~ The Hoisters with the Mostess ~

So ... if you had hoped to be the first guest to stay in my guestroom and/or eat at my new dining-room table ... well, that boat already sailed. Ms. Gee drove down from the Bay Area this weekend and arrived just in time to help hoist my new table (along with Mrs. Gee) up a half flight of stairs. (I'm pretty certain she wishes that traffic jam in Burbank had lasted just a tad longer.) Mrs. Gee and myself actually hoisted the first half flight before she arrived. I am certain it would have made for a straight-to-viral video on You Tube in the category of "people who get hurt, but it's really, really funny" except that there were NO extra hands to man the camera. And let me just say my hoisting abilities were minimal at best, leaving the two of them to bruise themselves mightily while maneuvering the very awkward 140 lb. box. I don't know how many ways I can thank them, but I'm sure going to try.

Now just in case you are asking, "Is she seriously leaving that armoire smack dab in front of that window?", the answer is "Yes. Wanna make something of it?" The armoire was supposed to fit in that nook where the the picture is hanging to the right of the fireplace, but alas, it did NOT fit. Plan B was all we had. I prefer to look at it the way you might look at some other odd furniture placement in a fancy magazine and say, "Wow ... I never would have thought to do that, but it actually works and ... hey ... it got into a fancy magazine, so what do I know?" If someone would choose to put my dining room in a fancy magazine, it would certainly help my case, but for now we'll just go with the general scenerio.

After unpacking oodles of boxes full of knick-knacks that I had no business bringing across state lines, I have judiciously avoided buying new ones. This has caused me great anxiety every time I go to Target and run my fingers across any and all lovelies in their new blue and white collection. A couple of days ago, I finally succumbed and purchased these candles. I have not a single regret, however I do have a plethora of other candles that have now been rendered useless. Uhhhh ... nope ... still no regrets.

One of the things I like best about my dining room is that it's pretty much the only room with an excess of breathing room. The furniture all fits in with space to spare. That will change at the end of the year however, because Ms. Gee and I figured out today that this room is the absolutely natural choice as the place to put the Christmas tree. I am guessing that this makes me the first blog you have read lately that is actually referencing next Christmas.

I. Am. Having. Fun.

Thanks for having fun with me.

I have Issues ...

So ... I am not the first blogger to moan about the fact that Mary Engelbreit's Home Companion has bitten the dust. I have loved this magazine from the beginning and have really grown to love Mary herself. I was first introduced to Mary in October of 1987. While innocently purchasing groceries at my local Safeway, I happened upon this magazine (below) which temporarily put a spell on me and forced me to buy it.

I believe that this was the second issue of Victoria magazine. It's the only 20+ year old magazine still in my possession. And that's all because of Mary.

While thumbing through it, I came upon what I could only describe at the time as the most charming house I had ever laid eyes upon. I was absolutely captivated and went on to learn as much about ME as I could. I will say in all honesty that I never painted checks or cherries in my kitchen, nor did I stick a bunch of bowls on a chair, but I have quilted cherries and I eat cereal every single morning ... from a bowl ... on a chair.

I have watched with interest as she moved ... and moved ... and moved ... again. But I never loved a single one of her houses as much as I loved this one.

So good-bye my magazine friend. In fact good-bye to several of my magazine friends. What the heck is the deal?

Does anyone else have memories of this home of hers? Is anyone else bummed with this stupid-head economic turn? Do you have pictures of checks in your kitchen to soothe my aching heart?

Me? I wanna hoola-hoop.

So ... while the rest of the world is stringing popcorn and making cider ... I'll be sewing new kitchen curtains. It's okay ... really ... 'cause I'm quite excited about my new kitchen curtains. (See KC fabric, above.) And it's not like I'm missing out on any Christmas Spirit in the meantime. I am oozing with Christmas Spirit.

After all ... I have this basket of inspiration that pretty much smells like cider. And this weekend we put all the outside lights up, which includes a lighted tree that is right out of our family room window. So we get to absorb it's beauty in an inside-out kind of way. We also went to the ward (church) party on Friday night where we witnessed (among other wonderful things) 3 grown men dance around and lip-sync to "Alvin and the Chipmunks". I had a moment as I witnessed that where I thought ... "there is no other place in the world that I would rather be right now than here."

And that's some mighty Christmas Spirit.

Also ... and you may need to sit down for this one ... I am almost done with my Christmas shopping. Seriously. I am totally on top of it. Wrapping? Eh ... not so much. No probolemo though. I'll get to it right after that other well-known Holiday tradition.

Making kitchen curtains.

Ooh, Woohoo and ... Boo!

So ... it's been an eventful couple of days ... busy ... exciting ... somewhat humiliating ... fun ... and downright scary.

