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Happy New Year!!!!

12/31/2014

Like Elvis, 2014 prepares to leave the building while 2015 waits to take the stage. I’m very excited about the future, not only in my personal life but for the shop and rug hooking. With so many possibilities, designs and ideas waiting to be tapped I look ahead with the wonderment of a child waiting for Santa. This is going to be a very big year, I can feel it. We’re going to put our heads together and reach for the stars, anything less won’t do.

I want to take this time to thank you all for your kindness and support. Without you we would be nothing, so we sincerely appreciate all you do. And this comes with a promise that we will work our butts off to continue offering exemplary service and bring you continued quality products.

On this eve of the new year, we wish you love and happiness. The year is new, the hopes are new, the aspirations are new, but our warm wishes for happiness and prosperity remain the same for you and your loved ones.

Fresh hopes, fresh plans, fresh efforts and fresh commitments. We now have a new 365 days to play/ Lets fill them with even more "F" words......FUN and FIBER!

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New "F" words.....

12/30/2014

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Fiancée….a new word in the vocabulary. It slides around on the tongue like a creamy latte.   A very sweet word, like chocolate, you can say fiancée and only good thoughts materialize, especially when the word implies someone special.

Fiancée is not a title I’ve ever worn. For both marriages, there was casual talk of marriage, a ring materialized in a lack luster way, “So you know I have it, so here” and off to the vows so quickly that I didn’t have the time to advertise my new found status. Obviously I was a catch; they purposely left little chance for a decline.

After the recent engagement of my son, this new found word is flying around like a flock of song birds. My son the fiancé, is going to marry Ashley, the fiancée. I like the sound of it. I like what it represents. I’ll be beaming over these F words right up to the time when he marries, when the "F" word will be traded up for “husband”. Then a whole new set of words will emerge like daughter-in-law and mother-in-law, which I might add will not come with any negative connotations. I won’t be one of those clinging mothers of the groom that are asked to wear beige and keep quiet. I will be helpful and supportive, bursting at the buttons with pride. Yup, I’m going to break the mold and destroy the stigma this word entails which will invariably put comedians will be out of work as their material dries up.   I can’t see any negatives in this relationship and even if I did, they are none of my business. This is one mother who knows how to keep her nose out of her son’s life unless she’s asked to stick it in and then I’d sniff lightly. He’s a big boy and I’m far too busy running my own life, leaving little time for meddling.

There are few monuments on the road of life. Births, birthdays and weddings. These are the majors interspersed with the various holidays like Christmas and New Year’s. We look forward to these special occasions to break up all the flat line living in between. Some mix it up by taking exotic vacations, but really the wedding is probably the most exciting, the most dreamed of, celebrated experience of a person’s life.

It’s a transition from single to a couple; the merger of two people who love one another and want to spend the rest of their lives together, till death do they part.   It comes without an instruction manual and each marriage is unique. The happy couple chips away at building their life together as the years slip slowly by and there are rewards for a successful union; the anniversary. The birthday of the wedding and it comes with a list of gifts that coordinate with the length of the marriage. The longer you hang in, the better the gift.

Sixty years of marriage yields a diamond. Personally, with only 23 years in on this second try, I wonder if I’ll ever make it to the diamond. The crow in me wants the rock but I’d have to see 93 and then have to be able to see, literally, to enjoy the ring or necklace, whatever form the diamond is presented in. That’s an awfully long time to wait for a piece of pressurized carbon and what if I outlive current hubby, I'll be cheated. I won't be able to start over and put in enough time on a third run. Maybe there should be a rule where you can combine all marriages together, you’ve done the time and it’s basically all the same stuff, only the spouse changes. Stick the last one with the bill, make it all about the destination, not how you got there!

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Happy news, sad news and all else in between.......

12/29/2014

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I hope everyone had a fun and safe Christmas holiday however you might celebrate! Hubby and I didn’t intentionally indulge in the commercial side of Christmas but strangely, there seems to be a lot of presents under the tree. Funny how that transpired…..

The holiday preparations got ahead of me but in the end it all worked out. I managed to keep calm and not allow panic to creep in. We decorated the tree Christmas Eve, which was a first for sure as the tree is always in and decorated on my birthday, it’s tradition since I was a wee lass but, better late than never. Usually we biff the tree New Year’s Day but this year I’ll let it hang around until our company leaves so the poor thing wasn’t chopped down for only a week’s pleasure.

I ran out of time to bake cookies but in the end that worked out perfectly as well. Company arrived from Ontario bearing several varieties of cookie and butter tarts. How is that for all’s well that ends well. I still plan to do some baking, but the pressure is off as I munch away on baked gifts.

Christmas day didn’t go without incident but that’s par for the course for the Littles. We have a grey cloud that follows us around but in the end always sends down a bolt of silver lining. Some call it Murphy’s Law, we just call it normal. It seems everything we do comes with a certain degree of difficulty but all irons out in the end.   We expect it now so we take most things in stride.

Gregg left for the airport at 2:00 to pick up his brother and sister in law while I stayed home to prepare the feast. After he was on the road for 1/2 hour his brother Terry called to say the plane had been turned around and went back to Toronto airport. The estimated time of arrival in Halifax would be after 5:00. So I phone Gregg and he drove back home in time to help peal the blanched pearl onions.

Charlene came by for a visit to chat with me while I peeled and chopped and made dressing. The dinner was pushed back an hour and a half but no one cared, especially after we plied our guests with liquid cheer. The dinner was delicious if I do say so myself.   I’ve always found the Christmas feast a fairly easy meal to prepare.   The worst part is standing in one position and having to feel complaints from my right knee. The turkey basically cooks itself with periodic basting, veggies are a no brainer; the only problem is playing seven musical pots with only four burners. A lot of precision timing to get it all to the serving point at the same time. To my Martha credit, after many years of making the turkey feast, I have it down to a science so there weren’t any surprises there.

