:00 am and I’m so wide awake I might as well put the time to good use and just sleep in tomorrow. I think that’s the same reasoning I used last night and the night before and so on. Maybe I should have an automated switch set to cut the power at midnight, forcing me to bed at a reasonable time.

My new website and all it entails has put a bit of lead back in the old pencil. Now I’m not sure if a woman can use that metaphor but I’ve been a lot sharper these days so what the heck. I’ll admit I was floundering after 12 years of doing the same thing and I needed a recharging of the batteries. Now, I’ve got ideas coming out the wazoo and there aren’t enough hours in the day to bring everything to fruition.   I’m working my butt off for a change, although it doesn’t seem to be getting any smaller!

The new website and the opportunity to write these blogs has reawakened my passion for, and given me a new lease on the business. I love to write. I’m currently working on a novel about a serial killing granny and I’m also putting the polish on a few articles I hope to have published by Rug Hooking Magazine, so I’ve been a busy little beaver. I’ve also been working nights and Sundays trying to cross a few things off my list to clear the way for the fun stuff like my new work desk, still waiting for its paint job. Work comes before play and I’ve got to get the orders out so I can address my precious.

So I worked on Sunday and Mary dropped by for a bit of a chit-chat and to hook. She’s doing a fabulous job on the Christmas stocking for her daughter-in-law but it’s a guarded secret until Krista opens it Christms morning.  I can barely contain myself from putting it up on Facebook for all the world to see! Mary is one talented artist and hooker. She should be teaching rug hooking instead of dispensing drugs! I guess it might be prudent now to mention that Mary's a pharmacist.

So we are chatting about the good ole days and talk got around to when I started the business and how wonderfully bullheaded and stubborn I can be. It’s a flaw that runs through me that’s been there since I popped out of the womb. And with good reason. My mother was in full blown labour during one of the biggest snowstorms of 1958 and dad managed to plough through the snow drifts with his 1949 tank of a Ford and arrived at the hospital to discover the doctor was a no show. Due to some antiquated protocol, the nurses tied my mother’s legs together, her wrists to the bed rails and left her screaming to the heavens for mercy while they waited for any doctor to rescue the grave situation. Both of our lives were in jeopardy. My mother was hanging by a thread of consciousness and I was becoming bluer than suede shoes. Just in the nick of time a doctor crashed through the delivery doors with snowshoes tucked under his arm. He’d walked against the driving wind and snow to save me. Still wearing his parka, I shot into his waiting arms like a well-greased torpedo. As the tale goes, my mother weakly called the doctor “her prince” and would discover that his name was Dr. Andrew Prince! I guess if I was a boy I’d be Andy, but being close to Christmas, Christine I would be and the rest is history. But I digress.

So, I think my stubborn streak was formed while I was stuck in the birth canal. It seemed like the world was rejecting me with a figurative slap on the old keister, and then literally, taking several whacks before I started to breathe and then cry. But once I did, my screams ricocheted off those grey walls and I scolded those nurses with a bit of Chrissy sass. How dare they tell me when or if I would be born! So I’m stubborn, I’ll admit it, but geez can you blame me? If I don’t want to do something, good luck with that.  As far back as kindergarten, if the teacher said “draw a tree”, I had to be in the mood to draw a tree or I would draw a dog or absolutely nothing. After being told I had no right to be born on my own natural terms, I’d be taken over the rest of the decision making thank-you, and doing what I wanted, when I wanted! That’s me in a nutshell, stubborn. Oh, and before I continue with this story I would just like to reiterate how special I am and ask; hands people, how many of you can say you were delivered by a prince????

So Mary and I were laughing about my first attempts at transferring a design to a backing. I’d conveniently forgotten about all that angst  but Mary kindly reminded me how much of a pain I was over the ordeal. For some reason I just didn’t get it. The one side of the pattern I gave her was almost straight on the grain, but the other side was out over an inch and I couldn’t understand how, once she straightened that side, that now looked as crooked as a ram’s horn, how the rug was going to be square when it was hooked.  I tested Mary’s patience to the very last nerve but she remained as sweet as always. I'll admit, back then, I used to be like a grain of sand under the eyelid…irritating. I don’t know why I didn’t get it but sometimes when you protest too much, your mouth is in gear so that your ears don’t function properly. Then you get defensive cause now you’re feeling a bit stupid and it all goes in the toilet. I can just imagine what Mary must have been thinking…”What have I gotten myself into?”

But oh my, those poor rug hookers working on my compass rose designs! These designs are almost totally composed of straight lines and none of them were on the straight of the grain! Now that’s what you call friends! I gave patterns to my hooking group to make into rugs. My goal was to have them all hooked and displayed when I had my shop grand opening. So I designed all the patterns on paper, and then used red dot to transfer the image to the backing. I slapped it down, pinned it, and traced all the lines with the marker and that was that. The backings weren’t straight, nor did I try to adjust them into a square so you can just imagine how the marker lines crossed the grain! Oh my!

Now, no one told me I was doing anything wrong and bless the hearts of those friends who struggled hooking those compasses.   I hooked Navigator’s Delight so I know it wasn't easy. It was filled with borders and straight lines and diamond shapes. What a mess! Not one line was straight on the grain, but you know what? I was ignorant and ignorance is bliss, if you don’t know you’re looking at hard times, then life’s not so bad. When you don’t know a task is difficult, if no one has planted the “it can’t be done” seed in your head, you just do the work to the best of your ability, and that’s what I did. Every hooked line is perfectly straight; I just kept making corrections and then hooking up against rows I needed to push one way or the other. Today I would cuss a blue streak if I was working on a pattern that was stamped and crooked on the grain.

So it was Mary who enlightened me, Mary my friend and mentor. She showed me the corrections she’d made before she starting hooking the design, Red Sky At Night, and let me tell you, all those nasty red marker lines freaked me out cause I’m anal and don’t like messy patterns. I marveled that she could even make out the design through the mess to hook it.    Thank goodness Mary stuck with me until I had the light bulb moment or I could have been out of business in less than a year!   Imagine that, those simple beginnings almost thirteen years ago, greener than a tree frog with so much to learn. What a journey I’ve been on and the ride ain’t over!

Navigators Delight hooked by me. (This is a terrible picture as the colours are too over exposed and bright and nothing like the original rug.) This pattern is almost the identical twin to Red Sky At night, the only difference is in the border. I had the diamonds while Mary's had the triangles. This compass rose design was taken from the oldest found compass from back in the 1400's. I very decorative piece.

