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Look down when in town.........

11/28/2014

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Diamondbacks Are a Girl's Best Friend
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Spurry Christmas
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Do-Si-Do
When one starts the day with dog poop tracked all over the shop and horrified to see that someone  scraped the bottom of their shit saturated shoe on the edge of the outside step, where do you go from there?  I’ll tell you where you go, UP!  When it starts out that badly there is no place to go but UP!

 Really crap in the shop is about as low as it can get.   Crap sticks like glue to the carpets  and comes with a stench that can bend steel.    To the person who didn’t pick up after their pooch at 498 Main Street this morning, thanks a lot!  Your dog must be mortified to have you as their  pack leader.  I’ve seen it before.  The walker knows when the dog wants to stop and squat,  so they drag the poor pooch, pretending they don’t see what’s coming out the back end so they don’t have to scoop it off the sidewalk.  It’s lovely having your customers curl up their nose……as one said, “yes, there’s a hum in here”.   Not exactly the memory we hope to germinate for the studio. 

Poor Shane.  It does a mother proud to know her boy doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.  I always say, winners do jobs that losers won’t do!   My winner son, cleaned it all up, with nary a complaint although if truth be told, there were people in the shop or there might have been some blue air coming out of both of us.  It friggin pisses me off that people don't clean up after their pups on the main street so it gets tracked into the shops.  I’m not upset with the poor dog, just the master, although master implies a higher standing, maybe it should be the other M word, moron. 

Shane threw bucket after bucket of hot water on the hunks to flush it off the sidewalk into the street where a tire or two won’t mind as much as a shoe, having it smashed up into the tread.  He found a plastic spackle device in the shop tool box to scrape it off the step.  The front door mat is still out on the back deck drying from washing off the two embedded poop prints.  There was so much poop it’s a wonder the person who accidentally stepped in it didn’t go for a slip and slide and broke a hip on the sidewalk.   Personally, for that reason alone,  I keep my head down when out for a walk, and although I’m not Scottish, you never know when you’ll find a coin! 

Anyway, what started out a crappy day turned into a productive one.  I pounded out three new Christmas Stocking patterns and Shane made up dozens of Christmas bundles that I will take a photo of tomorrow when they are all tied up with candy canes and ready to roll out the door! 


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I'm starting to get into the holiday spirit with the Christmas tunes playing and the sparkling lights in the window so after this morning's fiasco, I thought maybe the dog walkers who ware leaving the turds on the sidewalk could get into the spirit and dress them up for the Father Christmas Festival, be kind so the people out for walks, visiting our town and perusing the shops, will see and avoid them.........
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Father Christmas Festival starts tomorrow!

11/27/2014

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My heart does not yet belong to Christmas.  It’s too soon.  I've done the decorating for the shop but there wasn't any excitement in it.  It seems wrong in November, if this was December I'd be ready to take it all on. The town looks sparkly, decked out for the Father Christmas Festival this weekend and next but it leaves me flat.  I question whether a bit of lunch would help, maybe I'm suffering from low blood sugar because I have about as much enthusiam as the Grinch. Everywhere you look there are lights, sparkling like thousands of diamonds, usually the perfect medicine to cheer this crow up.  The town will come alive Saturday, crawling with carolers and Father Christmas out for a stroll, horse wagon rides and people mulling about.  Maybe I’ll perk up once I see the smiling faces come through the door.  Maybe the smell of apple cider will help jog the feelings forward…..hopefully…

I’m still hooking Santas and yet I’m not inspired by the holidays, not feeling it just yet.  I’m basically hooking for the sake of hooking, going through the motions, the subject is irrelevant.   I made two more of the cone Santa’s last evening but left them home and there is one more on the backing so I’ll complete him tonight.  What the heck, I might as well keep going and do three more so I have a gaggle of them sitting in a row on top of a cabinet in the shop.  

Today, in hopes to feel a bit of holiday cheer, I made a trip into Seaside Flower’s in Lunenburg and bought a bunch of Christmas decorations for the staircase at home.  Our annual Christmas party for the hook-in gals is December 3rd and I might not be able to find a tree so at least there will be a bit of festive flavour in the house.   I had a drive around to the various tree places and there were none out so unless they start selling them this weekend the chances are nonexistent for a tree to be up and decorated.   Seaside Flowers is the greatest store, filled with holiday treasures; I left a few things behind for everyone else!  Check them out  if you get to Lunenburg or online to see their beautiful festive arrangements 
http://www.lunenburgflowers.com/lunenburg-florist/christmas-flowers-3389c.asp?topnav=LeftNav

I'm making an extra effort in the decorating department at home.  We are getting company this year for the holidays. My brother and sister-in-law are spending Christmas with us.  It should be fun having guests, someone else to cook for and maybe play some games.  Last year it was so quiet it felt off.  Shane had Christmas Dinner with his girlfriend’s parents so we cooked our turkey on boxing day and it wasn’t the same.  Yup, this year ought to be a lot more exciting than last, when we acted like two old, lonely fogies pulling a marathon of taped shows with our TV trays on our laps......   

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Last year I bought a roll of burlap and the frame to make this wreath but never got around to it.  Today I found it packed away in the garage with the rest of the Christmas stuff so figured it was time.  I made it halfheartedly but it turned out okay so I stuck it up. 

All I want to do is say "Ba humbug"  Maybe I need a Christmas kick in the arse if anyone would like to volunteer to help put me in a festive mood.   Maybe playing some Christmas tunes tomorrow.....there ain't nothin like a little Holiday Elvis.....
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Cutting it up at the hook-in........