#1) Before I forget ... Happy Halloween. I wanted to show off these darling treats that I received from my friend Louisa, just because she apparently likes me and she thought they would remind me of Mr. Gee and Miss Dub. (Which they do of course, because they are cuter than words.) The odd thing is that she brought them over yesterday, which was her birthday. I would hang my head in shame (no ... I did not have a little something for her) but I am too busy planting little kisses on these two.

#2) I won another Give Away!! Yeah! From those sweeties over at Jolly Jabber who are the queens of Fabric Fun! Here's the bad part: I won this ... um ... last week and didn't know it until she hunted me down. If you are somewhat new to this blog you may not know that this is the second time this has happened to me. Yep. That's twice this year I've been in need of a good finger-wagging. Aah ... who cares. I Won! And it's fresh new stuff from the Quilt Market in Houston.

#3) Last night, say ... past 11 p.m., as the PDaddy and I were just about to settle down for a long winter's nap, we heard what can only be described as an explosion at the window which was about 2 feet from my head. I had already gone about half way to sleepyland and I nearly bolted across the room. After some careful detective work we were finally able to determine that the tension hung window ... had blown the tension rod. We may not sleep again for years to come.

But that's OK, because I won some fabric (did you hear?) and I'll be playing with it all night long.

And just so you know, I have officially decreed that Halloween (or the day after) is the day to get out last year's Christmas magazines for dreaming and other practical purposes. I thought you'd want to know.

More Stuff

So ... I was perusing my newest issue of Quilt Sampler Magazine when I noticed (I believe on page 27) in the bottom right hand corner that this particular quilt shop was showcasing the Foldover Bag ... a fablulous pattern by my friend Renee. I made a sample of this pattern and taught it at Grandma's Club last year.

I made mine with some fun kid-friendly fabric and even put a pocket inside that was shaped to hold a baby bottle. But, let's be honest ... I have only ever used it to hold ...

... STUFF. As you know, I have a lot of stuff. And I don't mind advertising it. I was quite thrilled to find these letter buttons here and felt they were perfect to make my statement. The pattern is mucho easy and as a small hint I will say that instead of using a stiff interfacing, I used fusible fleece which worked like a dream.

In other ... less crafty ... news: It was 110 here yesterday. Yes ... degrees. Yes ... in May.

Yes ... I have lived to tell the tale.

A girl can dream ...

So ... I want it clear from the start that I am grateful for all my many blessings. I am particularly thankful to live here in the Southwest where the sun shines with abandon.

But ... truth be told ... I have always had this dream about living in the country with lush, green, rolling hills ... and trees. Lots of trees. A view of some languid water in the distance wouldn't be bad either.

At certain times in my life I mistakenly thought that the picture above existed for some people and that I was somehow missing out. Apparently browsing through 3.8 Country magazines a day can cloud the brain into thinking that the simple life is indeed that. No one mentions that those homes need cleaning too or that fences need mending or that cows ... well you get the picture.

So, I have come to terms with the olive tree in my front yard and I appreciate the way it arches over the sidewalk. If I squint when I look at the clear blue water in my backyard I miss the fact that there's a pool cleaner meandering around. And, as for the cows ...

I'll pass.

Do magazines ever cloud your brain? I'm pretty sure it's a real disease.

Do me a Favor ...

So ... here is a picture of the infamous "favors". Pretty much I have Martha and Michaels to thank ... and The Stash. Oh, oh ... and the fact that Valentines is just around the corner and pink (and brown) candies are in abundance. Oh, oh, oh ... and the fact that for some bizarro reason, these particular pink beauties were on sale for 60% off ... even though (as has been previously mentioned) ... Valentines is just around the corner. Call it Kizmet, call it Carma, the "sale-fairies" were working for me that day.

But enough of all that. Let's discuss Martha. I've gotta tell you that I'm not a big fan. I don't like her magazine because I want my magazines to have full page pictures of real-life homes. I'm looking for inspiration in a magazine ... not necessarily step-by-step instructions. And I have never even seen her show.

Is that heresy? (Not to be confused with 'hearsay' ... 'cause it's the honest truth ... I've never watched her show.)

I really like her stuff at Michaels, but I like it best at 60% off. I spent a large part of my day on Christmas Eve touring some of her homes in Southern Cal and I really liked them. (As does this daughter ... and I sure like her.)

So ... let's take a vote: Yeah Martha. Boo Martha. Or ... You-can-come-to-my-home-and-bake-me-something-but don't-ask-to-be-my-best-friend ... Martha.

Let the voting begin.