Red Sky At Night hooked by Mary Doig. Gorgeous reds and blues, my favorites. Colour always intrigues me and I've found over the years that men favour the colours in Navigator's Delight while women choose the blues and reds of Mary's version. I think maybe it has something to do with the green?

Searching for Chris McNeil

11/20/2012

Hi Chris,

I'm hoping you follow my blog. We misplaced the paper with your phone number! Could you please email or phone the shop. Thanks! Toll Free 1-855-624-0370

Father Christmas Festival

11/19/2012

What an interesting day I’ve had. A wool order arrived and I did a bit of fondling. My God, wool is nothing like it used to be, it’s soft and so snuggly you just want to pull it around you and have a nap. The colours in this batch are so inspiring I won’t be able to sleep tonight as visions of it dance in my head.

I dyed a killer red curly mohair today that I affectionately named Carrot Top.  I abrashed a skein with red, orange and reddish brown and it turned out better than expected.   “Carrot Top” was one of my old nicknames from school, that and “Pissy Chrissy”...guess not much rhymes with Chrissy. Pissy kind of implies I smelled of urine, not exactly a confidence booster when you’re trying to fit in and make friends.

I’ve never quite understood the term carrot top. To me it infers something green but maybe I don't understand the anatomy of the carrot and it really wasn’t a good fit considering I spent my first six years as a blond.  When my hair follicles graduated to strawberry blond, I guess that was the bridge to carrot top, and throw in my least favorite moniker, "chicken legs" and I was almost edible.

Anyway, this fabulous red curly mohair is perfect for a sassy mermaid’s mane or a Tango dancer's flowing locks, and then there's always Anne Shirley. There’s something about a redhead that inspires a bit of naughty. In his youth, my hubby’s dream girl always sported red hair and I think it’s a bit of a stretch for me, but he seems to think I fit the bill so who am I to argue.

Father Christmas Festival is this weekend and I’m working on my window design, well, in my head anyway, like I have the time to decorate! The season crept up on me once again, so the rug I hoped to hook for this year’s display isn’t even started. It’s the same one I planned to do for last year’s window and I think it’s still behind the chair in the bedroom. Where does the time go? I could blitz the rug and pull it out of my….um hat by the first of December but that won’t help me for this weekend’s festivities. My inner Grinch purposely procrastinates as I really have a problem decorating with any amount of enthusiasm the middle of November. Christmas comes early in retail so by the time Santa comes down the chimney you’ve overdosed on Elvis’s "Blue Christmas' and Bing’s "White" one. But you can’t fight the grain so I’ll dig out the lights tomorrow and throw together a theme before Wednesday’s hook-in. But of course don't hold your breath, I think last year I was hanging lights Friday evening as customers came through the door. I really need a PA…...

The Good, The Bad & The Ugly

11/18/2012

Into every rug hooker's life a little chat about copyright must come. I so appreciate all you honest rug hookers out there, it keeps the shops in business. Anyone who sells their artistic goods to the public will understand that it can be a very tricky. Some people are of the assumption that if they buy a pattern they have the right to make peronsal copies of it, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Basically it is stealing, no different than if you came into the shop, stuffed a pattern in your purse and walked out the door. Our Nova Scotia Rug Hooking Guild promotes honesty in the hooking fold which is a huge help but copying still goes on more than most might think. I could tell you dozens and dozens of stories of things I've heard and seen with my own eyes. If you add up all those "extra copies" floating around out there it is clearly a detriment to my business. And another important point; patterns are usually the bread and butter of the rug hooking businesses, the one item you are able to make some profit on, as let's face it wholesale discounts today are a bit of a joke. The 100% of yesteryear is but a faded memory, today you are luck to get 15%-20% and once the high rates of shipping are added to get those items to your door, the percentage of profit is hacked even lower.   Impossible figures to live on.

I do my part to educate new rug hookers by incorporating the copyright chat to those I teach.  Sometimes customers tell me right to my face they plan on making copies for family members or friends and I very diplomatically explain why they shouldn't and sometime I feel they appreciate being told while other times, I know it didn't make a difference. Over the years I've talked to other shop owners and they also tell tales of the struggle to keep in the black and many have had to close their doors due to customers copying their designs. I'm sure the average shopper doesn't realise how much copying patterns hurt when they can't see the bigger picture.

Another copyright quagmire was the service I offered of custom designing for customers. I've been blessed with the ability to draw so I thought it might be nice to offer rug hookers who weren't so fortunate, the opportunity to work on custom designs that really meant something to their lives.  Probably 85% walked away thrilled with their designs, but there was that pesky 15%, not so much. After being threatened with lawyers and accused of stealing designs I’ve had to take the service off the table, it just isn't worth the angst I've had to go through. A quick comparison...a photographer can take your picture but you don't have any rights to the photograph even though it's an image of your own face, unless of course you’ve paid the high fee for exclusive rights. The same goes with my custom designing, I did not sell the rights to the design, only a burlap or linen copy, but for some reason people think I'm a thief if I make another copy and hang it on the rack in the shop.

All artwork comes with an automatic copyright. You can come into the shop with a photo of your beloved pooch and ask that I make it into a pattern and as soon as I’ve laid pencil to paper that sketch of your pooch is mine. I spend hours on every design I do and add that to the burlap or linen cost and Bonnie's wage to put the pattern on the backing and I'm the hole. That is why I try to design patterns that appeal to the masses to make the effort worthwhile. I’ve done the odd baby or two, (now I don’t mean the babies were odd…) and homes that can’t be sold as a general design because when I really like the person, the subject or if the work challengers me, I go the extra mile to give the customer a pattern they love and not worry about the hours that took me to do the work.  Sadly, that service has been stripped from the table and I only help the women in my rug hooking group as I know there won't be any backlash down the road.   My group is well versed in the dos and don't of copyright after hearing my rants!

These two stories are not meant to be negative, just two examples of copyright issues that got out of hand. No business is without problems but overall the good far outweighs the bad and these are just learning cuves of dealing with the public.

