Send a bartender

My therapy sessions are going well. I've made quite a bit of progress on the blue chicken, and have traced the other two chickens onto fabric for future sessions. It never hurts to have a little project lying-in-wait in case of an emergency.

Between stitches I've been watching the Olympics. My favorite athlete is Apolo Ohno, or Apolo 7 as he is now known. He always appears cool as a cucumber. And I love those colorful bandanas he wears. Maybe I could get Mr. G to wear one so I wouldn't have to be sewing those terry-cloth headbands that snow all over the house.

So life has served me up a few lemons lately.

I know I should be making lemonade, or better yet--lemon meringue pie--but what I really feel like doing is hurling them. I think I've come up with a workable solution though. Mr. Gadget and I will be heading out to sea in a little over a week. Once we're out past the 12-mile limit, I don't think the lemons can get us. Well, except for the ones in those big paper-umbrella drinks.

Quilt show

I'm not much of a quilter myself, but I do enjoy going to a good quilt show, and there just happens to be one right here in my neighborhood this weekend. This cat quilt was one of my favorites. I found it very amusing. The eyes are buttons and the whiskers are rick rack.

If I was a quilter, I'd use bright colors like this. And if I had no worries about what my neighbors would think, I'd live in an orange house with purple shutters and a polka-dotted front door.

I'm sure the quilter who made this one had fun looking for turtle-shell fabric. She probably has a good turtle story too. Kind of reminds me of Tech Guy's car trip around the U.S. with his pet turtle. I've always wondered if his iguana was jealous.

This is one of 12 squares that make up the quilt. It's a crazy quilt with appliques. The tree blossoms were made with ribbon embroidery. It was assembled and stitched by the ladies who run Piecemakers--the store I visited a few weeks ago in Orange County. It was photographed for their 2002 calendar.

I love the colors in this one. You're probably wondering if these quilts inspired me to take up the craft. They did not. I'm more of a small-craft gal. I like something I can work on in my lap and throw in a little tote bag and take along with me. I'd love to own lots of wonderful quilts, but I don't think that's gonna happen. I'm quite content, however, to wile away my hours in the Treehouse with the silly characters who live there. We don't always get along, but at least we speak the same language...

Barnyard therapy

There's nothing like some chicken embroidery therapy to soothe your frazzled nerves. It's so much less expensive than prescription drugs--or a good bottle of Scotch--and there's no annoying hangover. This week Joann's is having a sale on floss, so if you're thinking of signing up for some therapy of your own, hurry on down. Here's a little tutorial for you. Think of it as my small contribution to your sanity.

First, find a picture of something that strikes your fancy. A drawing is the best, and one with simple shapes is even better. Enlarge it on a copy machine. I think I used 175% for mine. You'll have to play around till you find the right size.

Tape the enlarged copy to a sunny window, then tape a piece of white cotton fabric over it--allowing extra space around the edges so you'll have plenty of room to accommodate an embroidery hoop. (I'm just doing the middle chicken.) I usually use white Weaver's cloth. It's available at Joann's too. Mine was $4.99/yard, and--no surprise--it was on sale, so I couldn't use my once-in-a-blue-moon 50% coupon. Trace all around the design with a pencil. I'm usually able to stitch over the lines, but you can always use one of those marking pens with ink that rubs out with a damp cloth.Remove the fabric from the window and use your pencil (or marking pen) to fill in any areas you missed. I drew the chicken dots on afterwards by just referring to the drawing. Some things don't have to be precise. Chicken dots, for instance. Oh, and remember to remove the copy from the window--or else the neighbors will have even more reason to wonder about you....

Now it's all ready for the embroidery hoop. If you're smart, you'll take your picture with you to the thread store so you can match the colors. I forgot to take mine along, but I discovered I have a pretty good color memory. I came very close. And, like the chicken dots, the colors don't have to be precise either. It's just a fun therapy project.

Now, get up off your chair and go get yourself some therapy supplies. You'll feel so much better after you've stitched a chicken.....or a pig, or whatever strikes your particular fancy. My bill in the mail....

Anybody got a GPS?