The big news for the day was my son got engaged to the love of his life, Ashley. I couldn’t be more excited. Ashley is lovely and I look forward to their big day in the near future...maybe this summer! The ring is gorgeous and sparkly, almost as brilliant as the woman wearing it. Momma is very, very happy! I look forward to experiencing the preparations as we steer toward their big day! Every time I think of them I tear up, sentimental old fool that I am.

Saturday evening Patsy and hubby Jay, and three pups dropped in for a visit. Seven dogs in the house was the best entertainment ever. My dogs are rarely socialized with other canines; there aren’t many dogs in our circle so it was fabulous that they brought their furry kids over to meet with ours. Our two girls weren’t bothered at all, Henri was skittish at first but four and still a puppy himself, he quickly played with Howie, their youngest of less than a year. Jake was a bit of a handful to start but he quieted down, mostly sat on the sofa beside me and watched all the activity. I look forward to more play dates!   We posed them all on the sofa for a Christmas picture and maybe they are looking in different directions but I think we accomplished a great feat having them all in a row.   What fun! I was secretly thinking, I could have seven dogs…….

Boxing day we received the very sad news of our friend, Thom Lawrence, who passed away. Although he was in the hospital it was still a total shock and so unbelievable I could barely comprehend the words, but seeing the pictures of him posted on Facebook, that familiar contagious smile, brought home that we would never see it again and then it was so real it was palpable. He had a lovely face, I always thought rather handsome, his eyes sparkled and danced to match his mischievous grin. He had more fun in his pinky finger than I have in my entire body. He lived large and it is consoling to know that every minute he spent on earth was used, squeezed for every ounce of fun and adventure, but that doesn’t make his loss any less devastating. RIP Thom. Another person taken in their prime, still young, beautiful and full of life.

I feel so sad for his life partner Juanita and can’t begin to imagine how she must feel but she has a huge network of friends who love her and will be there for her to lean on in the days ahead to help get through this heart-breaking transition. There is a Celebration of Thom’s Life on Saturday, a chance for his friends and loved ones to come together, tell stories and share memories, a time for all to say our good-byes.

Happy times of Chester Race Week. Thom is in the peach shirt, my hubby is to the right.

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Bald Eagle spotting.....

12/23/2014

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When I'm out in the yard with the pups I never take my eyes off them. You could try to distract me with conversation or swinging pasties but I won’t be looking because I'm on alert and have the maternal instincts of four legged animal that doesn’t take chances with a litter.

There is so much that can harm a pet, one of my beloved poodles were bitten by a spider at the woodpile and died, so I am paranoid beyond belief. I would never leave them unattended, keeping ears and eyes on full alert, scoping the surrounding landscape ready to roll into action if called on. Wildlife isn’t the only threat, there are dangers on the ground. I don’t allow snacking on dead things, various dead vermin like ground moles and mice, shells, (seagulls like to drop mussels and crabs on the rocks around the yard to break their shells and if they miss a piece, the stench of rot would curl your hair), rotting humus, maple leaves, mushrooms, compost juices, a whole list of things to be wary of.

We haven’t seen any coyotes lately but we heard a few barks from up in the hills at night. The deer are around, usually so close I could throw a stick at them but they aren’t threatening to us unless they were charged and then a pup might get a hoof in the mouth. A kick would probably seriously harm or kill a small dog. Luckily the dogs pay them no heed so I never worry about their presence.

Sunday morning was crisp and clear and we were in the front of the property, down by the rock wall that runs along the front of the house. I sensed it more than saw it, turned my head and there it was. A Bald Eagle, soaring parallel to our property, on its way to toward town. The white head and tail tip were stark contrast against the greyish sky and dark body of feathers. The wing span had to be somewhere between 5 and 7 feet, a big bird that can handle larger prey, like bunnies or a toy poodle. A shiver went down my spine as I thought the worst scenario. Although a magnificent specimen of nature and interesting to watch, it wouldn’t think twice about a poodle sandwich. It scouted out over the harbour looking for fish, circled back around and landed on the neighbour’s tree on the water side of the road. I’m sure he spotted us but maybe with a human handy it wouldn’t try anything. I’ve spotted hawks before but they were smaller and although I wouldn’t turn my back on one, I’m not sure they could handle the weight of one of my pups and still get off the ground. But this guy is a different story. He’s a legitimate threat. Now I’ll be on guard looking up down and all around. I hollered for hubby who came out with the camera and took a few pictures. He was in his slippers so didn’t want to traipse over the wet grass to get closer and shot these at a distance, but you can clearly make out his distinct colouring. Every day is a lesson in nature if your eyes and ears are open to it.

FYI - Bald Eagles are not bald because the head is featherless; it is because the head of an adult is white. They probably mate for life and build their nest in a tree, cliff or even on the ground and add to it each year using such materials as sticks, weeds, and earth until it may weigh a thousand pounds or more. One observer saw a bird lift and fly away with the top of a muskrat house, presumably as a handy package of nest makings. Bald Eagles eat carrion, waterfowl and especially fish. In recent years pesticides have often polluted their food, a fact that has the contributed to the decline of the bird in many areas.

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Time is running out!!!

12/22/2014

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There is shopping to do, the tree is still leaning against the corner of the house, I have nothing baked and there is company arriving Christmas Day. Am I worried or concerned….not yet! I’m practicing the art of a stress free holiday. Something new I’m attempting to see how it fits. Quite the contrast after years of losing my mind in the details and lists this time of year brings. Even though the days leading up to Christmas are running away like cheap pantyhose, I’m playing it cool.