A woman who had asked me to design a pattern of her dog the year before, came into the shop to browse through my patterns. We were having a lovely conversation until she came across the pattern of her dog on the rack and went from one to one hundred in the pissed off lane. She turned black with rage, accusing me of stealing the design and then threatened to sic her lawyer on me. Nothing I could say convinced her I had the right to that drawing and she left in a royal huff, probably bad mouthing me to anyone and everyone who would listen that Christine Little was a thief.  This was the straw that broke the camel's back; it was time to take that service off the table. Being represented as a thief is never good for business nor did I want to deal with that kind of abuse again. Several things had previously happened to prove it just wasn't worth the hassle. Words hurt; I’m made of flesh and bone, not deflecting armour, and whether you think you have a case or not, that is no way to a person.

Over the years, I’ve designed quite a few patterns for people that have gone on to win 1st prize ribbons and honourable mentions. I’ve proudly discovered my creations in Rug Hooking Magazine but was instantly deflated when the captions don't mention my name but listed the rug hooker as the designer.  The local newspapers have featured articles of hooked rugs I’ve created but time and again the hooker took all the credit. Sometimes I think I can’t win, so much so that it is a running joke at the shop when we see one of my designs featured in some publication and my name is a no-show, we say, “typical, wouldn’t expect anything else”. The very first custom pattern I ever designed was featured in a local newspaper and the customer took full credit for
designing it. Hungry for any kind of advertising, this would have sent the locals to my door but no, I was passed over like a beggar in the street! Sometimes the lack of words can hurt just as much as a slew of them.

The worst story by far was a design I created for a woman who entered a prestigious, juried show. She came into the shop with a stickman drawing in front of a box that represented a piano. I listened to her concept of what she had in mind, took it further by adding elements I thought were relevant and produced a design of Beethoven sitting behind his piano, with candelabras hanging from the ceiling, velvet draped curtains framing the stage, a marble floor and an audience. White music notes were coming out of his ears representing his deafness while black notes carried the music out into the audience. I made sure those notes were the actual music for Ode To Joy which surprised the customer with great delight, so much so that she hugged me.

She left the shop all eager to get started while I floated around on a design high. At the end of the day the woman phoned me to ask why the copyright symbol and my name was on the bottom of the pattern.  I told her it was my artwork so therefore I owned the rights to the design. I told her if she had wanted an exclusive design she would have paid far more than $50.00. I had worked on that pattern several days and well into the nights.  She said “oh” and that was the last I heard of it. She came back to the shop a couple of times to show me the progress in her hooking and she ws doing a fantastic job.  Ecstatic over the project and always thanked me for such a lovely pattern.

So you can imagine my surprise when I opened Rug hooking magazine and saw the rug featured as a winner in the show. It clearly stated that the woman designed the pattern.  I was confused wrought with dissappointment. Once again, passed over for the credit that should have been mine and loosing a perfect opportunity to show all of North America what I could do. Only two years in business, that kind of press could have opened doors for me and at the bare minimum provided a plug for my shop.   Now I know not all things are as they appear and there was a chance that this was an oversite of the magazine so I kept that in mind as I carefully worded an email to the woman.  I congratulated her on the win and then simply asked why she hadn’t listed me as the designer.

This all happened quite a few years ago but I will never forget the response and I actually still have a copy of her email which I came across it the otherday. I have never been so screamed at with written words. Big black words, bold with large fonts mixed with regular fonts, exclamation marks all over the place, hit after hit on my person, word after word of insult, several paragraphs long.  She came right out and called me a thief among other things.  She told me that it was her design, not mine and how dare I say otherwise. Her closing words, "if I wanted to steal the credit to go ahead if it makes me feel better!” It was abundantly clear that she valued me somewhere lower than a snake in the grass.    I read the email over and over, each time thinking I must be mistaken but each time I slumped lower in my seat, running a gammot of emotions that literally ended in tears. I was beaten down by words, crushed by the weight of them. They even caused me to question why I was in this business.  It sucked all the joy from my world and I'm not proud of it, but I settled into a dark place for a bit. No one wants anyone to hate them, its against our nature, but back then I hadn't formed my thick retail skin so my shields were down and she got in.

Well, it took a few days to recover from the attack and then a few more to prepare a response.
I would have phoned her but anticipated more of the same, although this time in my ear instead of my eye. In the note, I carefully outlined what copyright was all about. She brought an idea to me, no one was taking credit for that, but once I produced that drawing; the artwork belonged to me. I told her that I sold her a “copy”of the original drawing…the reason why she didn’t get the signed and dated artwork, only a burlap copy.  I also reminded her of our phone conversation all those many months before when I had explained what the copyright symbol had meant. I said I had emailed her to ask a simple question as to why she didn’t give me credit for the design and didn’t deserve the tirade that followed. Her words had wounded me. I thought I was doing her a favour to give her a design worthy of the show… a stick man and a box for a piano would not have cut it. After all these years I still have the design; I just never had the heart to put it out on the rack because every time I looked at it I felt ill, breathing life back into that distasteful memory unsettled my stomach.    Maybe writing this will change that; give me some closure. Maybe tomorrow I’ll dig out the drawing and think about it......

A few days later the woman replied with normal type but not exactly an apology. She just said she wished it hadn’t come to this and that she had forgotten our phone conversation about copyright.   Someone else must have enlightened her on the topic and you know what they say, if two people say it's a chicken the chances are good that it is. I’ve not heard from her since and up until then she had been a welcomed regular in my shop. Sticks and stones can break your bones but names will never hurt you is crapola.  Words can hurt, in the heart and the pocket book. I’ve lost business and I’ve since heard someone comment that I steal designs so I can only wonder who else might be avoiding me because of my evil, pattern stealing warts. The rug hooking community is small so things get around faster than Purolator, and the negative comments seem to go priority overnight.

Circle Of Angels

11/16/2012

This is a prime example why I'm in this business! When a customer buys one of my designs and sends me a picture of the finished rug that is this beautiful, I become choked with emotion. This has so far exceeded my vision for the design I misted up and sat here with my jaw on the floor!

In her words - "Your new site is wonderful. I am in awe of your mufti-faceted abilities !! I have just finished 'Circle of Angels', colors picked by Ontario teacher, Ingrid, from her stack of supplies. I hooked it for a friend and substituted her own face for one of the angel's faces. It's not done in my own color sense (mine would be much more traditional), but it was fun to hook and I know my friend will be thrilled.

It will be displayed at the Yarmouth Co. Museum in our annual Museum show of hooking.
Thanks for putting your heart and soul into our art. It makes me feel good that we old girls will be leaving our dearly loved craft in such good hands. Hope to get to your shop sometime in the near future." Mary Saunders Mehaffey

Hooked by Mary Mehaffey

Wool For "Likes" Draw!