I finished a couple of my crocheted flowers and pinned them on my hat.

A plain hat is perfectly acceptable, but a flowered hat is so much more festive.

The same could be said for Mr. Gadget's gym bag.

Maybe I won't tell him I've pinned a flower to it. This could turn out to be a great practical joke. Especially if his pretty bag is sitting on the gym floor, right next to him while he's lifting a big, manly barbell. On second thought, maybe this is not a good idea. It might be a very long time before he'd be willing to open another jar for me, or retrieve something from a high shelf.

So the Brothers Gadget (good thing I didn't say the Brothers Grimm) had a nice visit. Whenever they get together there are usually only two topics of conversation: 1) cars, and 2) humorous stories about their growing-up years. I'll spare you the car stuff. But they really got to laughing about how their mother used to throw shoes at them, or hit them with wooden spoons, whenever they came in past curfew--and sometimes a little tipsy. I've heard these stories before, but I never let on. I'm frequently in need of jar-opening assistance.

Late yesterday morning we all decided to go out for a Korean lunch. My sister-in-law is Korean--as I've mentioned before--so we put her in charge of ordering the food. We picked a restaurant nearby, and we set out on foot. The weather was great and we all like to walk. And wouldn't you know, all three of the Brothers Gadget were clueless about how to find the place. While they all have a fancy GPS in their fancy cars, they're foolish on foot. Finally one of them flagged down a passerby and ask for directions. Fortunately, this guy knew where the place was. He said he and his Korean wife eat there all the time. By the time we finally got there, we were so hungry we ate everything in the 23 little dishes. But only one of us had any idea what exactly we were eating. Sometimes it's probably just as well not to know.

Chickens

Sometimes something comes in the mail, sort of out of left field, that begs to be embroidered. I think I will start with the blue one in the middle with the cute tail feathers. Gotta love a chicken who's not afraid to show his true colors.

Must run for now. The Gadget brothers will be here soon. Word has it that they are creeping along in some L.A. freeway traffic. And you know what I say to that? Better them than me....heh...heh....

Resurrected

My computer has returned from the dead, thanks to some magic from Manila and some schmoozing with certain customer service people by none other than Mr. Gadget. He's good at schmoozing. He used to work in the corporate world.

So now I'm back in business, uncensored, in my quiet little corner of the back bedroom, and I finally have some knitting craftiness to share.

I used 3 skeins of Berroco's Softwist--for those of you who knit and are interested. I love it and especially like its ability to camouflage the dreaded turkey neck. I only wish I had purchased more of this yarn on my last visit to Yarn Heaven. Maybe I should really be calling it Knitters' Heaven. I plan to wear it while watching news about the east coast blizzard on the Weather Channel. It's enough to give me the shivers.

I've also been doing some very boring sewing. You can stop reading now if you'd rather, and come back next week--after the Auntie Pasto and Gadget brothers visit--when there is likely to be something more interesting.

I've been making Mr. Gadget some sweat bands for his gym workouts.

He says the sweat bands I make him are superior to the ones he buys at the big sports store. I'm pretty sure he's just saying that. He'd much rather shop for a new car than exercise gear. And he knows I'm always looking for an excuse to go to a fabric store, so he probably assumes it's one of those win-win situations. Do you know how terry cloth sheds? We've got half an inch of snow in the house. Good thing I've got my new scarf.

And finally, I shortened the new bedskirt. That was a mind-numbing task if ever there was one. I'm glad it's over. I think I need a break. Maybe I'll go down to the beach and see if the surf's up. And on my way home I'll see if I can find a snow shovel....

Gardening

I've been doing some gardening with my crochet hook. It's so much less messy than digging in the dirt. These little posies still need some finishing work plus a crocheted leaf or two. Then I'll sew a pin on the back so they'll be suitable for adorning something--a big hat, a purse, or maybe even Mr. Gadget's gym bag.