I seem to be keeping ahead of the panic and so far, knock on wood, the nightmares haven’t started like in previous years. It’s a torturous, reoccurring dream of shopping in stores that have nothing left on the shelves except dust and wires as pictured in the Grinch that stole Christmas, or when I get to the shops the doors are locked, a whole other degree of panic. I usually wake in a sweat and a dry mouth, probably from screaming? This cool attitude might be the defense against sleepless nights and wild dreams, which I might add have been great since hubby came home. I’ve been snoring up a storm, chiming in with pups, Henri and Fiz as they saw their own chords of lumber every night.

Sunday morning I slept in and dreamed of my mother.   She was young looking and it was established in the dream that I was 27, what significance that holds is lost on me; I don’t even remember being that age. Mom was so real and comforting I was thoroughly upset when the alarm woke me. I tried to go back to sleep to finish the dream, something I’ve done before but she was gone.   Whenever I dream of my parents I am overjoyed and cling to the memory until it dissolves.

This dream was strange in content. I was single and my father had died. Considering my mother was the first to pass it was strange but I can’t spend too much time analyzing, I’m just happy to be able to gaze upon her so full of life. It was weird though, I was feeling lonely and exclaimed that I was going to join a local dating website and sign us both up, that I was tired of being alone and neither should she. That’s when I woke up. Puzzled I asked hubby what he thought it might mean and he said, “It’s probably about wanting another dog, that’s all I hear you talk about.”   It is a fact that I moan for another puppy. Even though my hands are full with the pack I have my heart isn’t. I have love for many more furry kids. Maybe once I retire I’ll add to my little family, but right now four is the magic number. So there is no clear meaning to the dream but much appreciated time with my mom. A wonderful Christmas gift from my subconscious!

I spent Sunday clearing my shop desk of paperwork and got the huge white monster down to a mosquito sized bite. I had a very busy week with a trip to the airport, hubby’s and my birthday, his is the day after mine, various appointments and spending time together.   Because I was so distracted with my personal life, everything piled up and I even forgot to do the payroll deduction remittance on the 15th, so now there will be a nasty fine to pay.

Thank goodness I won’t have a white Christmas, white as in paper, as the landslide is once again under control. Now I can truly relax and think about the coming holidays.   The accountant came today and picked up the box so she can do her end of things, she’s the best thing since sliced bread!

Tonight the tree will go in the stand and after the branches relax, I’ll throw on the ornaments. I don’t plan to go crazy with baked goods, just the traditional shortbreads, my favourite, and butter tarts, hubby’s favourite and the remaining sweets can come from Costco Belgian chocolates.

Truthfully, if I’m not cutting it close it wouldn’t be Christmas! The twist will be that I’m approaching this year with the mellowness that comes from drinking a bottle of wine. It’s so strange and unfamiliar to my normally type A personality, but hubby will appreciate the calm and will probably wonder what happened to his wife and wait on eggshells for the true me to emerge, bringing on the angst and tears as the final countdown begins. The problem is I know me. No matter how good my intentions are, I’ll end up losing my mind and get things done by the wirey menopausal hair of my chinny, chin, chin. And I’ll get there; let’s just hope he’s still speaking to me.

One way or another, the Christmas feast will be served promptly at 6:00 pm on the Day. The potatoes will be mashed to perfection; the sweet potatoes will be slices of maple heaven. My special sweet and sour onions will be the perfect companion to the mustard cauliflower, homemade cranberry sauce and hubby’s special honey infused turnip, parsnip and carrot mash. Yup, the food will be perfect as I pull that rabbit out of my hat once again, and afterwards we will sit around with our pants unbuttoned waiting for room for dessert. It will be something made with apples, depending on time allowance. If I get up early and feel inclined it will be apple pie, but if time pulls the rug out, I’ll go simple and put out my mother’s recipe for apple crisp, a much loved staple in the family. A bit of quality vanilla ice-cream and we’re good to go. We also have a rum soaked fruitcake that will top it all off and a liqueur if fancied.

Shane and Ashley are coming for dinner and my brother and sister-in-law are arriving from Whitefish, Ontario on Christmas Day. They should arrive just as the turkey is coming out of the oven, all crisp and golden brown. All that will remain is making the gravy, carving the beast and serving.   I'll let you know how I make out!

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Happy Birthday to me....

12/19/2014

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Thursday I turned 56 and I'm not bothered in the least. Aside from the diabetes and a bum knee that only acts up occasionally, I’m as fit as a fiddle.   I don’t take any drugs, have no aches or pains and I could spring out of bed in the morning like any woman half my age if I wanted too.   Like everything, age is relative. A few years back 56 seemed ancient, and maybe a bit scary, but now it’s a comfortable fit. I am happy with who I am and wouldn’t want to go back for all the tea in China, although if tea were wool, I might digress.

Someone came into the shop the other day and after a bit of chat, said that they are a lot older than they looked and asked me to take a guess. I winked and said playfully, “Sir, I don’t want to flatter or insult you so I’d rather not play that game.” We both laughed and to further the conversation I added lightly that I am also older than I look, not meaning to cajole him into a guessing game, but for some reason he jumped right in and asked if I was 63.   Not expecting anything quite so high, my face must have registered a bit of shock. I suppose it was amusing as he tried to backtrack, tripping over his words to explain why he landed on that particular number......I could see the heel of a foot sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he tried to swallow it. If he was 69, which he confessed quickly to make the 63 appear youthful, you would think in all his years of dealing with women, especially with the wife standing beside him shooting daggers in his direction, he’d have learned to keep quiet when it comes to this topic. Maybe he’s an experienced shoe chewer, or a bit naïve, or maybe he was calling it as he saw it.   Could it be possible that I look 63? Maybe the fact that I don’t use a moisturizer is catching up with me?