And So It ... Begins

So ... yesterday afternoon as I was anticipating a flurry of the li'l tricksters at my door, it began to dawn on me that with Halloween almost over, I could ... yes, I really could ... put my heart and soul into Christmas. (Now, don't get me wrong, I have not forgotten Thanksgiving ... I love it dearly ... but I need more than 4 weeks to squeeze all the scrumptious goodness out of Christmas.) I went upstairs and found last years magazines (combined with the new, new Victoria that I received just before our trip) and set them aside on the couch to peruse in between jumps up and down for the little ones (and the too-old-to-be-trick-or-treating teenagers and the parents with 3 month old babies whom I suspect will be dipping into their candy ... but I digress ...)

Then I went to get the mail.

To my absolute delight (and a little bit of shock, I cannot lie) I found among my various pieces of junk mail ... two new Christmas editions. Two pristine, never-before-opened, magical books of joy. (If you are a magazine-aholic as I am, you know exactly what I am talking about.) I put them on the top of the pile and spent a most delicious evening inhaling their goodness. I had more time than I thought I would, because trick-or-treaters were a little scant this year at our house. What was with that?

Oh ... one last peek at Halloween. Here's a pic of li'l Gee with his trusty sidekick, Asher. I have an incredible picture of Asher proudly showing off his super-statis, but I'm saving it for the perfect blog-op in the future. I do not have a picture of Miss Dub because her mother forgot to take her camera to the party. In time I will forgive her. In the meantime, enjoy the grin and please answer the following questions:

Are you ready to think about Christmas?

Do you feel the same way about a new magazine or is it just me?

A-Musing . . .

If you look very closely at the picture below, you can see clearly that the basket on top of my armoire is full of magical fairy dust that . . . glows . . . as all magical fairy dust is wont to do. (It's basically the nature of fairy dust.) The reason that it collects there is because that splendid piece of furniture is where my Muse lives.


Every day before I go to work on any particular project, I gingerly open the door (partly out of anticipation, and partly out of a need to protect myself from a lot of the stuff that is stored in there that could fall on my head) and invite my Muse to sit on the couch with me.


I might just pick one or I might pick a whole stack. I might go upstairs and pick a Muse from the baskets and shelves in my sewing room. But, sooner or later I will settle in to soak up some inspiration and rev up the juices. "Be Creative. Be Yourself", my Muse whispers in my ear. (If you blow up the picture below, she will whisper it in your ear, too.)


The problem is this: Sometimes I soak so long, I get downright . . . pruney. Sometimes I muse for so long, there is no longer time to . . . create anything. Am I alone here, people? Does anyone else have the problem of looking at books or magazines for a long, long time before the thought enters the mind, "Hmmmm, perhaps I should quit reading about sewing and actually . . . sew." Ya think?

I am not necessarily looking for answers. The answer is relatively simple: Get out of The Stacks and into The Stash. I just want to know that I am not alone in my dilemma. I just want to have someone validate that it's okay if I loaf around on the couch from time to time.

I just want to be covered in fairy dust.

the most expensive book EVER!

For a girl who has professed "frugality" on this blog from the get-go, I am not setting a very good example. Take today's topic, for instance. The terms "frugal" and "most expensive" don't generally hang out in the same neighborhoods. Perhaps, I need to explain. By "most expensive" what I actually mean is . . . "really, really, expensive". Once again -- I don't care.

This book was first "published" in the summer of '98. It was actually a craft project of sorts to fill the time while spending 3 weeks away from family to care for family in another state. I brought along a huge stack of magazines and a three-ring binder. I tore out pages of rooms that I liked and placed them in page-protectors in the binder. The purpose of the book was to place it on the book rack on my treadmill where it would lay flat, as opposed to trying to lay a single magazine there which . . . wouldn't. Oddly enough, that's exactly what it has been used for all of these 9 years.

What I hadn't anticipated was that the book would take on a life (not to mention a credit line) of it's own.

I am sure you can see that I would be rather bored looking at those same original pictures after nine years. So, from time to time I change the pictures, depending on my mood and my "phase du jour". I save the old ones in a file and from time to time I weed out the file. I have very specific rules as to what magazines can be ripped through and when. The act of changing out the book has become a hobby unto itself. And unfortunately, like any hobby -- there is a price to pay.

The problem comes when I buy magazines for the very purpose of ripping them apart. Seriously, neither chocolate bars nor the National Enquirer have any hold on me in the checkout line at Safeway. It's the Better Homes and Gardens Special Interest Publications that give me a tic as I hand over my debit card and grab the latest issue before my total has been wrung. I drive home on an adrenalin rush, barely manage to put away the frozen foods, and sit down to edit the "book". The bigger problem is that I sometimes find only one or two pictures to my liking (I'm quite picky) and they average out to $2-$3 a page.

Hence . . . the most expensive book EVER.

After nine years I have learned to flip through my magazines before purchasing them and I have become a little more discerning in my choices. But let's face it, any hobby that gets you on the treadmill for nine years can't be that bad.