I have some sad news to report. My computer has expired. It may have suffered a cardiac episode of some kind following a recent power dip in the area. Mr. Gadget tried hooking it up to life support, but his efforts were futile. We've put an emergency call in to Tech Guy, but apparently there are more fun things to do than help your clueless parents with their computer issues. Meanwhile, I'm using Mr. G's computer. I suppose I'll have to be especially careful now when I talk about him here on the blog since he and I and it are mostly sharing the same room. I'll have to remember not to make any more humorous jabs at his various idiosyncracies just in case he's hovering over my shoulder.

This coming week will be a busy one with preparations underway for a visit from two of Mr. Gadget's brothers. I thought it would be a great time to invite Auntie Pasto for another visit too, and she has graciously accepted. Maybe she can help me keep the boys in line. They've been known to misbehave--especially when there's wine involved.

Shopaphobic

I hate to shop. And sometimes I'm even scared to shop. It wasn't so long ago that I was driven to submit a complaint to customer service at our local mall about the proprietors of those push-cart-kiosk thingies that seem to be increasing in numbers like carnival games along the midway. They always seem to delight in shoving a scented heating bag in my face or badgering me to answer their questionnaires.

"Yes, we do get quite a few complaints," said the nice lady behind the desk, after I told her I found it quite annoying to be hounded like that right in my own zip code. That was months ago and nothing has changed.

And while I'm at it, there's another thing about shopping I find frightening. Must the sales people bombard me with receipts? Just the other day I went to one of those big mall stores to buy a new pair of jeans. Just one pair. Just jeans. No sooner had I swiped my credit card than I was blitzed.

Next time I'll wear a flak jacket....or at the very least, a hard hat.

Well, enough of the scary part. Now for the hating part. Since we're having guests soon here at the Calcondo, it seemed like a good idea to shop for a queen-sized comforter set for the guest room so we could retire the twin-sized bedspread we've been making-do with for months. I wasn't dreading the task too much. After all, this is the time of year for white sales.

But I soon discovered that all the bed sets on sale are in either over-the-top zippy colors, or they're bland enough to double as shrouds. After days and days of searching--and countless hours taken away from my crafting pursuits--I found something I deemed acceptable.
I will choose not to look at this and think bordello. Instead, I will think Holiday Inn. I only hope our guests don't get the wrong idea and think they have to check out before noon.

Rescue

It looks like the firemen finished their shopping and cooking and had time left over to stop by our complex to resusitate the flagpole. It's been naked and lifeless for over a week....apparently due to some sort of malfunction. But those resourceful firemen with their long ladders, and their vast experience retrieving cats from trees, have come to the rescue. Although I must say they did not come to rescue our cat from a tree many years ago. I was forced to be resourceful on my own. I found a long pole of some kind in the garage. Maybe it was two poles that I lashed together (she was up there pretty high). That, along with a plastic basket and lots of twine, did the trick. And maybe it helped that she was hungry.

Sparkle the cat went on to live many more years--long enough to go deaf and put the fear of God in me with her jarring, loud, obnoxious meowing. Which would prompt Mr. G to question me as to why I rescued her all those years ago. And those questions came up again when she developed arthritis and I built her a handicapped ramp up to our bed.

I hope you know I'm just funning with the firemen. I have the utmost respect for the work they do. I even have a cousin who's a fireman. I wonder if he has any good recipes?

So I've been lagging a little with the blogging. Seems like stuff has a way of getting in the way. Not to mention, a little hand-wringing from afar. Oh, and the fact that my computer is now in a room that is cold. And I left all of my warm clothes on the east coast. I suppose I could turn on the heat, but this is California, after all. Who turns on the heat? I did just discover some nice warm socks in the back of a drawer. Have you ever noticed how when your feet are warm, you're warm all over? I should be back to regular blogging business soon. I have a few blog ideas in mind, and if I ever run out....well, there's always the firemen.

Four-alarm goodness

When you see one of these parked in front of your neighborhood grocery store, it can only mean one of two things. Either there's an emergency going on inside, or......the firemen are on a mission to purchase ingredients for some kind of tasty delight they play to prepare in the firehouse kitchen. This morning it was the latter, and the guys were really hyped-up. I guess they were planning to try a new recipe.