11/26/2014

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If tree limbs were hookers, today's hook-in would have resembled a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree.   Patsy and Heather were the only keeners, and Sue meandered in later with a bag full of cutters.   Small groups are intimate and cosy but for a hook-in you'd like to see a bit more attendance.  Come on gals, join our daytime hook-in! 

I stayed up until midnight last evening to try to get the third Santa hooked but just couldn't make it with a later start than planned.  There is nothing worse than having to pack it in when you are so close to the finish line.  It's difficult to pull your brain away from completing it but, I  was so dog tired I started seeing double and knew I'd be useless today without a decent enough sleep. 

Funny, as soon as I crawled into bed, there wasn't an ounce of sleep in me and my brain remained active until the wee hours of the morning at which time I got fed up and turned on the light to read my book that Sue found at Value Village,  Dissecting Death written by a seasoned pathologist that features very interesting case studies of murder victims and finding their killers.  A bit of light reading for sure and I learned a lot of interesting tidbits that are useful to my writing.  Don't worry I won't get graphic and scare you off with the details, but it is fascinating stuff if you don't mind dead bodies!

At the hook-in I managed to finish the third Santa but didn't get them sewn into cones or hooked their beards because I need to steam them first.  I'm thinking maybe I'll hook a few more to dress up the shop for Christmas.  These hook-up really quickly and make great gifts or tree toppers.   We sell the patterns as singles or you can get three of various sizes on one piece of linen. 

So Sue dropped by with a bunch of cutting machines that she hopes to sell.  One Rigby and three Fraser 500 machines and a bunch of blades. There is nothing wrong with them, they've been replaced by a Bolivar.  All are in good working order.  If you are interested in inquiring about these machines email Sue at  sue.cunningham@xplornet.com for pricing, etc. 

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Head Lamp saves the evening!

11/25/2014

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The power going out in Mahone Bay happens as frequently as winning the lottery.  Actually, maybe there are better odds on winning than being left in the dark.  How is that for praise of our town?  We have a fantastic history of few power outages and if they do occur it’s doesn’t last long as the team hits the road to fix the problem immediately.  So I must say I was very surprised to find myself sitting in the dark last evening, especially when I was trying to hook, had just pulled about a dozen loops and then couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.   When one wants to hook, one wants to hook and I will admit I was thoroughly annoyed.   

Usually if the power bombs it’s due to a storm but although the wind was blowing it wasn’t anything to worry about as far as securing the composter or checking the BBQ on the back deck. I don't think it was an accident, I didn't hear any sirens or ambulance whip by the house. Maybe it was scheduled,  I don’t read the flyers but usually those planned outages occur in the middle of the night when most folks are fast asleep.  I phoned Shane who lives in the center of town and he had power so the trouble was on the grid on my end.  Thoughts of hopping in the car and going to the shop were considered but it was raining pretty heavily and with my luck, I’d arrive at the shop as the power came back on, which I wouldn’t know about because I wouldn't be home.       

There isn’t much to do in the dark, especially when there is no one to snuggle with.  I lit a few candles and wondered if there would be enough light to hook by but the amber glow didn’t cut it unless it was very close and who wants flickering flames close to my wool or my hair....it’s hard enough to keep it on my head without singeing the crap out of it!   And that’s when I thought of the Lee Valley gadget I'd given hubby a few Christmases back.  A neat head lamp which hubby uses out in the yard to pile firewood when the light gives way to darkness.  As I dug around in the drawer, I prayed the batteries were good as it hadn’t been used for some time.  They weren’t at one hundred percent power but cast enough light so I could resume hooking.  The electricity was out close to two hours and that was all the time needed to hook my little cone Santa.  Generally, I’m a fast hooker, but really, except for the face in a #5 cut, everything else was a #8 so it almost hooked itself.  I’m making a bunch of kits for the Father Christmas Festival and the samples all sold last year save for the one I gave to Mrs. Claus when she and Santa visited this summer.  Kits always sell better when there’s a visual aid so I thought I would whip up three, a red, a green and a blue one.  I finished the last loop about five minutes before the power came back on so I was able to steam press it to take to the shop tomorrow to cut out.   Tonight I hope to do the other two and then hand sew them into cones at tomorrow at the hook-in.

So note to self.  Buy batteries for the next emergency.  All you hooking gals, ask Santa to stuff one of these fabulous lights in your Christmas stocking.  It’s a must have and should be part of your survival kit.  RayVac makes the head lamp that comes with a stretchy headband to hold it in place. I highly recommend one for power outages; it’s perfect for crafts or reading.  It is much safer than burning candles and is hands free so you can move around the house without bumping into things and find your way up and downstairs easily without dragging the candelabra with you like something out of a Frankenstein movie.   It sure was a gem and beats twiddling your thumbs.    

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Plaids are scrumptious to work with.  I over dyed this green plaid slightly to dull down the white lines running through it.  They still show but don't drag your eye to them. 
3 Comments

Sunday's Beginner Class at the studio

11/24/2014

5 Comments

 
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Sunday was a day of learning.  I had a room full of enthusiastic students, all really nice women.  I love to teach and always feel good at the end of the day.   The hours seem to melt away.  Not one clock in the shop is functional, they all gave up the battery ghost at once.  If not for someone checking their watch we might all still be there! 

I always wonder which students I will see again, hoping they will finish their projects and come in for a critique or finishing instructions.  Not everyone falls into the upward spiral of addiction right away, sometimes they have to use for a bit and see how it fits.  I've seen all kinds of reactions, some come in with a fever and plough through the beginner project and speak of the second rug idea dancing around in their heads.   Some are in it for the T shirt, something to cross off the craft bucket list.   All these gals were spendid so I hope to see them all again!   
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Another fabulous hook-in and absentee birthday girl....