Truthfully, I’m not vain so the man’s declaration didn’t impact my day, but it got me thinking about spending a bit more time on my appearance, so I look the age I am. I’m a bit on the dowdy side, my friends will agree, and maybe the lethargy to which I choose my wardrobe ages me prematurely. I’m never wrapped in pretty scarves or blinged up although I have a large box filled with jewellery and even stranger, make it. The crow in me likes to covet and look at these possessions but I never think of putting it on. I wear the same pair of hoop earrings every day and will until I lose one in a fateful accident like a dog chewing or flipped off in a seat belt tug.

Anyway, I would like to stress, I have absolutely no problem looking 56. I just don’t want to look 63. I could slather nighttime moisturizer all over my face, going to bed looking like a victim of a Crisco shortening explosion but I don’t believe external products prevent wrinkles, as preached by dermatologists who say products that promise anti-aging or reversing the signs of, are a waste of time and money. I do believe hydration comes from within and I drink a fair amount of water so my skin is what it is. Softening this mug and plumping the wrinkles is about as futile an effort and foolhardy a thinking as wanting to live to be 150. It ain’t gonna happen! All I ask is to look 56 now and 63 when I get there, no jumping the gun.

When it all boils down I would rather develop my brain than work hard at diminishing wrinkles. Like a prosecutor, I pick the battles I can win and stay clear of the losing ones. I think what’s inside far outweighs what is on the outside.     The exterior is only temporary; you need to come to terms with that and move on because only our minds remain constant. To be this blasé, maybe I have the emotions of a turnip, making me a far cry from the average woman who seems to love to shop and look their best. If the economy depended on this gal to keep the cosmetic and fashion industry afloat we’d all smell badly and run around naked. It just isn’t something I think or care about.

I make jokes about not wanting to look old, but that’s me playing the comedian. I really don’t understand the concept of eternal youth and cosmetic surgery. To try to hold on to something that will slip away like water in your hand is pointless.   Trying to remain young is sad, dangerous and a total waste of time and money.   Stretching facial skin to extremes is a horror story, no different than a Dracula or a Ted Bundy type on the loose. The money wasted on alterations and Botox is in the multi billions, and what is the purpose when it doesn’t last or worse, morphs you into a monster? Why not feed the starving and help the homeless. Joan Rivers alone could have saved the lives of thousands of starving children. Instead the money she wasted allowed doctors to drive expensive cars and live in multi-million dollar mansions.   And yes I know it's a person's right to do what they want with their own body and money but I can still have an opinion.....

I know a gal with butt implants. What a ridiculous waste of money.   Walking around with gel packs in your ass, how does that make one feel better about themselves? How does that improve your life?   My buttocks dropped to the back of my knees decades ago, I know where they are so I don’t worry. As long as it stays there and doesn’t travel to my ankles I’m good with it. How would a rounded rump make me a better person? Make my life better? The cookie cutter answer is “It makes me feel better about myself.” Call me a dork, but I really don’t understand how it makes you feel better to sit on a pocket of silicone, please someone explain it so I do.

I do have one or two little vises though. Lipstick being one of them. I can’t give it up even though I know I’m smearing mercury and thallium on my skin. I only wear it to diffuse the redness of my face, a scourge that’s been haunting me since my thirties. I’m told its rosacea and I could have a laser treatment to make it go away but the chances of my outer layers of skin fusing to the underlying muscle, or one of the many other things that could go wrong, is enough to scare me off. One person in 1000? Those odds are not good enough. 1 in a billion is getting better but I’ll still pass.   And Botox, or ass fat injected into lips, I say, “what’s wrong with paper thin lips?” No one has ever complained when I kissed them. Some of the lips out there are frightening, you could suffocate in their mass.

Maybe not possessing beauty has allowed me to build character on the inside. I’ve done alright for myself without all the cosmetic and name brand superficial stuff. I’ve been loved, never long without a husband or a boyfriend, not necessarily in that order or at the same time. Even as a young woman I never had more than a casual interest in my own physical appearance, or desire to dress it up.   I’ve had to wear suits and office attire in my former life, but now it's simple, I work in a job that doesn’t call for dolling up. I like to look at pretty things on other women but have no desire to shop for, maintain or wear anything that can’t be thrown on my back after a quick iron or have to worry that it will get ruined by grippers or a marker slip. What I wear has to have the longevity of Kevlar, its look is secondary.

I don’t believe I’ve lost out on being disinterested in the physical body or dressing like a page out of a magazine. I keep myself clean and care little that I will be old and withered at my turn on the geriatric ride. I don't fight the inevitable, it's a battle I can't win. I'm not going to fill the wrinkles with spackle or use make-up that is one step away from epoxy. I’m going to grow old naturally, and as long as I can think coherent thoughts, be creative and gaze upon my loved ones through cataracts that I’ll refuse to have removed, I will be content in my Shar-Pei like skin all the way to the end.

Wednesday evening was a hook-in night and a few of the gals surprised me with a bit of early birthday fun. The weather was miserable, raining cats and dogs and a few horses so most didn't venture out but the diehards were here. There was wine, cheesecakes and the most delectable cupcakes ever. Anne Holmes daughter Angela who owns Angela's Delectable Delights in Halifax made two trays of the most exquisite apple Cinnamon cupcakes with a cream cheese frosting you could ever eat. There were heavenly! Check out Angela's Facebook page for some sweet eye-candy. https://www.facebook.com/pages/Angelas-Delectable-Delights/539670542737318?ref=br_tf

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Counting horses.....

12/16/2014

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Life has been a whirlwind. I’ve been flying around for days like a chicken with its head removed.   As Christmas bears down on me like a runaway freight train, there is a severe shortage of hours in the day! I don’t have my tree yet let alone decorated, I have shopping to do, my license will expired in two days if I don’t get to Bridgewater and I have a list as long as my arm for preparations for the holidays.