11/15/2012

After writing down all the names of the people who gave my Encompassing Designs Facebook Business Page a "Like" I'll probably get carpal tunnel! A lot of names! Thanks to you all for participating.

So I put all the names in a container and my son Shane did the draw. Congratulations to Marlene Weaver! Contact me to arrange to pick up the wool or make your choice from the website and we will ship it to you!

Show & Tell

11/14/2012

I found this hooked version of one my designs named "Christmas Cardinals" through joining facebook. An apparent lover of these delightful red birds, Susan Smith hooked this piece and I was just delighted to stumble across it. I asked if she would mind if I put it on my blog. So here it is. Love the reds and use of plaid in the border! Very nice job on the cones...you can almost smell the pine! This pattern is listed under my Seasonal Designs and measures 31 1/2" x 25".

Pattern of the week! Hot off the Sue Cunningham press!

11/14/2012

When Sue gets her groove on she can pump out designs like a well greased machine! She took a break from her hooking to get these babies out and I didn't want to wait and offer them one at a time, so today is a real treat with four new patterns of the week! Remember the deal...if you order any of these designs while they are featured up until we post a new design, we pay the shipping!!!!

Chunky Dory
Size 13 1/2" x 21 1/2"
Burlap - $28.95
Linen - $39.08

This lovely new addition to the Sue Cunningham line of Women of Abundance will tickle everyone's fancy! Love this Sue!

Say Cheese (ies)
Size: 26" x 19"
Burlap - $34.95
Linen - 47.18

I mean, come on....this is a hoot! Sue has these wonderful Women of Abundance down to a science! Whether frolicking in the ocean or sunbathing on the sand these women have an abundance of personality!

Very Cheeky
Size: 28 1/2" x 21 1/2"
Burlap - $38.95
Linen - $52.58

Four friends sitting cheek to cheek on the sand, gazing out to sea.

Smitten
Size: 24" x22"
Burlap - $36.95
Linen - $49.88

For all you romantics and mermaid lovers this one's a head turner! A moonlight row on a calm sea with cupid working his magic.

Wine, Women & Wool

11/14/2012

Rug Hooking is not all about the actual hooking. There’s a social aspect, hanging out with friends for fellowship and inspiration fuses us together and keeps the train on the track. Without an audience we would be standing alone and where is the fun in that. Like the pineapple, the international symbol of welcome, we speak the international language of wool and it reaches the far corners of the earth! Every group that has ever met in the name of rug hooking is a community onto itself, a sisterhood, and of course we mustn’t forget the hooking brethren as well. Hooking is not a solitary craft although there are those who prefer standing on their own, but most of us are gathering seekers, finding like-minded people to share our passion.

The finished rug is not the end of an incredible journey, it's actually a beginning. During the process our reservoir is topped up with creative juices, fueling the next great masterpiece. From beginning to end each step is replenishing our cups so there is never a shortage of inspiration to carry forward.  In rug hooking there is no confusing what came first, the chicken or the egg? Each rug begins with a concept, an idea.Whether you have purchased a pattern or want to bring to fruition that idea rattling around in your head, the process begins with the design. If you can draw a straight line you can probably conjure up a piece of artwork, but if daunted over the
process, search on Google for resources and use them as a guide. Be careful to obey copyright laws, not only will your drawing be more special when it comes from within you, but you can delight in having a pattern that is uniquely one of a kind.

Once the drawing part is complete, then the colour plan steps up in line.  Colour can
be drawn from various sources, the area of the house the rug will be displayed, the colours you love the most, trying something completely opposite than the norm or freeing yourself by choosing colour with abandon, not caring where the rug will go but how it will stand on its own. Create a colour palette so people will bask in its glory, and be so inspired by its magnificence that they want to design an entire room around it.   And then of course, the world around can inspire a colour palette; who does colour better than Mother Nature?

The gathering of the wool, touching it, imagining how it will look hooked, selecting textures that will bring depth. Colour planning a rug is like preparing a baby’s layette. Remember after the baby shower, when you've washed everything in Ivory Snow and then play with the little clothes, the facecloths, the nighties and the ever-so-soft receiving blankets? You fold them in the drawer and then go back time after time to look at them, touch them, smell them. I’m kinda like that will wool, hopefully that doesn’t sound too crazy but really, sometimes I have thoughts of getting naked and rolling in the stash. Don’t know why but it pops into my head every now and then. We all know we can't control our thoughts but I can assure you they are only words meant to amuse, I’ve not acted on the urges. After surviving those horrible pleated wool skirts from grade school that were one step up from wearing sand paper, well what can I say? The softness of today’s wool is like bunny fur and inspires a few strange desires.

Around here wool comes from two sources. Frenchies is our local outlet for recycled wools and there are several rug hooking shops in the area that sell a rainbow of dyed wools and factory colours, solids and plaids. Most shops will colour match from paint chips so keep that in mind if you need a custom colour. Most rug hookers I know have a elephant sized stash allowing them the freedom to quickly colour plan but if something is needed there is always the dye pot or a friend to beg, borrow or steal from. Generally, most hookers like to have their rug planned out down to the whipping wool before they even pull their first loop while others not so much. Some start out with an idea and see where it takes them which is mostly my approach. I never like to be confined or pinned down to any particular colour, I like a bit of flexibility and that works with my women's prerogative, change my mind, go with the flow, hooking style.

Don’t wait to be hooking your new project to share with your peers. Each segment of the journey can be an excuse to gather with like-minded friends. To see your rug through another pair of
eyes can sometime take you on a very different journey and I’ll admit, it just fun to get together and talk about wool! Remember two heads are always better than one, three are even better and so on. Back in the days of all our renovations, I always used to say, make friends with a carpenter, an electrician and a plumber, covering all bases in an emergency. Well for a rug hooker my advice would be to sidle up to an artist for help with your drawings and someone with dye knowledge and the equipment, just in case you have a dye emergency! Not so long ago Mary, Sue and I got together for a bit of after hours fun and WWW. No not the wrestling thing, but Wine, Women and Wool. Mary was working on a pattern design and I’m helping Sue dye the colours for her latest commission. We had a blast that evening. Two parts inspiration, one part perspiration (it was a warm eveing), a bit of wine and a whole lot of fun.