11/21/2014

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Wednesdays are always the best days at the studio.  Lots of laughter and eye candy to drool over, its a wonder we don't all have cavities!   Above Patsy is getting ready for Christmas.  Below Anne is holding her prize of a 3 Pack of Dorr Natural for winning the Pattern of the Month Club for August.   To the right Anne is holding up Alice, there isn't much left to hook for the inside medallion and then to the border! 
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Below Shelley has started hooking our new design called "Mummers".  She came into the studio a few Saturdays back and saw it on the drawing table in being sketched.  She was thrilled and then showed me pictures of a mummer's night they held last year and then played the Mummer's Song on her IPhone.   She ordered a pattern right then and there.   You can already tell it's going to be a fun, wow piece. 
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Jen is working on this beautiful design by Leonard Feenan and is hooking it with all kinds of iridescent mediums.   You can see more detail by clicking on the pictures to enlarge them.
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Lorraine is sailing right along on her Blue Rocks piece. 
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Linda is hooking another Sam the dog and Pam is now on her water for her Koi. 
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Sandy has finished whipping the Hummingbirds Tree-O with red yarn and brought in a pin cushion to show and tell.  Below is another piece she hooked while still living in Ontario. 
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Heather is showing her wide cut geometric that is full of beautiful velour wool.  It shimmers but unfortunately, the camera doesn't tell that tale.  To the right this rug is classy plus.  A colour palette of three, consisting of navy, gold and ivory makes for a very elegant rug.   Heather and Patsy below were pictures taken from a previous hook-in.
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Patsy with another of her Christmas pieces.
Mary told me she would be coming to the hook-in so I bought her a chocolate ganache cake to celebrate her birthday that was the following day. We waited, but she was a no show so we decided to light the candles and sing anyway.  There was cake and we have mouths, not a difficult choice. Lorraine shot this video with her phone.   Linda Ruth blew out the candles. 

No one had a match so Charlene saved the day by going to the dye kitchen downstairs and lit a wick on the burner and then walked it back up the stairs not losing the flame.  We risked burning down the place for you Mary so where the heck were ya?

3 Comments

Hooked rug display in Newfoundland

11/20/2014

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By Guest Blogger Charlene Scott
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I was in Newfoundland last week and managed to get a look at a fabulous rug exhibit.   It was called the Hooked Rug Display of Newfoundland Stamps 1857-1949.  The exhibit was done by the Rug Hooking Guild of Newfoundland and Labrador.

The next place for the exhibit will be the Gander Arts and Culture Centre Dec. 2-31, 2014.

Further information on the exhibit can be obtained through Diana Dove mddove@belliant.net or Marilyn Moore moorem@belliant.net.  Their names were on the brochure available at the exhibit.

The stamp rugs were fabulous and reminded me of the collection of NL stamps I have in my old stamp book somewhere in the attic.  My father was from St. John's and we received many stamps from grandmother while growing up and had a great collection from the island.  Most of the exhibit stamps were very familiar to me.

I thought you would enjoy them as well.

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Larry, The Cleaning Guy......

11/19/2014

1 Comment

 
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You don’t really notice how fast time flies until you have a regular schedule of appointments. Since I met “Larry the Cleaning Guy”, every second Wednesday seems to roll up faster than a taxi at the airport.   I have to keep an eye on the calendar, the day before he arrives I have to do the pickup of dog toys, clothes, and whatever didn’t get put away in that two week window of not having anyone witness my slacking off.   And dishes, yes, I try to do them on a regular basis now, not waiting until I run out of clean ones.  I've been on my hands and knees collecting all  those pieces of hooking wool, worms and cut ends that fall to the carpet and get tracked around and clog up the beater bar.  I have to do regular laundry now so he can get in that room to vacuum, I may not be cleaning but I'm working hard to keep it all in shape so Larry can do his shtick.   

I have my pride and I don’t want Larry to think I’m a slob or spoiled or don’t appreciate this lovely home.  When he leaves my house it glows, sparkles, shines and that suits this crow to a T so I feel obliged to keep up the pretense that everything has been maintained in his absence.  The thought has not been lost on me that considering I’ve proven I can live in chaos and squalor for months at a time, basically Larry is cleaning the house for Larry; he’s the only one that ever comes over!  

I like being on a schedule of knowing when to neaten up and I hope, over time, it becomes second nature training.  Truthfully I could handle it more often, maybe once a week, then I’d be more controlled and put things away immediately instead of waiting for the night before cleaning day but then again I wonder, how spick-and-span does a house have to be?   If I was a ladder climbing socialite or one of those folks that has a constant flow of people through their home, maybe I’d bend over and pick things up, sweep a bit of dirt under a rug, put on a good show, but I’m lucky to see anyone during the month, or is that unlucky? The only upcoming soiree is December 3rd for our annual Christmas Potluck, which conveniently happens to fall on a day that Larry makes his house call.  He’ll be heading out the door when the guests start to arrive and everything will be sparkly.   All I have to do is play the host, prepare snacks and a dessert and greet everyone with a smile.   

He sure makes life easy.  Before Larry or “BC” (before cleaning), I would have worked for days, possibly a week cleaning this place, whipping it into a condition worth showing, but now I can relax and enjoy the occasion instead of being near catatonic by the time the function arrives. Maybe I’ll have the time to put in an early Christmas tree.  A Christmas party without a decorated tree seems bah humbuggy.   In the past, relaxed entertaining has been a foreign concept and I’m a front runner for the position of Stress Queen.  Maybe I’ll learn to let down what’s left of my hair and enjoy myself for a change......  