Work is busy too. Getting parcels out for the Christmas rush is a chest pounding exercise. We are tripping over one another to get it all in the mail. Michelle took about 30 parcels to the post office yesterday and today and more to go tomorrow. We joke that we feel like we’re at the North Pole making wool for the little hookers. We used two rolls of tape today. That’s a lot of tape!   I can still smell it from tearing it off the dispenser, heated from overuse. Maybe that’s why we’re giddy, the tape fumes! Wrapping parcels is like wrapping Christmas presents, we love it!!!

Sunday I worked late in the shop getting things done knowing that Monday I’d be in the city picking up Hubby at the airport. I flew around like a witch on a broom getting custom orders ready then ran the vacuum around to clean the wool matted carpets and floor. Little bails of wool dust, like tumbleweeds in the desert blew around as I moved about. It doesn’t take long for the shop to get covered in wool dust when cutting kits, you could write you name on every flat surface.   By the time I arrived home at 10:00 pm, I was drenched in sweat and as wound as a toy so I sat in the wing back chair for an hour calming down before climbing the stairs for bed.

You see I had to get to bed to rise at 5:30 to get ready for a trip to the airport. I hoped to be there for 7:30 although his flight got in an hour before.   It’s just way too early for me. I was going to be late, that was a given. Hubby knows the score and waits patiently for me to arrive, reading his book and trying not to nod off after his all night flight. I had all the intentions of doing the best I could. He’s such a great guy, so sweet and supportive. I have such a lovely home and a charmed life and it’s all possible because he works hard to keep me in the lifestyle I’ve grown accustomed too so I didn’t want to let him down, again. But….and there is that but, after I went to bed I watched the minutes tick by, hour after hour disappeared into a thick fog of despair, there wasn’t an ounce of sleep to be had. There is no way in heck I could drive to the city without sleep, especially in the dark as the sun doesn’t rise until 7:45.   I’d be asleep behind the wheel before I left the Bay. Yup, there was no sleep for me in bed, but while driving it would come with a guarantee! I’ve done it before, have the Tshirt of landing in the harbor between snores, so the fear of a replay is always there.

I was pretty frustrated. I tossed and turned like a chicken on a spit, counting sheep, then thought maybe working with wool all day might keep me stimulated, maybe I should count horses.....tried to blank all thoughts, stared into the darkness as that makes my eyes flutter shut and sometimes brings sleep on, got out of bed to lay on the Chaise, put my head under the covers for the warmth to bring on drowsiness or suffocation, whatever shut my brain down first. I tried the opposite side of the bed, lay on my back, the right side, on the left, on my belly, on the floor, I tried it all, over and over.   I did slip way a few times but came right back with a jolt as if my body was rebelling against sleep, pimp slapping me for daring to nod off. Why I just didn’t go downstairs and sleep on the sofa is beyond me…..why didn’t I bed there in the first place? I know better, this always happens. I can sleep there without fail, it’s uncomfortable, especially with four dogs fitting around me so I am trapped like a mummy in a tomb but the sandman comes without fail.

Of course, once the alarm went off I couldn’t stay awake, as if my body was waiting for the buzzing, like a Pavlov’s bell to induce sleep before the drooling. I turned off the snooze every 10 minutes from 5:45 – 7:30, sleeping soundly, or as sound as one can for a few minutes at a time. No rem sleep, just shaving off the deep sickness in the pit of my stomach from being awake all night long. It’s an ache like extreme hunger.

The shame of my poor hubby waiting dragged my sorry arse out of bed. My eye lids were half-mast as I showered. I brushed my teeth three times, forgetting I’d already done it each time. It took two coffees before I was wide eyed and bushy tailed enough to drive and then I was fine. The hour long ride to the airport was uneventful, then hubby and I went out for breakfast followed by a bit of shopping in the Christmas crazy city, good lord the people and lineups!

It’s no secret I suffer occasionally without sleep that I refuse to take drugs for it.    If it’s caused by menopause that will go away in time, I’ll wait it out. It comes and it goes, so there is reprieve more than not. During the worst times of the month, I’m functioning on four hours or less and seem to be keeping it together; I’m hoping there won’t be any long term complications. It’s my life so I just grin and bare it. Whatdoyoudo?

I do find it a bit frustrating that my hubby doesn’t understand….not quite as exasperating as waiting at the airport with no one there to greet or pick them up on time.....but close. He thinks I fight sleep. Tells me to stop struggling so much. Aw sweet…….if it wasn’t for the fact that I am so happy with the newness of his homecoming I might slug him. For those, like my hubby, who fall asleep before their head hits the pillow they don’t understand the struggle of the insomniac. They think we do it on purpose. I’m told, just sleep! All I would like to say is don’t be so smug with being able to fall asleep at the drop of a hat, because the scientists say that you are sleep deprived as well, not getting enough hours, or at least enough of what you must need, so basically you’re standing in my shoes whether you know it or not.

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Wool Special!!!!

12/12/2014

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These are some of the wonderful wools Shane's been dyeing. He calls them Butterfly Wings. They hook up like spot dyed wools. Each piece is 1/2 yard. $30.00.
(If ordering the wools on this page, state that it is from Butterfly Collection as some of these formulas are also Spot Dyes on the website.)

Sale - Christmas Special Sat 13th - Wed 16th
All Hand dyed wool in either 1/4 or 1/2 yards,
3 Values or 6 Values
All 15% off
Check out the website to see all the wools we sell!!!
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/wool.html

Aegean Sea

Hyacinth

Deep Impact

Nebula

Solar Flare

Forest Canopy

Cherry Garcia

Ruby

Blue Rocks

Impressionist

Light Green

Meadows

Green Pastures

Mermaid Tail

Delft

Tree Bark

Call our toll free line 1-855-624-0370 or
click this link to place a PayPal order
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/contact-us.html

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Cone Santa Special!

12/11/2014

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Special Offer!!! I used one of the bundles Shane made to make another Cone Santa.