Did you know it takes 4, or maybe even 5, firemen to handle this buying task? There's one to push the cart, one to toss the items in the cart, one to cross the items off the list, and one to pay attention to the radio just in case there's an emergency or some such thing. I briefly considered asking them if I could stop by for a quick bite. But I don't think members of the general citizenry are allowed to just pop in for this sort of thing. Darn.

There's not much going on here at the Calcondo other than witch heads. I painted the hat on witch #1 and started sculpting witch #2.

On Monday I'll be driving down to the OC to have lunch with an old friend I used to work with. We haven't seen each other in decades. We'll meet here first. I probably wouldn't brave the SoCal freeways just for lunch, but with a fabric store thrown in (with yarn even) I'll scare up some courage. Let's just keep that between us, ok?

Well, I'd better move along. It's time to think about dinner. On tonight's menu: broiled Atlantic salmon, fluffy white rice, and four-alarm broccoli.

We're goin' to the dogs

So the sun finally came out after days and days of rain, and I can't explain why exactly but I suddenly got the urge to break out the clay.

It's a witch head, of course, and this time I remembered the warts....a large one on her chin and a smaller one on her nose. It's never too early to think about Halloween, is it?I decided to put a clay hat on her. I still have to make a hat band, and some kind of hat embellishment....but I have a plan and I'll get to it later today. After she's all sanded and painted, I'll try gluing on some hair just under the hat brim. I may not make as many witches this year as last. My leftovers are haunting the treehouse.

Yesterday I set out to visit one of my favorite little gift shops, but a traffic light malfunction at a really big intersection nearby convinced me to make a detour. I ended up at the book store, where I had fun browsing through this:

I almost bought it, but then I remembered I really don't like being elbow-deep in flour and water paste. Finger-deep in crafty clay is much more my speed. I did pick up a couple of good tips about painting, as well as a good way to install teeth. The author mentioned he has a butcher friend who supplies him with cow teeth for some of his largest monsters. Good thing my creatures are small so I have no need to consider that grisly option.

And from the funny things I see while I'm out and about file, the other day I was in Joann's picking up some muslin. I know, I know. I go there entirely too often. But I just can't function in my crafty little world without muslin. Anyway, I had just taken a number at the cutting table when I happened to notice a woman nearby who was pushing one of these:

The manager came over to remind her that dogs were not allowed in the store, and that there was a sign on the front door to that effect. She hadn't noticed it, she said, and she mentioned that she had never had a problem taking her dog into other stores. She continued to stand in line with the pooch. Apparently he'd already taken a number.....

Squirrel hunting

I may have related this story before. I had a friend in Connecticut whose husband used to say there was only one thing that worked to calm him down, even his keel, set him straight, and realign his tires from the stresses and strains of everyday life. Squirrel hunting.

This is my version of squirrel hunting. I've already been to two fabric stores--I didn't bother to mention this but I'm sure you figured as much--so I'm well-stocked with ammunition.

My plan is to set up an anatomy lab wherein I will make body parts. These will be easy to transport back to the treehouse for use later in my dollmaking assembly line. But first I'm going to make a few doll outfits. I think that yellow sunflower print will be just the thing for a busy bee. The craft fair lady at the old hotel is threatening to have a spring show this year (the first annual) and I want to be ready. And since I'm always hopeful that my creations will "fly right out the door," I might as well make a few of the flying kind. It couldn't hurt to give them an edge over the competition.

The rain continues.

And as we like to say when it rains in Connecticut, "If this was snow we'd have 50 feet by now."

A good read

For the last few months I've been writing a story with my 8-year-old niece who lives in Wichita. I would write a section, mail it to her, she would write her part and mail it back.
I finally finished the story yesterday, put it in a colorful binder, and mailed it off to her. It would have been done much sooner had I not decided to embellish it with some illustrations.

I may have gotten a little carried away.

I hope she likes it. I also hope she might want to do another story sometime in the future.....but only after I've had a little clay fix or even a cruise.