I would like to mention how Mother Nature has made me out to be a bit of a jump-the-gun liar. Winter came and then it went.  After last weeks snow, Tuesday was shirt sleeve weather, the jacket I wore to take the dogs out in the morning was too warm and I had to strip down to my pajama top or sweat off a pound waiting for them to all find the best spot to squat.  How crazy is this?  Gone are the days of predictable weather and a gradual evolution from one season to another.  I remember the days when you slowly look off the winter garb and stripped down to shorts and a tank top and then slowly put on more clothing, put away the sandals and added socks, then a thin sweater or shell until the snowsuit was taken out of moth balls.  Not any more, it’s a roll of the dice every morning and if you don’t pay attention to the weather channel you can get caught with the wrong attire.  One day a winter jacket, the next shirt sleeves and you wish you could take off the wool socks that are suffocating your feet.  The days of gradual change are over, it would be as foreign to the kids today as knowing who Elvis is. 

Good lord, winter's back again.....I just took the pups out for their bedtime pee and it was snowing!  Huge flakes floating to the earth like giant dandruff from the sky. Everything was carpeted white and glistening in the porch light.  Then I peeked out a half hour later and there wasn’t a crystal left, gone, melted. Then this morning the world was white again.  The weather is as fickle as a teenage girl, full of drama and sass. 

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I'm behind in posting hook-in pictures!

11/18/2014

4 Comments

 
These are pictures from the last evening hook-in from the first Wednesday of November.  A good turnout with lots of eye candy and gab.  Tomorrow is another evening hook-in, why don't you drop by and join us?!
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Linda Ruth's dog pillow with a clever use of a wool shirt placket for the back, complete with pockets for storage and easy access to the pillow!   This was a piece of art created by her grand daughter...a sweet memory captured in wool.  Children are the best artists! 
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Shelley progressing  on her gals started in the Michele Micarelli workshop.  Hats off to you for doing such a great job! 
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Armenia starting on another Crocks & Jugs rug and sharing a fun moment with Aunt Audrey. 
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Ginny working on the inside background.
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Pam's Koi looking fabulous! 
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Audrey is coming close to the finish line, only a few more squares to go on the border!
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Patsy's whimsical coastline piece.  Sweet!
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Does this rug scream "Happiness Is" or what? 
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Linda Ruth holding the inspiration for the pillow. 
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Barb and her collage of fun family moments.
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Lorraine working on Blue Rocks. 
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Armenia's Crocks & Jugs, she loved it so much she's hooking it again!
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Lorraine's sister....I'm terrible with names....hooking Changes. 
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Patsy whipping up some coasters.
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Pam's "Setting Stones" progress.  The Koi has taken front seat for a bit. 
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Charlene taking a break from hooking to cuddle the cutest guy there!  
4 Comments

What the?  Winter???????????????

11/17/2014

8 Comments

 
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This picture was taken November 14th at Martock!  Get out your skis! 
Well, it has come.  Friend or foe winter is back!   Last week it came in like a lion, bared its teeth and devoured what was left of fall.  Snow this early in November must be causing a bit of gleeful hand rubbing for the snow plough operators.   After last year’s record accumulation we were all hoping for a break this year but starting this early, I won’t bet on it.  The other day I watched snowflakes flutter to the ground and cars from outside of the bay area were driving by with inches of white on their roof and I thought, hey, where am I? I’ve already had to scrape the windows of the car.  Last week I held out my hand to catch hail crystals as they pelted the back deck.  The evidence is in, there’s no denying it.  Ready or not, winter is upon us.   

After last year’s epiphany, I learned the best way to handle winter was to accept it.  Whining about heavier coats, gloves and boots only serves to make the season uncomfortable.  My new mantra is to “embrace the cold”, dress for it properly so the bite is less painful.   Nothing you can do will stop or slow it down, avoidance is the only escape by way of airline tickets to a sunny, tropical climate.  I can’t help but think, how boring to live in a sun drenched climate, with its nonstop tropical flavour, serving the same dish day in and day out with only the occasional storm to shake things up.   It must be truly awful.....

Being a conformed whiner, you can take my word that if you dress properly, cold isn’t that bad.  Just to be clear, I am referring to Nova Scotia cold, not anything further north, this chick will never live in a climate that is cold enough to sustain an igloo.  I can be accepting of a reasonable chill in the air but no dipping past -7.   I have my limitations.  Anything lower is a day to stay home snuggled in front of the fire to contemplate a move.   

 Last year I finally got it, after decades of hating winter, I finally accepted its gifts and was happy to be here to experience it.  As we get older and there is more sand at the bottom of the hour glass than the top, we learn to appreciate every minute of every day.    Besides, if you step back and forget about the cold, winter is actually one of the most beautiful seasons, filled with the art of Jack Frost and Currier & Ives paintings beyond our window panes to take our breath away.   We are certainly torn between the beauty and the beast of winter and know, it is a season to be respected. 

Last week there was a lot of ambulance and fire truck activity, no doubt rushing to the first accidents on slippery roads.  I hope no one was seriously hurt!  Probably not many winter tires on this time of year but I’ll bet this coming week will see a lot of appointments for the changeover.  A friend drove home from PEI and said there were 10 cars off the road and it was a harrowing ride for her.  Play it smart and drive to the conditions so if you go into a slide, only the car will be bumped, a very fixable problem, don’t be foolhardy and ruin the upcoming holidays for the people who love you.   No place is so important that you need to take risks, slow down and play it smart, play it safe for all concerned on the highways. 