I am offering a sale!!!

For $45.00 we will send you the bundle of wool, 1 Cone Santa pattern on linen and I'll throw in the green, some black for the belt and roving for the beard. Wool in the bundle is a plaid (as shown), buttercup gold, red and white. There will be a picture of the finished Santa included and instructions on how to hook it.

I sewed on two cute little red buttons for an added bit of fun. (not included)

Call our toll free line 1-855-624-0370 or
click this link to place a PayPal order
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/contact-us.html

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September Pattern of the Month Winner!

12/10/2014

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Anne Holmes!

Come and pick up your prize! Three Yards of Dorr Natural!

Only three more months to go before the grande finale of a
$500.00 Shopping Spree at the studio!!

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When a tree falls in the living room does anybody hear....?

12/9/2014

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I found this picture on the internet, looks like someone else agrees....

Many moons ago, shortly after separating from my first husband I found myself on my own to put up the Christmas tree. Usually I was the assistant tree holder for the job, wearing gloves to keep the sap from my hands, while the Ex did the heavy work to position the stump and tighten down the bolts on the stand. Left on my own with only two hands, it was a struggle. Unfortunately, if something had to go wrong, why did it have to wait until after the tree was fully decorated, like when a bird waits to poop on the newly washed car.

Back then my ornaments were antique glass balls that were as fragile as eggshells. My mother gave them to me making them precious and irreplaceable. I loved them. They twinkled like stars from the glow of the lights. I remember standing in front of this beautifully adorned tree, it was late in the evening and my work over, I took a few moments to appreciate the effort. I was thinking it didn't look too shabby for a first attempt on my own. Times were tough for us but my little boy would never know, I would make this Christmas one to remember.

That’s when a loud snap pierced the night. The sound came from the fatigued metal of the tree stand, worn thin from years of use, scratched and dented with rust eating away at its integrity. Bruce Cockburn asks, if a tree falls in the forest does anybody hear, well all I know is that when one falls in the living room it certainly makes a clamor, especially when it takes out a lamp off the table on the way down and each delicate glass ball, and several large Christmas lights shatter on impact with the floor. The light sets were the old kind, when one went out they all did so the room, moments before glorious with coloured sparkling diamonds was now engulfed in blackness, which perfectly matched my mood.

It was over in a matter of seconds but I stood minutes in disbelief, and then there were tears. I crunched broken glass on the way to the wall switch to turn on the ceiling light. What a mangled mess.   The ornaments my mother had given me, broken, thousands of fragments glittering and littering the floor, family heirlooms smashed like broken dreams.

Like thin ice, those old glass ornaments were almost too fragile to handle let alone sustain a blow. As children we would accidentally poke our clumsy fingers through them just taking them out of the boxes. For some reason, I hadn’t put on the glass tree top that mom has also given to me, traded in for her new electric star. This iridescent topper was so fragile, so delicate I worried breaking it getting it on the thick tree top, so it was still in the box and safe. To this day I don't put it on my tree, no matter how rugged the stand.   It’s a precious family heirloom to be coveted, not risked on a frivolous occasion like Christmas. I think if I broke it I would cry until I convulsed, like the cranberry glass incident I wrote about last year.   So few items remain from my past, memories of my mother and how she loved Christmas I can’t risk it but sadly, it's like locking a diamond ring away in a safety deposit box because you are too afraid to wear it or lose it, where is the joy in that?

The water from the stand's basin had soaked the carpet, further damping my mood. Was this an omen? Was I being punished for trying to make it on my own, for trying to provide a safe and happy environment for us? Self-pity moved in, conditioned to beat myself up after years of abuse it seemed I was being punished for daring to build a better life. Maybe I was too stupid to deserve a good life, if I couldn’t even put up a tree! I was black and hard on myself, but felt a bit better when I realized the stand had given up the ghost causing the crash, not something I’d done. One of the legs had snapped after decades of serving Christmas.    That revelation made me feel a bit better but still deflated; I turned out the lights and went to bed, to deal with the mess in the light of day.

In no financial position to buy a new stand with Christmas around the corner and my social assistance cheques barely covering food and a roof over our head, I jury rigged a stand from lumber bits, nails and an old mixing bowl for watering.   In future years I bought a new stand but was never totally confident in its ability so I always tethered the tree to the wall. And as for the ornaments, I shied away from breakable ones and went for handmade and anything that would survive a fall, items not very exciting or sparkly but there was merit in rugged and dull.

This memory had been buried for some time, but when Shane phoned last evening to say his tree stand developed a hole and the water leaked out over his living room my mind traveled back in time, zeroing in on the tree disaster that first year on our own. He called to see if he could borrow our stand until he replaced his. After a trip to the attic I told him to keep the stand.   I’d spent a lot of money buying one that exuded confidence, it would hold up whatever size tree went in it and then some. Our house with its low ceilings and little space for a grand tree, we usually buy a shorter, slim one and although the stand I bought was overkill, I could sleep at night knowing the tree will be upright in the morning.   I would imagine Shane, a bit like his mom, will appreciate not having to worry about their tree so I gave him peace of mind. I’ll buy another one. That’s what moms do.

I found this picture of an antique tree topper on the internet. The shape is right but ours was more iridescent with pinks and greens and it had snow on it. This one is rather plain and I would prefer a picture of the actual piece but I worried about digging it out of the attic and breaking it....falling down the ladder and landing on it with my rump. I'll wait until hubby is home to help with this delicate mission.

2 Comments

Another Father Christmas Festival over....

12/8/2014

7 Comments

Small, Medium and Large Cone Santa

It was a very long weekend. Although the Festivals are fun for the town, for me they mean losing my day off on Sunday. Rug hooking is an exclusive craft, the town may be bursting at the seams with visitors but there has to be an interest in this craft to open the shop door. Sometimes they enter just to check us out and turn on a dime when they see nothing but walls of wool. Crazy I know!   Taking my entire weekend for such low numbers is rough, and having no day off takes a toll.