A shared passion is a wonderful thing. Throwing ideas back and forth is not only stimulating but each thought leads to more thoughts until it takes on a life of its own; an entire world of creativity turning on its axis. I am lucky to have friends like that. Bursting with ideas and willing to share. Without them I would be stagnant in the water, with little desire to carry on. For me, sharing this passion with friends is what it is all about. When we get together it’s like being in a think tank, inspiring one another to greater and more fantastic designs. So many brilliant ideas transpire that we could never realize them all in our lifetime, but that's okay, sometimes the fantasy is better than the reality so we dream on. I couldn’t imagine not having all that resource, inspiration and support to tap into.

Monday

11/12/2012

Well, it's the day after the eleventh month, the eleventh day and the eleventh hour and although it's lovely and mild outside, the birds are chirping and the sun is trying to smile, I''m still in a bit of a funk over Remembrance day. I spent yesterday watching war documentaries and  getting little else done so I need to get to work and haul myself out of this pit of saddness.    Life does go on, it's apparent by all the hammering in the back yard.  I didn' t expect the builders here today but I suppose not everyone takes the day off.

My shop list is long with many to dos, and as soon as I fuel the jets I'll get out of here.  If only someone would make the coffee, cook my breakfast and have my shower for me, I would be eternally greatful.   I have my suspicians that the stork was tipsy and dropped me at the wrong address. Surely I was meant for England and the royal palace.   Sigh, of all the times to drink on the job!!! Well, I suppose it was so close to Christmas there were office parties involved. It's really difficult conforming to this place where I have to do everything for myself when it's abundantly clear I was meant for a silver spoon existance.

Well, sitting here moping isn't helping and my puppies are staring through me for the lamb chops I promised.  They think they live in a palace, they dine off of china, Blue Willow to be exact...blue china to match the blue blood.    At least someone around here is getting the royal treatment!

Lest We Forget!

11/11/2012

Larry Willoughby Veinotte
Born 1908 Mahone Bay - Died and buried in Sicily 1943
One of 116,000 Canadian soldiers that never came back home.

I’m not a star gazer for the rich and famous but I do know someone that most call a hero who I would like to tell you about on this day of Remembrance.  The person is my grandfather. I wasn't fortunate enough to know him, but genetically I am parts of him, and because of him I am alive.  There have never been any hugs or bedtime stories or sitting cuddled on his lap in the old family rocking chair, because war robbed me of those experiences. Although the war was necessary to free the world of a fascist regime, that doesn't mean it hurts any less. My grandfather died when my father was only seven, leaving a boy without a significant male role model and I firmly believe it was the largest contributing factor of my father growing up unhappy. The loss clouded the rest of his life with discontent, leaving a huge hole that nothing would ever fill.   War doesn't just take soldiers, it destroys families and robs the potential of what might have been.

This time of year brings reflection and sadness.   In some ways, I think everyone is touched by war but memories of WWI and II are fading quickly as history is pushed back even farther, and the veterans are passing on. For reasons I cannot explain, I am deeply touched by a virtual stranger, a figurehead in name only, my grandfather. Of course I’ve heard stories about him but they are only words, tales spun of a martyred man who died well before his time. I’ll never know the real person, the man who laughed and loved, made mistakes and cried. What I do know, the only tangible truth of his existence besides his progeny, hangs on my upstairs wall in the form of a photograph; a small, frozen moment of his life. Posed in his army uniform, he's dapper and handsome and I suppose I should be grateful for the portrait because there wouldn’t have been such a detailed likeness to treasure if not for the war....but it's not exactly a fair trade; taking away the real flesh and blood man to leave behind a mere facsimile.

For me, the most striking aspect of the photograph is his eyes. They look at me, though me and beyond. It is neither eerie nor comforting and I can’t find the words to describe exactly how I feel as I look at him, but there's a familiarity, a connection like a plug to an outlet. We simply belong, he and I, and if one can have a relationship with a piece of photographic paper, than we do. His portrait hangs in my upstairs hallway and those eyes greet me as I begin my day, seeming to speak to me as I emerge from my bedroom doorway.  Larry Willoughby Veinotte, born 1908, died in Sicily 1943, fighting in a war that took him from home and family, where he lies in a grave on foreign soil.

Out of work and without prospects, he signed up to fight as a means to support his family. A loving, selfless thing to do in depressed times with a wife and four children to clothe and feed.   He was older, in his mid-thirties, really too old to enlist but there are stories that he somehow lied to enlist. Statistically they say the older you are in combat the higher the risk of mortality. Age brings out compassion for your fellow man, a split second to stop and think, hesitation to pull the trigger when the enemy has a face. War is not a place for emotions, its every man for himself amidst the violence, chaos, and confusion.  War is hell, no two ways about it and as civilians, we can’t begin to understand the suffering of those who perished or those who live on with the memories of their dying comrades etched on their brains, the fear that burned inside them, the flashbacks and night sweats and sadness in their gut that eats their spirit from the inside out. I see the tears flow from aging eyes during televised memorial services. They are reliving the horror and the sadness, the loss of friends. The men of war made the ultimate sacrifice whether they died or came back to their loved ones. Surviving didn't mean total freedom as war stole their innocence and their youth and plagued them with horrific memories. We should never forget that their pain allowed others to exist in countries where you can awaken to the sound of bird’s singing instead of mortar fire and the mournful sounds of mother’s who lost their sons.

As the story goes, my grandfather died trying to save a buddy.   He crawled out of his fox hole to drag a friend to safety, a friend from his own hometown of  Mahone Bay. Unfortunately the soldier was already dead and my grandfather took a bullet in the process. He bled to death in a medic tent, but not before he wrote a letter to his wife, my grandmother. I’ve never seen the letter, only heard of its existence, and I don’t know if I would read it even if it hadn’t been lost many years ago. That would have been their private moment to own, not mine to intrude upon, but I do reflect on what words and thoughts one might relay if death was staring you in the face with only a few moments to say good bye to the ones you love.

So every year around this time I become melancholy and park myself on the sofa and watch war documentaries, searching the faces for a chanced glimpse of familiarity. As more and more footage is released and the world today allows for more graphic accounts of what war was really like, you see what weaponry can do to flesh and bone, and with black and white film being enhanced with colour, you are able to distinguish the mud from the blood.   I sit with tears in my eyes and horror in my heart unable to imagine what those men felt at the front of any battle.