Then came Sunday, a day almost surreal compared to the frigid cold and snow of last week.   I took the pups outside to play ball on the lawn.  It was crisp but not biting.   My cheeks felt alive, happy and pink, a natural blush.  It was truly invigorating.  It was almost cold enough to wear gloves, my fingertips felt the nibble of the cool air and when I came inside, they were red and heated up like a furnace as the blood rushed in.  Happy and exhausted, the pups curled up for a nap around my feet, all tuckered from playing in the fresh air.  Happiness for them is a little blue ball and a cuddle.  Life doesn’t get simpler than that!

I got up this morning to mild, almost spring like temperatures, probably normal for this time of year if winter hadn’t bumped itself to steal the end of fall.  The weather is nothing short of schizophrenic, one minute we’re worried about the driving hazards and then it feels like time to rake a few leaves and wash the car.    Mother Nature’s baby sister is Global Warming and she’s a bitch.  She’s pretty annoyed how we’ve polluted the planet and mistreated her older sibling so she’s out for a bit of revenge, so hang on, it could be a very bumpy winter!    

I’ve been cutting kits for days which reminded me of the tip I posted last year.  Now with artificial heat turned on, the air is dry and charged with static electricity.  Cutting wool under these conditions can be trying as a static charge makes the wool stick to the metal, continually feeding in on the cylinder.  Also, drying wool in a machine will build up a static charge and trying to cut it fresh out of the dryer is impossible, you’ll spend more time pulling it off the blade than actually cutting. 

Cutting Tip!!!

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When you are cutting wool with a machine, sometimes the strips stick to the blade and rolls under the wheel and before you know what has happened you cut it in half.  You try to dig it out and maybe back up a bit to retrieve it, but it keeps happening over and over and you get a bit flustered.  All you want to do is cut fast and get hooking! 

Sometimes you try blowing with hot, moist breath and it works to a degree, but the static keeps coming back.  Cutting takes forever!  Dry winter days are the worst and if you've just pulled your wool out of the dryer cutting it is almost impossible.  Frustrating?  Tell me about it!  I cut more wool than most and let me tell you, it's aggravating!   And then after the wool is cut it keeps sticking to your hands as you try to lay it out flat on the table to tie into a bundle.  Yup...we've all been there and will be again, time after time.  Oh joy!  If only someone could invent a way to stop the madness!!  

The answer is so simple you'll kick yourself for not thinking of it first.  Before you start to cut, get out a bottle of hand cream and add the teensiest bit to the hand that holds the wool.  Rub it in well over the underside of the fingers...the palm doesn't matter.  I guarantee, the wool will feed straight through, no static, no charge!   So grease up and do some cutting!
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A winner......of an eye candy day!!!

11/14/2014

0 Comments

 
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Anne Holmes!!!
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You voted and Anne Holmes is the winner for the Pattern of the Month for August!   Come on down Anne and claim your prize of a 3 Pack of Dorr Natural Wool!   Congratulations!!! 
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An now for some pictures of past hook-ins.  Sue Cunningham is on the end stretch of our new design, 5 Starr Runner.  Gorgeous!  Below, Sue cast her own work aside to hook on Annette's rug, time for a nappy? 
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Teresa working on the border of her Oriental.
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Patsy working on a whimsical seascape.
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A couple of Initially Yours fans, Marguerite with the letter Z for Zinck and Armenia Corkum working on G for a gift. 
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Sandy Bruce whipping Hummingbird Tree-O with red yarn.  Nice framing of the border with the red line inside. 
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Karen Crocker is a long term friend of mine who pops in every time she is visiting from Calgary.  She's very artistic and tries many different mediums to express her creative side.  She's a hooker for sure, but is dabbling right now with a bit of embroidery, replacing the lost stitching in her grandmother, Hazel Beatrice Joudrey's well worn, fragile cotton quilt, that was made as a young woman, before she was ever married to her lifetime partner, Bryce Andrews. 

Karen took the quilt apart and is following the still visible holes to replace the floss that has disintegrated or fallen out and then will reassemble the quilt.  A very tedious, labour of love but Karen is the gal for that with patience and nimble fingers. 

Karen, always thinking, contracted a company to weave cotton, Nova Scotia Tartan dish towels which I hope to have for sale in my shop next year.  I definitely will hang one in my house, anything blue catches my eye, especially Nova Scotia tartan. My dog's all have NS tartan collars.   Note the bit of tartan at the bottom of the blog..... 

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Remembrance Day.....

11/11/2014

5 Comments

 
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When I got up this morning I was amazed at the calmness outdoors.  There was no movement in the air, not a leaf was fluttering, and the jacket I’d donned was too warm so I shed it as the pups sniffed around the yard.   Not the typical Remembrance Day weather, usually grey and raining or snowy and frigid.   Today was like a spring morn, bringing with it the promise of better things to come and somehow it seemed wrong, this is a day when we should endure dismal conditions, it seems unfair to have it so good, to not grab at our collars to ward off the penetrating cold, taste a bit of the abominable conditions that soldiers of war have felt, day in and day out. 

Maybe I’m a gloomy Gus, but of all the days of the year this is the one that I need to be morosely sad, bringing me closer to the reality of war, to the suffering and the anguish of it all.  I don’t want to feel happy, hear birds sing, I want to wallow and linger in sorrow. This morning felt like I was in a beautiful, sun filled bubble, a shirt sleeve kind of day, uncharacteristically warm for this time of year.  If only I could be happy, smile and appreciate the beauty around me, see it as a gift of their sacrifice, but not me, I have to be eaten by guilt and court shame for the fabulous life I lead that only exists off the hardship and the backs of so many that came and went before us.   To me, suffering a little on this 11th hour, the 11th day of the 11th month, epitomizes the ‘Lest We Forget’..... 