When I arrived home Sunday evening, I spied a bottle of wine from Wednesday’s party and did something I’ve never done before. I poured myself a glass. Maybe it was sleep deprivation that made me do it, or the devil! I have never, ever, hankered for a drink after work...could this be the beginning of something bad, sliding down the rabbit hole of inebriation? A year from now I'll be living on the street, begging for wool from passersby?

Actually, there wasn’t any room for the bottle in the fridge packed to capacity with leftovers, and letting it sit on the counter seemed a waste of wine and the money someone spent on it. There was very little taken from the bottle so I would have felt guilty pouring it down the drain. Wine doesn’t go flat but it does lose its appeal after it’s opened. That was the first sip of wine in months and first ever after a day of work. What a weird concept for me, but as it mellowed out the evening and replaced the chill of outside with a warm sensation, I started thinking, maybe its something I should visit more often, you know, for medicinal reasons and stress relief.

I didn’t have a difficult week, just a long one so its difficult to justify drinking. Sometimes sitting around doing little is more exhausting than working hard. Sometimes I feel if I stop moving I'll be overtaken by laziness and learn to like it but no one can work without a break, it's rough on the old legs. It was lack luster crawling out of bed yesterday morning. It would have been wonderful to stay home and veg on the sofa, but I had to open for those who expect the shops to be available during the festival, and you never know when a rug hooking sister will come through the door.   In this instance the boss doesn't get any perks, she has to man the helm of an empty ship.

Sunday might have been a very long day if Patsy didn’t drop in mid-afternoon for some hooking and chat. I wasn’t much inspired to do anything so her company made the minutes tick by a bit faster and we had a good ole yarn.

I had very few people in the shop this weekend. Saturday it rained and although that usually doesn’t put a damper on festival enthusiasm, there we a few car accidents that stopped traffic for hours on the 103, cars were lined up in the hundreds and I’m sure a lot of them were destined for Mahone Bay, making the town very quiet. Even Sunday, on my way to work the streets were like a ghost town with only a person here and there. I think last weekend was much more successful than this one, too bad for the town with all the work put into the festival. The highlight of the day was seeing the Grinch rush by my window hauling a tree obviously stolen as the story goes. I rushed out in the cold to take his picture, the wind ripped through my thin shirt and almost numbed my fingers but it was worth the shot. I wonder who was behind the mask.....

Leaving work around 5:00, the cold hit like a driven nail. I had to run the engine and did a tour about town to warm up the frigid car so I could nip into the grocery store and not leave the pups in the deep freeze.   I met Mary there and invited her down to hook with me and then I ran into Charlene and invited her as well but quite frankly I won’t be surprised to not hear from either of them because I personally wouldn’t venture out in the cold once home and tucked in for the night. I’ll happily hook in front of a warm fire with pups around my feet.   I hooked three more Santa’s and plan to work on a video on how to finish them to post later this week.

7 Comments

Hookers know how to party!!!

12/5/2014

24 Comments

Wednesday evening we held our annual Main Street Hooker Christmas party at my house. We hoped the earlier date in December would ensure better weather after a storm obliterated last year’s attempt the week before Christmas. We couldn’t have asked for better weather, mild with a bit of light rain that came without a hint of worry for the drive home.

I’m not sure if my kitchen has ever had that much food in it. There wasn’t a square inch of counter exposed after all the main dishes were put out.   Before that, snacks were so plentiful we stuffed ourselves like pitted olives. Enough starters to feed a small country with dips, cheeses, chips, fruit, Mexican Salsa, the hit of the evening brought by Pam with recipe below. And chocolate.....fudge, brownies and Quality Street foiled goodies.    It’s a wonder any belts were left buckled for the drive home.   I know I blew the button on my slacks! It could have taken an eye out as it sailed across the room! So my slacks kept sliding down all evening and I’d hike them up and pull up the zipper which finally blew out as well and they now line the garbage bin, casualties of the battle of the bulge! Like a little piggy, I announced, eat up my little pretties, the more you snack before the meal the more leftovers for me for the rest of the week.   Mother Hubbard would be orgasmic opening my fridge right now, as long as she wore a catcher’s mitt as the food comes flying out from the overstuffed shelves.

Is there anything better than pot luck at a party? The foods are so diverse, with everyone bringing their favourite dishes. There was a ham, meatloaf, spare ribs, chicken, potato salad, did I say potato salads...I would crawl naked over glass for good potato salad and they were both divine.....pasta casseroles, rice dishes, broccoli salad, Greek salad, various leaf salads, on and on it went, a buffet fit for the queens that we are!    Apple crisp and ice cream ended the feast for those who had room left. The evening was a cornucopia of good friends, good food and good times.

We had wine of course, and I made Moose Milk (recipe below) for those who wanted a little festive nip, but if driving, there was an assortment of pop and juices for mixed, non-alcoholic combinations on the rocks.   Not a seasoned drinker by any means, the two small ladles of Moose Milk I had made me slightly tipsy so I might have been a little louder than usual, but who could tell from all the chatter. I’m cute when I’ve had a few so I don’t need to apologize to anyone....right? I did forget the sausage rolls under the broiler but the black parts made them look Cajun so it was win win.

The cherry of the evening was playing our annual game. We all bring a gift to the party and put our names in a hat and I drew the first one to start the proceedings. Shelley Richardson selected the first present off the pile on the coffee table, opened it and then drew the second name and they could either steal her gift or take a new one.   When your name is drawn you have your pick of a new present or steal any of the gifts previously selected. I was shooting pictures and I don’t care how old you are, watching people open gifts is mesmerizing and filled with wonderment.   All eyes were on the present being opened, like children around the Christmas tree waiting on their turn.   There is something magical about gifts, the pretty wrappings, tearing it open, those few moments before the reveal, the anticipation and excitement, and then the wide eyed thrill of finally knowing the secret within.