So Mr. Gadget and I have been busy doing some re-arranging of furniture here in the Calcondo, and some fix-it jobs. We moved a rattan sofa from the master bedroom to the living room, and banished an old recliner chair to the garage for temporary storage. Then we moved my computer and table into the master bedroom, and put a small 4' x 2' table in the guest room for my sewing machine. Mr. G then assembled a comfy steno chair for my computer area, and a cute little set of drawers (Office Depot) for my crafty supplies.

You're probably thinking it's all about me. Not really. Next, he replaced two toilet seats. They were almost antiques--which was fine with us, but we feared our guests might look askance. Mr. G, who normally utters more than a few expletives when doing jobs around the house, was remarkably quiet when he discovered the two jobs would only require the use of a wrench and not the dreaded hacksaw.

And did I mention, we've had rain? Yesterday I decided to forge the back patio on my way to the car to do a few errands. After all, it was only rain.

I got as far as the first intersection, found it flooded and nearly impassable, decided I really didn't need stew meat, and returned home. It was nothing a good rain plow couldn't have handled....

Tourists

I read in this morning's newspaper that there were large waves breaking along the beach nearby, so Mr. Gadget and I decided to go down there and have ourselves a look-see. The big surf is a result of a "very large westerly swell" according to the paper, and should subside later today.

I guess if I was any kind of a good blogger, I would have gone in the water with my big floaty thing to provide you with some perspective. But the lifeguards were vigilant in keeping surfers, and large fluffy women with big floaty things, out of the water. So you'll just have to take my word for it that those were some big waves.

After looking at the waves, we took a long walk. I was very sad to see this:

It's an unlucky barkrat that didn't make it across the road. Look how close he is to the crosswalk too. If only he had been smart and walked across there. California drivers are very good about stopping for anyone, or anything, in a crosswalk. It's a wonder I've survived all these years living on the east coast. Hardly anyone stops for a pedestrian back there. I have to admit, I've gotten slack about it myself--but only for fear of being rear-ended...and running into the pedestrian in the process. You'd think the police would ticket people who do this, but these incidents rarely happen close to a Dunkin Donuts.

Mr. Gadget walked up to the Asian market this afternoon for a couple of our favorite salads, and I asked him to please pick up my favorite--daikon radish. You may remember, I made some myself a while back. Although it's delicious to eat, it does begin to give off an unpleasant aroma after a couple of days. It's like kimchi that way--a favorite of Mr. G's. So now he's gone off to the gym and I decided to have a little of my radish salad as an afternoon snack. And even though I opened and closed the container quickly, now the condo smells bad. So I'm thinking maybe the only reasonable solution is to throw the whole mess down the garbage disposal and stick strictly to chocolate from now on for all my snacking needs.....

Philosophy lesson

Mr. Gadget and I arrived at the Calcondo on Saturday right on schedule. The threatening

snowstorm blew through quickly and left us with a beautiful day for travel. It was 16 degrees when we left Connecticut and 74 when we landed around noon. I'm finally starting to thaw.

One of the first things I do after we arrive is head to the grocery store.....where the produce section never fails to impress. I purchased some nice navel oranges for Mr. Gadget.

The man has no patience for red lights or slow talkers, but he can devote big chunks of time to skinning an orange, and after skillfully removing the peel in a single motion he'll very meticulously carve away every last bit of the white stuff.

"Why do you do this?" I asked. "You get antsy waiting for bread to toast. Besides that, I've heard the white stuff is good for you."

"It's really a philosophical matter," he told me. "There's the essence of orange, and then there's the essence of orange peel."

For some reason I'm reminded of his lecture on fleece.

"The white stuff goes with the peel," he said. "It's the part of the peel that sticks to the orange." Then, just before popping a big juicy section in his mouth, he said something really peculiar.

"Don't even think of getting me started on orbs."

Soon we'll be over our jet lag and things will be back to normal.

Testing, testing

I know my camera takes videos. I know this because once I hit the video button by mistake and when I reviewed the pictures I noticed one had come to life. Have I mentioned I'm not one to read directions? But then my friend put a video on her blog, and I just couldn't allow her to show me up. I was also pretty sure I could google the instructions. That was so much easier than trying to figure out where I actually hid, I mean put away the manual for when I had more time to read it.