I didn’t go to the cenotaph again this year.  I prefer reflecting on Remembrance Day in solitude.  I am one of those that lost a family member, a grandfather.  I can't remember him on this day of remembrance because I never knew him but he is very real to me.  I am sad that I never got to sit on his lap and be tickled by his scruffy, five o’clock shadow, or his nimble fingers finding those spots that make little children squeal with delight.  I never got to hear his voice or experience the warmth of his love.  Like so many other families, ours missed out on what could have been. Maybe if the past had been altered by my grandfather surviving the war, I would not exist, but that would be fine, I wouldn’t know and my father might have been less sensitive, able to build a stronger backbone with a male role model to help shape it.

My grandfather died when my father was only seven, and as I’ve written before it changed him into a man that was profoundly sad.  My father drank most of his life, not being able to find happiness in his own skin, and every time he tipped his elbow, he cried out for his ‘dad’, the one man that would have helped him to be a better man, maybe a happier person who could have found joy instead of endless loss.        

My grandfather’s portrait hangs in my upstairs hall.  I look at it every morning as I emerge from my bedroom to begin the day.  A beautiful photograph taken by the army and caked with irony, because if not for enlisting, we would not have this clear, lifelike image of him.  It’s a bitter trade-off, his life for a piece of photo paper but it’s all we have to hang on too.   His eyes follow me and seem to speak to me, as if trying to tell me something, as if when he posed for this picture he knew he would not return so he was sending a message through his eyes to comfort the loved ones who would hold it in their grief.  Maybe I’m a romantic making up a story that doesn’t exist, but there is no denying how those eyes draw me in.  There is a connection with that photograph that is undeniable...I share those eyes, they stare back at me in the mirror........... 

This day of reflection is always difficult for me.  I mourn not only the death of a man I’ve never met, I also mourn what could have been.  How his coming home would have changed the course of our family’s history.  My father may not be dead, driven into an early grave by his demons and sadness so palpable everyone who loved him felt it.   War doesn’t only take men in the moment; the collateral damage piles up long after the weapons are laid down.    

Although I am saddened by our personal loss, I am so very thankful to the fallen soldiers and the ones who returned home.  All those men and woman, someone’s son or daughter, someone’s father, mother, brother, sister, husband or wife, ordinary people like you and me, have given us the great gift of freedom at a great expense.  They have been and are tortured by the sights and sounds of war, in dreams and in flashbacks of the past.  You see the flowing tears on their faces as camera’s zoom in for close-ups of the aging veterans at Remembrance Day ceremonies.  They haven’t forgotten the horror of war, their fallen comrades, and the sights that only their own passing will quiet.   We cannot convey enough gratitude to these soldiers.  We owe them everything. 

My grief is private.   I don’t need to stand in a crowd to show how I feel.  I’m embarrassed as tears redden my face as if news of my grandfather’s death is a fresh wound, and in a way it is, every year it opens the scar that will never heal.  I stay home with my box of Kleenex and watch TV documentaries of that horrific time, searching the faces of the men for something familiar.  As more footage is released each year, there is always the chance I might see his dirt soaked skin and those familiar eyes staring at me through the screen.  See the flesh and blood man full of life, a stark contrast to the flat picture hanging on my upstairs wall. 

Larry Willoughby Veinotte
 
Born 1908 Mahone Bay 
Died and buried in Sicily 1943. 

One of 116,000 Canadian soldiers that never came back home. 

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5 Comments

Help Wanted!

11/10/2014

15 Comments

 
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After a meltdown last week, where I soaked the shop’s Persian runner with tears, I am finally to a point where I can breathe without pains in the chest.  Missing so much work in October and into November I filled with anxiety, it welled up like phlegm, choking me with its mass.  I really need to acquire a relaxed attitude because all this worry isn’t good for my hair follicles, which have deserted me once again.  This time even more hair fills my brush, hundreds, possibly thousands of strands are dropping daily like rats from a sinking ship.  In the wind, well actually a light breeze, my thinning mop parts like the red sea showing off large patches of white skin, not a look any woman strives for. If only more gray would move in, the contrast would be less.  If this alarming rate of fallout is a sample of what’s to come, I’ll have to entertain buying a wig, good gravy, is this the reward for hard work....someone’s dead or donated hair on my head?   

One must prepare for the worst, I guess, because this odd shaped head is no candidate for the Shenaid look, with bumps and hollows and the back, the flat as a pancake vertical cliff.    Side on it looks like the back of my head took a whack from a paddle and is the reason why I wear it up and clipped, to fake a natural contour.  Shane says I need a vacation but after being home for weeks with sick dogs and an angry nerve dancing against the bone of my hip hollow, I don’t need a rest, what I do need is more help at the shop. 

So I have posted a Help Wanted add.  I need a team!!! I need to knock out the stress of having to do it all.  Like a save the whales program, think of working for me as saving my hair, because it’s an endangered species.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind jumping in and doing all those little jobs that need to be done, but I can’t be doing them day in and day out, as it takes too much time away from what I should be doing.   No job in the shop is menial, they are all a process to an end product, but my talents are much better served in the creation department, not sticking labels on sales bag,  sewing patterns or wrapping parcels, vacuuming and pushing wool dust around with a rag. I need to know if this old body acts up again, or a pup needs care, everything won’t grind to a halt or swirl down the drain because I can’t make it to work.   

Shane is my only full timer and he needs someone in the shop in my absence.   We have a part time pattern maker that is invaluable, but she has to leave at 2:00 for her daughter getting out of school so we can’t spare her to help with other jobs.  We have a second part timer but she can’t give me a steady commitment to rely on.    It’s time to act and get a team in place before the summer trade creeps up because this  gal is going sailing with her hubby on nice afternoons and I want to do it stress free, leave the shop in capable hands, walk out that door to smell the roses, sniff those proverbial petals right up my nose!     