There were a lot of hoots and hollers. One very desirable gift, hand painted by Sue, was a wicker basket with a top that had antique hooks stenciled on it by using a special technique with a photo copier. I lusted for it, but so did everyone else so it ended up in quite a few laps, unfortunately only temporarily. At one point I got a grab at it and tried to sneak it out of the room to hide it in hubby’s study but Pam sniffed it out and brought it back to the game...foiled again! At one point Ginny sat on it like a mother hen but it was futile to resist the tenacity of the person who wanted to roost on it too, who stole it right out from under her, literally! The box was a pearl in itself, but it also held a cache, a big wad of wool wrapped in a roll that would choke a wood chipper. Tongues were dragging and pupils were dilating over it!

There were some pretty nice bundles of wool that changed hands a bit, really, what better gift at a hooker party? At first, the game started slowly. Being friends, we were all too considerate of one another and silently lusted for their gift, but the initial niceness wore off quickly once the first brave soul broke the ice, then the game got started with a lot of stealing followed by hoots and laughter in this hilarious, cut throat, gift giving swap.   Good fun!

Anyway, I scored a box even if I didn’t get to keep the one in the game as I placed an order with Sue to make them for the shop and I’ll take the one I like best from the pile for my own little prezzie. Ownership should have perks right? They are re-purposed boxes of all shapes and sizes, perfect for storing hooks and rug hooking paraphernalia. If last night was any indication, they should be popular in the shop.

Zesty Mexican Salsa

http://www.recipetips.com/recipe-cards/t--24261/mexican-caviar-6.asp

Moose Milk

1 cup Rum
1 cup Kahlua
1 cup Vodka
4 cups Milk or Eggnog
4 cups vanilla ice-cream

You can sprinkle it with nutmeg and cinnamon when mixed

It's time to pick a winner for September Pattern of the Month. Please vote for the one you like the best! There are only three submissions this time for the prize. 1 chance in 3, good odds to win 3 yards of Dorr Natural! Good luck! Pick 1, 2, or 3 and add a comment.

24 Comments

Cone Santas and stuff

12/2/2014

10 Comments

What a gorgeous hunk of a day yesterday. The front and back doors were wide open to let in the fine weather, trading the yucky old positive ions for new negative ones. I figured days like these are few and far between so I took time off to finish winterizing the yard. I did it all by my lonesome but then looked for a man to help transfer the front screen door with the winter storm so I could hang the Christine wreath.   Mary’s hubby from down the road was very obliging, and even helped with the Plexiglas panels we put in the two screen doors at the back of the house, to cut down on the pounding winter winds ripping through the house. I’m strong with a couple of biceps that might make a few scrawny guys jealous, but tackling a heavy wooden door all by myself might break one of the precious fingernails I’ve been cultivating. Every now and then I let them grow to see how long they’ll flourish before I snap one off in a terrible stubbing accident.

My nails grow hard like guitar picks and would take polish beautifully if I wore it. Since my environmental sickness I’ve only done it once in twenty years for a night out with friends and the rest of the time I only dream of how pretty it looks.   Fingernail polish has been elevated to an art form; I see all manners of patterns and colours in the shop on the ladies who get manicures. Pretty but a lot of upkeep and I have enough to do without suffocating my nails. Nails need to breathe and they turn yellow when trapped under paint. Just another chemical I don’t need seeping into my body.   I never want my immune system to crash again so I’ve resigned to being a plain Jane for the rest of my life. Hanging on to lipstick is my vice and I try not to think about what I’m smearing on my lips, although I know and I feel like a hypocrite, but a gal needs a little something to feel attractive.

I’m preparing the house for our annual hook-in soiree this Wednesday evening. Larry, the cleaning guy, comes that afternoon to do his shtick but I am trying to hang a few decorations. I’ve decided against hunting down a tree, it’s way too early and burning wood heat tends to dry it out prematurely so I might have a bald tree by the big day.   I would rather address and then dress the tree in a relaxed mood, not rushing for a party with all else that needs to be done.

I’m beginning to feel more festive, maybe from hooking and sewing Santa’s. The first weekend of the Father Christmas Festival had a lot of people in town and Saturday was busy at the shop but Sunday was a bust. Friday we were supposed to stay open to 8:00 pm and as in all the previous years no one came in. Maybe 10 people came through the door on Sunday and I spent the time getting Santa’s ready for sewing. By 4:00 I was exhausted from not having a day off and locked the door. There were plenty of people still milling about but the chances were slim I’d see any of them. Rug Hooking is very exclusive which cuts down on the percentage of traffic through the door, so if there are 6 million people in town I would see about a dozen.   If I sold ice cream or trinkets, I’d see them all.

With all the fresh air in my lungs inspiring physical labour, I hauled inside and stacked about half of a chord of firewood, then shifted some furniture from the garage to the house for extra seating for the party. Considering the house cleaning will be taken care of, I’m sitting pretty with little else to do. The meal is a pot luck and all I do is take care of the dessert although I’m still on the fence between English Trifle or Apple Crisp.   English Trifle is fancy and festive, but my mother’s apple crisp recipe is pretty darn fine and I’ve already had a few votes for the latter. At this point, it will come down to a coin toss.

The pattern has three Cone Santas on it. Three sizes:
1 Small that stands 9" tall
1 Medium that stands 12" tall
1 Large that stands 14" tall.
Click this link to my website
http://www.encompassingdesigns.com/seasonal-designs.html

10 Comments

Anne Holmes!

Small, Medium and Large Cone Santa

Zesty Mexican Salsa

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