So here's hoping this one takes. By the way, I took this one on purpose. It's just a test. Please enjoy a short glimpse of Tech Guy and Big City Girl playing a game of dining table ping pong on Christmas. And by the way, I was not drinking spiked egg nog.

So Mr. Gadget and I are preparing to cross over. No, not that kind of crossing over. We'll soon be crossing over the country to the warm, balmy weather of southern California. I hear it's in the low 70's out there. It's mostly in the low 20's here, with more snow in the forecast. Can we make our escape before that happens? That's the big question.

After we get there, though, I might decide to take more videos. Some that will give you a real sense of our SoCal lifestyle: the ants making themselves at home, the curmudgeons posting more rules, the barkrats congregating, and maybe even those thieves who put a quarter in the newspaper dispenser and take the whole stack. Now there's a pet peeve that makes me even angrier than fruit stickers....

The fine art of whistling

This is day two of a two-day event during which Mr. Gadget and I play host to a painting crew that has come to patch, sand, spackle, and repaint little blemishes in the walls and ceilings of our new condo. But really, with the lights down low you can hardly see them. Still, it's nice to know all the little nail pops and gouges will be a thing of the past....like last year's diet plan. And it would be nice if they'd make this the first annual, but that's not gonna happen.

What is worth noting about these men is that they whistle while they work. I can't remember the last time I heard someone who liked their job well enough to whistle while doing it. Refreshing. I do believe whistling is fast becoming a lost art.

The last whistling I heard....well, I should say heard about....was when Mr. Gadget was working in his basement office in the old house and he came upstairs, looking slightly perplexed, to report that he'd heard whistling down there--even though he was alone.....and wasn't doing the whistling himself.

"Oh," I said, "it was probably your mom. Remember when she told us she had never ever whistled because, as a child, she was told it was unladylike?" Mr. G's demeanor quickly changed from perplexed to unsettled.

"She probably just wants to let you know she's fine, and that she is happy because in Heaven she can whistle to her heart's content."

So while the painting crew is here, happily whistling and spackling, Mr. Gadget and I are endeavoring to stay out of their way.
I've been working on a new clay piece--an angel for a friend's birthday. I don't think this friend reads the blog, but if she does....Sandi, she'll be heading down to Texas soon.

I used an empty nail polish remover bottle as a base, and put a covering of aluminum foil over the cap for the head. My new clay tools were very useful, especially the sharp knife edge for cutting out the wing and collar shapes.

I've always admired Mexican art, especially paper mache. Much of it has a primitive look, and as you know, I like all things primitive. It's a way for me to justify the little flaws in my work....those flaws that are so important for adding character....

I just realized the poor thing doesn't have nostrils. I'd better hurry and paint some on because she's got plenty of work to do. It's going to be a while before she can join her friends in that heavenly whistling realm.

When good friends turn on you

Remember I was just talking about getting reacquainted with the green sweater-in-progress and how it was behaving nicely and seemed so cordial?
Come to find out, it was just a pretend friend. It turned on me. So I had no choice but to exact some revenge.
I don't really feel like divulging the dirty details right now. Maybe someday.

And remember I told you that Mr. Gadget and I had plans to order a pizza and have a pleasant yet early champagne toast on New Year's Eve?

Well, it didn't turn out quite that way. (Notice he's wearing his scarecrow shirt?) Instead of calling for a pizza delivery, I suggested we go out to have it....since the restaurant is just a short ways down the street. Might as well let someone else do the dishes. He reluctantly agreed. No sooner had we been seated and placed our order than people with noisy children came in, looked around at all of the empty tables, and sat down right next to us. So I asked the waitress to box everything up for take-out, and back we went to our nice quiet condo. Loading a few dishes in the dishwasher is a small price to pay for quiet it turns out.

We were much too full after that to have our toast, so the champagne is still chilling. But we did manage to stay up to see the ball drop. Even a pair of old foagies like us can enjoy the midnight festivities....as long as one of us manages to stay awake long enough to poke the other one with a nice sharp elbow.