There has to be room for me to have a personal life because up until now it’s been all about the business. I no longer suffer the burden of house work and I have a book keeper taking care of the paper landslide at the shop.  I’m getting my ducks in order so I can dump the big sack of worry of the daily grind that grows like a prize pumpkin on my back and do the jobs that inspire me.  I’ve been juggling it all and I’m not doing it well because every now and then an extra pin comes hurdling at me to upset the equilibrium and then I have a hissy fit.   I don’t understand why I’m such a putz, I’m not catholic but man do I store up guilt and stress like a squirrel with nuts.   I care too much about being the best we can be, which is a heavy burden. To lighten the load, we need more help.

Happiness is doing the jobs that excite me and at 55, I should be the organ, not the grinder.  I should have the time to meet with customers, design at least a half dozen patterns every week, write books and articles for magazines.  Every now and then it would be fabulous to go off and hook with other groups in the area for the day, especially the museum just down the road that I’ve never had time to visit.  This girl just wants to have some fun and if that doesn’t start happening, well what’s the point. 

I can’t deny I’m the nuts and bolts of the business and that’s a good thing, but as I sew patterns and write up labels, or wrap parcels, or clean, I am reminded of all the things I need to be doing to keep us current and bring business through the door and then anxiety sets in.  People want to come in and see new things, designs and product, and that doesn’t happen when I’m doing jobs that anyone can do.   I’m not trying to raise my importance to the level of royalty, but the Queen doesn’t clean her own toilet, am I right?    

So after the meltdown, I decided to do something for the shop and me that brings joy.  Despite orders on the board, I decided to go into work on Saturday, take care of customers and in between create a new design.  An pattern request for a Mummer design intrigued me and ideas danced around in my head bursting for a pencil to draw to release them.

These are fun jobs, jobs that stimulate my imagination and excited me to the bone, bring meaning to why I do this.  Someone came in and ordered a copy of the Mummers rug right off the design table.  I say WOW!  I haven’t had this much excitement since, well since I designed the last new pattern!   

FYI - I am looking for a production, shipping, sales person.  A high energy, self-motivated, team player.   If no one comes out of the woodwork, I’ll consider cloning Shane, or myself, a few Minnie ME’s around the place is just what the doctor ordered.  If anyone is interested, please forward  a resume and we’ll chat. 

15 Comments

Judging for the Pattern of the Month Club Winner!

11/7/2014

44 Comments

 
Can you help me today? I would like you to vote on the August Pattern of the Month. There were only 5 to judge this time and only Shane and I here to pick a winner...I don't feel that is enough input to be fair because two of them were hooked by my Main Street Hooker's gals. The theme was Dog Days of Summer and the winner will receive 3 yards of Dorr Natural.  Click on the 'Comment' in the upper right hand corner and post your vote.   Thanks! 

Submission #1

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Submission #2

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Submission #3

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Submission #4

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Submission #5

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44 Comments

If the shoe fits.....

11/4/2014

4 Comments

 
This blog is a bit of a catch-up.  As I’ve whined before, October was a rough month personally.  I was absent from work quite a bit and we got behind in some orders.  I want to say thank-you to all of you who were patient, all the back orders have gone, and apologize again to those who couldn’t wait. Life sometimes gets in the way and being such a small company, I don’t have an army of employees to rush in and save the day.   

November seems to be lining up as a better month.  The pups are all over the coughing and Henri’s eye is almost back to normal after two weeks of draining like a culvert after a rain storm.  Jake has gotten back pretty much all his strength and is now hopping up on the sofa in a single bound.   Saturday was a bit of a setback when I came home from work to discover a pocket of fluid under his shin the size of a small egg.  After a panicked call to the vet who didn’t seem to think it was serious, suggested icing it and said I would probably see an improvement in a few days as the body reabsorbs it.  It wasn’t there before I left for work in the morning so it came on pretty quickly.  I handle my pups a lot, massaging them and checking for ticks daily, I would have noticed this large bump that is big enough to show and causes a slight limp.  I used a flashlight to cover the entire area looking for a bite mark or a sting.  No bruising to speak off, so that rules out an injury, just a hard bump.  After a bit of research on the internet I think maybe it was a hematoma because cyst or an abscess is usually softer and would take longer to form.   I’m a bit disturbed as to why it happened, especially after he had a stroke like occurrence the other week.  My pups are rarely sick so I guess we’d been coasting for a long time, to have so much happen in the span of a few weeks has been rough on them and me.  The stress of October has caused my hair to start shedding all over again so I am working hard to reverse that before I go bald.    

My back is almost 90% although my knee decided to protest this morning.  An old injury flares up every now and then.  Probably from favouring my back while moving like old fart for the past week or so.   Shane’s pet name for me is “old gimpy,” and I would think it funny if not for the agony.    The hardest thing to do was get in and out of the car.  I think he took a picture of me in one of my fits of trying to get in with minimal spasming.  If the neighbours were in ear shot they heard a blue streak as the pain cut through me like a hatchet blade. 

It sure is easy to take for granted the simply things in life, like the act of hopping in and out of the car at the grocery store.  I ate eggs for days as shopping wasn’t an option.  I kept going to the cupboard, opening the door to find nothing to eat.  Why I did that repeatedly I’m not sure, maybe the pain dulled my brain, only an idiot does the same thing over and over expecting a different outcome.  Boiled eggs, fried eggs and more boiled, slathered in butter.  Protein overload.  Luckily I buy dozens at a time or I would have had to dine on popcorn, or worse, dog food.   On the days I ventured out for an hour or two, I barely got in and out of the car at work let alone chance taking a spasm at the Save Easy parking lot.  There wasn’t any hubby to take care of me and I always hate to ask for help, putting others out, but I would have killed for some meals on wheels.  I might have complained to friends to take pity on me, but then I didn’t want anyone to see the state of my house, so pride just about starved me. 