Every November I put my grandfather’s picture in the window of my shop and a small note about his sacrifice, to breathe life into his fading memory for the people in town that might still know of his story and to educate those who don't. So much time has passed it might seem irrelevant to some, but not every part of him is gone.  I’m here and I want to preach from my soap box that Larry Willoughby Veinotte mattered. He was loved; a brother; a husband; a father; a living, breathing person....and then was taken away. Our entire family is collateral damage of that war, we can't even begin to know what we missed from not having him in our lives.   I watched my father destroy himself because he wasn't strong enough to stamp out the palpable sadness of his loss. So for me, it is difficult to celebrate this day of remembrance.   Lest We Forget? Personally I can't. If only I could.

Once again I return home from the Cenotaph under a cloak of sadness.  As the names of the fallen were called out and the wreaths accumulated at the base of the monument, I had tears in my eyes, hiding behind dark glasses so no one would see. It is so out of character for me to be that emotional but this gets me, right there in the heart. We haven't evolved or learned anything from past mistakes, war still exists and more fathers, husbands, sons and daughters are dying.  The fact that the human race can't get along angers me and I resent war and the collateral damage that results from it, but I guess that's my cross to bear.

How I got started!

11/10/2012

Leopard Spots Before My Eyes, the rug I cut my teeth on.

When I first started rug hooking I was as green as Kermit and ignorant of its rich, local history. Truthfully I’d never seen a homemade hooked rug before. My introduction to the craft came from watching my friend Mary pulling wool through what seemed like impossibly small holes. After being treated to a lovely meal, we would converge on the living room where Mary would haul out her hooking paraphernalia and we'd carry on chatting while I watched her work. To me, it looked like just another stupid craft and although I have nothing against crafts, I was just coming down from a very bad relationship with cross stitch and was a bit on the jaded side. Although the finished product was desirable, the work to get there wasn’t. By the time I got to the halfway point of anything significant, I was cross eyed and bored. I tried needlepoint, a Blue Willow tea cosy that is half completed and now buried in the back of a closet or trunk somewhere. Theoretically needle point should have gone a lot faster considering the wool was thicker than DMC floss and only required making half of the cross, but that was a yawner as well. My poor house was bare of handmade finery and I had to accept that I was going to be craft challenged.

My hubby worked in Africa for a few years and we accumulated a collection of hand carvings so I came up with the idea of an animal print/jungle themed bedroom. Back then, items with animal prints were expensive, few and far between and considered a bit risque. Nowadays you can find animal prints on just about anything, even baby clothe, and they no longer hold any sexual connotation.   All I wanted was a bed mat to keep my feet off the cold floor while I groped around for my slippers and of course, more important, a designer look to complete the room.   Doesn’t
that always trump comfort? I guess I grumbled a bit, or as Mary might recall, whined incessantly, so she offered a helpful solution to shut me up. The suggestion? To design and hook a rug.   Well, that was about the dumbest idea ever, no offense to Mary, and I rebuked it for quite some time but I finally warmed to the idea and found myself wandering around Frenchies in pursuit of the wool I would need. Sometimes I think my butt plays landlord to a permanent horseshoe.
Not only did the first shopping trip yield all the wool needed to do the rug, but the beige was a perfect match for the paint on the bedroom walls. Mary provided the cutting service, I
bought some burlap and a hook, sketched out the pattern, transferred it to the back and was off to the races. Not only was I going to get the rug I always wanted, I was going to hook it in record breaking time so I would never have to do it again! That was the plan…I was going to be a one rug wonder, say I had the T Shirt and move on. But, as you know, fate had other plans for me.

The night I pulled my first loop is a bit fuzzy so I’ll try to piece the events together to the best of my recollection. I distinctly recall settling into my favorite wing back chair sometime round 9:30 after all the dishes were washed and put away, the house was tidy and my favorite TV show was about to begin. I pulled the first loops, about a square inch worth and then things start to get lost. I do recall thinking I might be having fun, it seemed easy enough and progressed fairly quickly. I planned to go to bed many times but then I would say to myself, I’ll just do this little bit to see how it will look and then maybe this could be done. The work progressed so quickly I was driven to complete more and more, losing all concept of time in the process.   Maybe there was something more to this rug hooking than meets the eye?

I do recall hubby heading off to bed around midnight, asking if I planned to join him and my comment was yes, I'll be right there, but after that pretty much everything is a blur. I came out of a glorious funk when the sun peeked over the horizon, flooding the room with a pinkish
glow. My swollen eyes were red and tired, my horseshoe butt fused into the chair beneath a back that had seized like a rusty bolt. Only my arms and hands were functioning and they were sore as if I gone several rounds in the ring with a featherweight. Despite the aches and pains of sitting in one position for ten hours straight, the euphoria was amazing, the closest I’ve ever been to being high. (I missed the 70's and 80’s being married young and working on my domestic goddess so what did I know?)

So, I napped a bit during the day, while hubby held down the fort and then I hooked all night long for the next two nights in a row. That pace was feverishly wild and maybe that best describes my experience, but all good things in moderation, the passion I felt had to level out. Rug hooking opened a creative door; I embraced it with open arms and allowed it to take up permanent residency.   The experience was incredible. The possibilities this craft implied were mind boggling and to think I almost passed it by like a scraggly hitchhiker on the side of the road.

So thanks to you Mary for not giving up on me! I’m a hard nut to crack sometimes, it’s part of my charm. Not only did she give me a creative pastime but it led to an occupation as well. I
had suffered for years with environmental sickness and could no longer work in an office environment. The calling came and within a year I had a business in the front room of
my home, selling compass rose designs and the odd this and that. Like the weeds in my garden it grew bigger than I could have imagined and now I have a wonderful studio filled with items hookers drool over. So if you like me, when you next see Mary, give her a slap on the back and say “Good show!” If you don’t like me, well…be kind.

And how does one thank a person for changing the direction of their life? Hallmark doesn’t cover that sort of thing but we came up with a plan and set Mary up with Peter, this guy I knew from way back when, and they would later marry. Now we can’t take credit for the marriage, I think they put in the hours on that one, but sometimes all it takes is a small seed planted in the right soil.

So now I’m getting to the poignant part of this story. When my rug progressed to the point where it draped over the frame and rested on my legs, I was struck with a very powerful feeling that I had done this before. It had something to do with the weight of it and the warmth on my
knees. I knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I had hooked before, even though my intellect argued the contrary. The feeling came out of the blue, was gone in a flash but imprinted itself on my brain forever.