The house got messy pretty quickly.  Dishes piled high along the counter, clutter everywhere. Henri likes to chew up egg cartons; a trick daddy thought cute and encouraged, and because eggs were the only staple there were extra thrown by the wood stove to be used as fire starter.  Henri helped himself to the pile and ripped them to shreds leaving hundreds of bits covering the floor.  I couldn't pick up the pieces, literally, so I just kicked them around as I shuffled about.  Getting close to the floor to feed the pups was rough, so basically I just bent as much as I could and dropped their plates from about a half foot up, hoping they wouldn’t break.   They dine off of Blue Willow china, plastic won’t do for these silver spooned babes, so it didn’t take long to run out of dishes as I couldn’t bend back down to scoop them up for a wash.  I shoved them aside with my foot and the pile grew.    

Putting on socks would have been a comedic video if not for the audio of my crying and screaming.  The contortions were excruciating, trying to get each foot, one at a time up high enough so I could pull the sock over the toes.     Hearing me suffer, the pups were concerned and would jump up on me and try to kiss my face, only adding to the pain as I tried to ward them off.

I won’t go into details of how rough it was going to the bathroom.  Just trying to push my jeans down or pull them up was a tale for Ripley’s and as for the wiping part, well, all I can say is “where are your friends when you need them?”  There truly is a need for a gadget, no not a bidet, an electronic wiper, a multi-billion dollar idea waiting to be invented!   FYI -  I looked this up on the interent and found an article about this very thing but unfortunately the prototype backfired and ripped the poor inventor's buttocks off.  Phone a friend might still be the only option....

Out of every dark cloud emerges a silver lining and from this particular woe, I discovered the clog.  If anyone had said, Christine, you should buy a pair of clogs, I would have immediately pictured a wooden pair of Dutch shoes with windmills painted all over them.  Unlike my misconception, today’s clog is an engineered foot massage.  The only pair of shoes in the house I could get on during my flare-up was a sloppy pair of sneakers. There were already loosely tied and with a bit of wiggling, I could slip my foot in but they offered no support so I was in agony wearing them.  Last week after making it to work, I hobbled over to the Mahone Bay Trading Company to have a look around after seeing a show on the Shopping Channel for a clog called a Sanita.  They promoted these shoes to be the best thing since the invention of the wheel, and I bought into it enough to be curious, but not enough to get out the credit card to buy a pair.   I needed relief immediately; waiting for them to arrive in the mail wouldn’t cut it. 

It hurt like hell to walk down the road but driving was too painful and had to be reserved for getting back home.  So I cautiously made my way down the street like I had a load of poop in my pants, and after the failed attempts at wiping, might not have been far from the truth.   I made it to the shoe store to inquire if they had this particular Shopping Channel brand so I could try one on to verify their truth in advertising.   No such luck on that designer, but they did have a Joseph Seibel clog and I have to admit it was pretty darn comfortable slipping my foot into this pair of well-tailored shoes.  I had to stand and hold on to the salesperson to get them on but my foot slid into the shoe as if it was a reunion.   It was if they were made for me, my foot sole mate!  I loved the ease of being able to slip it on and off with the open back so I whipped out the debit card and bought them on the spot and had them throw my shoddy sneakers into a bag.  I hoofed it back to the shop with a bit more pep, but not before ordering a second pair in another colour to be brought in from their sister store.  Apparently clogs are popular and being a size 8, there wasn’t much left to pick from.  My back felt better so I guess I’m a clogger now... if the shoe fits...... 

Friday of last week was my first full day back to work and Shane and I tackled all the orders, wrapping all the parcels to take to the post office.  We felt like the North Pole getting the parcels out and he looked like Santa heading for the post office, a big bag of goodies slung over his back.  

So, barring a setback, funny how that word has ‘back’ in it, I’m again at the helm and things should run more smoothly.  Poor Shane had to manage the shop pretty much on his own with Nancy only part time and Michelle not here at all, and because he was out front with the customers he got behind in his dyeing.   I had to listen to a bit of moaning because he’s anal, I mean dedicated, and hates to get behind, but you step up and do what needs to be done.  If not for him, the shop would have been closed so momma is pleased.  His birthday fell on one the sciatica days and I offer this perk where I give employees their birthday off with pay, so he wasn’t able to cash that chip in but that means he has a day off whenever he wants.   To have such problems.....  

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4 Comments

Second Workshop with Michele Micarelli

11/3/2014

3 Comments

 
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The second workshop, held during the week was just as lively as the previous one.  I visited whenever I could when my Aunt Audrey dog sat for my sick pups. 

Each time I popped by, the atmosphere was charged with excitement, a shame that feeling couldn't be bottled and sold!  The room exploded with colour,  a feast for any rug hooker's eye.  The urge to touch and caress all the beautiful wool was overwhelming.  Yes, it was a rug hooker's paradise, the only thing missing was the musicality of tropical ocean surf, a warm breeze and a pretty drink with an umbrella.   I think everyone would agree the workshops were a fabulous success! 


My apologies, somehow I missed Mary's rug!  How could I miss my Mary????????  I'm sure I'll catch her rug at the hook-ins.  She was working on a large Scottie Dog pattern. 
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    Christine Little has been ranked #5​ out of the 60 top rug hooking bloggers by Rug Hooking Magazine!

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    Max Anderson, Australia, recipient of my Nova Scotia Treasures rug.  An award of excellence for promoting Canada through his writing.  
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