Many years later, we were cleaning out my great Aunt Hazel’s house after she had fallen, broken a hip and was now permanently residing in a nursing home. She had lived in the family home, my great grandmother’s house, her entire life and the dwelling was like a walk back in time.
Hazel was a hoarder, bless her cotton socks, just like the ones featured on TV, so nothing ever went out the door but plenty came in. Among the hundreds of boxes, wrapped in brown paper, then waxed paper and tied with string, I discovered three very old hooks fashioned from pieces of
cutlery, one hooked rug in very good repair and an unhooked burlap pattern. Thrilled with the discovery, I was holding the objects when the memory of that déjà vu moment came flooding
back. I was holding the same hooks handled by my great grandmother! That got me thinking.      If my great grandmother had been a rug hooker and we share the same DNA, why couldn’t that moment have been her experience, not mine? We are the sum of many parts. Our DNA is encoded with the characteristics of our ancestors, a plausible explanation for Déjà vu. Maybe I was just channeling a glimmer of her past that is ingrained deeply in the DNA of my cells. I read somewhere that scientists now believe that cells are imprinted with memories so why can’t they be passed from person to person through a bloodline? It makes me feel
special having a connection with an ancestor, someone who died long before I was
born. So no wonder I fell hook, line and sinker, head over heels in love with rug hooking, my great grandmother made me do it!

Hook-in and stuff!

11/8/2012

My new desk, that I've commonly referred to as “My Precious” has arrived and although it is patiently waiting for a coat of paint she is beautiful beyond words in her raw state. What a guy that Steve! He took my needs from a few words and scratched drawings to a reality that far surpassed my desire…my that sounds naughty, but really I couldn’t be more pleased with the outcome. The top lifts up to make into a drafting table for all those finicky designs that need proper perspective and when not in use, lies flat. It's going to get a lot of use, has already...a flat surface in this shop gets piled high, so before it gets painted I'll have to excavate through the bolts of new plaids that just came in and all the other stuff landing on its surface.

So now I have my counter and a fine one she is, so why haven’t I used it yet!? Well it’s been a busy week so far with no end in sight. It seems like one thing after another takes my time from what I want/plan to do, to what needs to be done and there is never any shortage of needs. Wants, needs, should be one of the same, and I can’t complain as work keeps the shop running like a well-greased wheel but I can never get caught up enough to stop the hyperventilating and just brreaatthheeeeeeeee.............

The new website has initiated an influx of business so we are out straight, even a client from Tokyo and one from New Zealand! A woman phoned in today from Truro who was urged by a friend in Alberta to check us out. She was so excited when she phoned in an order, discovering us in her own backyard was like finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Funny after almost 13 years in business people from Nova Scotia are still happening on us accidentally, either by walking past the building or having a friend from another province or country point us out.

We had another hook-in last evening and Glenna from Greenfield popped in. She’s working on a Christmas piece with sweet red mittens and completed two lickity split. She seems to be one of those speed hookers, might give Sue and me a run for our money. I’m still on the same Christmas stocking but life has been getting in the way although it will be finished by the end of November, just in time to hang the thing before Father Christmas Festival. Christmas, where is the time going?!

Mary was in this evening working on another designer Christmas stocking for her daughter-in-law, Christa. An underwater scene infused with ferns, shells and what is to be a red starfish, sounds festive and a future pattern for her collection. I’ll post pictures on the progress as I am sure it will be another Mary winner!

Proud Grandma with Stella's new heirloom, talk about being born with a silver spoon!!! Lucky little girl to have that beautiful rug and all the love that went into making every loop!!

Lorraine joined us this evening all aglow with grand news. Another baby in the family, Stella Lorraine, and proud grandma was putting the finishing touches on her baby gift. She hooked it along with the pregnancy, leaving only the date and name blank until the birth. Lorraine is the
best, delivering wonderful rugs along with the birth of her grand babies, what an heirloom to carry throughout their life. Lorraine is one of the good people, can’t find a darn thing bad to say about her, not that I’m looking; I’m just saying she’s special. Stella is a very lucky little girl to have a grandma like Lorraine and although she lives in California I’m sure there will be lots of visits back and forth and Skyping in-between.

I broached the subject about a hooker calendar for 2013. Between the raucous laughter there was one or two displays of flashing bras so I don’t think it’ll be a hard sell. Really, I didn’t need a preview but it was enlightening in that it reinforced the need for me to buy a few new bras…I’ve been putting it off and the support just isn’t there anymore.   The elastic parts gave up the ghost a few months back and I’ve not found the time to do an undergarment run. There is nothing I hate more than bra shopping. All that in and out of the change room. Clothes on, clothes off, gives one a glimpse of a prostitute’s day. It’s always so cold in those change rooms too! The shrinkage factor, the complete opposite of what happens to men, can affect the bra fitting properly!

A bra is a very personal thing, not to be taken lightly (as if size D’s could be taken lightly!) If I score a good fit I just buy four or five in various colours and I’m set for the next year or so.   The styles seem to come and go or I would just order the same one as last time but no, bra
hunting is like a man getting a body wax, painful! I’m not a big shopper anyway, usually run in get what I want and get out. I shop like a man and when I find something I like I just buy a lot of it. If you think I’m wearing the same pair of jeans every day you’d be wrong….I bought eight pairs. When I find something I like I get as much as possible. I liked the way these jeans make my legs look skinny and my butt small, well that’s my opinion, but the main reason for bulk buying is so I won’t be a slave to laundry. I’ve have 30 pairs of panties so I’m good to go in that department too and in extenuating circumstances, I could stretch out a few more days, turning them inside out provides a makeshift fresh start or go commando if need be. I understand that men do this sort of thing and hey it's a good idea, you do what to have to. Now that might be too much information and you’re probably moaning, Oh Christine, you’ve gone too far, but remember I'm a leg puller so it's up to you to decide if this is a Ripley’s or a Not!

Well on that note, I’m off to bed. Well, back to sleep. I came home from the hook-in and dozed on the sofa. I’ve not been sleeping so well lately but that couch seems to be the drug that knocks me out faster than a club on the head.    I'm notorious for falling asleep anywhere, at the drop of a hat, except of course in bed. Give me a chair, comfortable or otherwise and I’m snoring. Even the car, sitting in the passenger seat or while driving, (another story for another time), but get
horizontal on my mattress, where I’m supposed to relax and drift off to sleep, my brain fires up like a chainsaw and I’m buzzing away as if I’m jacked up on cocaine. So thanks for the sofa, I had a wonderful, unbroken five hours of sleep, probably as much as I can expect at this menopausal/post-menopausal (I don’'t know where the heck I am) point in my life. I awoke around 4:30 am with lights on, shivering to a cooling house, got up to stock the wood stove and was drawn to the computer like a moth to a flame. I’ll admit, I’m addicted to checking my email, but that dependency never killed anyone, and the next thing a blank page is staring me in the face and I’m writing tomorrow’s blog.   You know, that is the one thing I like most about being me. No set anything. I beat to a different drum in that there’s never any set schedule. I do what I want, when I want. Life is good that way, nothing ordinary in my extraordinary, never a dull moment, life.

Mona Lisa Christmas Stocking by Mary Doig

11/7/2012

The Mona Lisa on a Christmas stocking??

That’s what they said at Rug School. But I did it anyway.

In my quest to make a stocking for each of my family members, I gave everyone a paper cutout of the life size stocking and told them to draw what they wanted on it. And then nobody got back to me. So I decided to make my own stocking. I’ve always loved the Mona Lisa, and have visited her twice at the Louvre. She is much smaller than you would think, so it is not such a great leap that she would fit nicely on my stocking. I like to think that Leonardo would be okay with it.

I found Mona’s picture on the internet and had our local print shop blow it up several sizes on regular paper so I could find the one that fit my stocking outline the best. I drew around the main contours on the paper with Sharpie marker and when I flipped the paper over, there was my pattern, in reverse. I copied it with red dot, reversed it and copied it to the stocking template. Voila. A pattern. With Mona facing the right way. I had a bit of an empty space at the toe, where I put in our shared initial M, in a Renaissance font.

The next challenge was the dyeing. This is my favourite part of hooking. I did six to eight value swatches of my own variations on antique bronze, blue green, sandy yellow, and antique red. I overdyed recycled grey with the bronze and red, and the rest was new Dorr wool. I wanted to make the closest match I could to the rich tones in the original artwork.

I was fortunate enough to be accepted into Michele Micarelli’s Portraits class at Nova Scotia Rug Hooking Guild’s Truro rug school. She is a very entertaining and informative teacher and I hope I get a chance to take her class again. She helped tremendously with Mona’s face – the tip that I will remember if I do another portrait, is that you can shade the face with darker values of other colours in the rug, rather than a darker shade of flesh tone. It worked really well for Mona, to have her lighter facial tones in cream and light olive, and then the shadows in medium bronze. I never would have thought of that without Michele. I was also flummoxed about the background – thinking that the scenery behind her might be too much detail for a stocking, so thought I would take it out altogether and make the background all dark red. When I asked Michele’s opinion, she said “don’t you think she’d be happier in her home?” She was right.

We had a wonderful class. On our show and tell night, one of the other students brought in a giant cardboard poster of Mona, with her eyes and hands cut out. So we took turns sitting behind it, watching through the eyeholes and with hands crossed on our laps through the handholes, startling onlookers as they walked by. Too much fun!

Guest Blogger Mary Doig

Homestead by Mary Doig

11/6/2012

“Homestead”is a picture in time for me – it is the first house that my husband and I bought together, located in Conquerall Bank, Lunenburg County, Nova Scotia. It was also the first time I lived in the country, and I loved it there.

We overlooked the LaHave River – the sailboat is Peter’s dream boat (which he has since designed and built) and the mahogany powerboat is another dream of his (as yet unrealized). There were all kinds of animals who coexisted with us – the raccoon on the garbage can, the mallards in the yard, a snake who lived under the workshop (named after a certain boss), a wild cat we named Buster peeking out of the wildflowers, and deer in the woods. Sneazel the weasel is hiding in the forest – he didn’t show up until after the rug was hooked! I wanted another mallard in the river, which Peter drew for me, along with the ducklings behind her. He added the one at the end lagging behind in the border, who represents how he sometimes works outside the lines.

Our yellow lawn chairs are in the backyard, beside the firepit, and a bottle of wine within easy reach. I questioned my drawing skills when my friend Nancy looked at chairs and said “I have to ask…what are the turkey bums for?” Someone else asked me why there was a tongue in the woods– it’s not a tongue – it’s a pink hammock! And in retrospect, the grey well cover is crazy huge, but so was the main well – a work of art you could appreciate better if you had the courage to go down it – all hand laid stones.

This rug was hooked entirely with leftover pieces of wool – my goal was not to do any dyeing or buy any more wool, and most importanty, try to use up my scraps. As if. Do we ever use up our scraps?? A few pieces were from talented ladies that I admired greatly, who are no longer with us. The chairs (not turkey bums) were a yellow from Muriel Peveril, and the soft, mossy green with a tinge of rust for the grass is Dorothy Haight’s formula OR32, from Lois Sweeny. At the time I was working on the rug I was reading Jane Halliwell Green’s first book on pictorials, and found it really helpful for the water, trees, grass and sky. I have since had the opportunity to take two classes with her – she’s a wonderful teacher.

It took a couple of years to make the rug, because I didn’t work at it all the time. But I enjoyed the time I did, and am happy to have it as a reminder of a wonderful home in a place we loved.

Guest Blogger - Mary Doig

Pattern of the week!

11/5/2012

"Angel" - A small name for such a regal pattern. I was commissioned to draw and paint these angels for a Christmas concert at a local church so many moons ago I can't remember when....maybe my early twenties. There were two angels, both painted on 4' x 8' sheets of Masonite that framed the top corners of the stage. Sadly, the angels are long gone but I kept the brochure as a keepsake. It was the first time I did mural sized anything and truthfully, it was way over my head, but they turned out remarkably well, and became a very proud, artistic moment for me. I thought the angel would make a lovely rug hooking pattern. For those of you who appreciate a lot of fine detail this would definitely be worth the challenge. Unique, scroll style borders really frame this trumpeting angel in all her majesty. 48" x 30 1/2"

Pattern of the week comes with a special deal. If you order the pattern during the week that
it's listed, shipping is free!

Art Under Foot Gallery Show

11/5/2012

This was the piece we were lucky enough to score for our gallery showing "Art Under Foot"

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