To lift or not to lift?

During my last two visits to SoCal, I had lunch with an old friend from my working days. We went to the same restaurant both times, and we even sat in the same booth. All of that sameness provided the perfect backdrop for assessing the results of the neck lift she had gotten between our visits. The difference was quite striking. In fact, it got me to thinking.....

Maybe one day I could say adios to my turkey neck.

As we sipped our wine, she related her surgery experience and the not-exactly-a-piece-of-cake recuperation. By the time we got to our second glass of wine I was having second thoughts. Then she said something that really sealed the deal. She said, "If I had it to do over again, I wouldn't do it."

When I got home, I started thinking about possible alternatives for ridding myself of my TN. Exercise? Nah. Preparation H? Definitely not. Magic wand? Perhaps. Then it hit me. The perfect, painless, low-cost solution. And I hopped in the car and drove to Joann's.

I bought a third of a yard of a silky-like fabric in a lovely jungle print.

I've never actually sewn a scarf before. The idea of putting something slippery in the sewing machine kinda scares me. But my Armenian friend--the lady from the writing group--used to be a seamstress and she gave me some pointers. I'm going to give it a try.

If I'm successful I'll be making lots and wearing them everywhere. They won't completely cure my TN, but they'll definitely take the edge off.

Leftovers

It's always nice to have plenty of leftovers in the fridge so you can put off a trip to the grocery store. Although it doesn't take much of an excuse for me to put off that trip. Did you know you can make an omelette out of just about anything?

Now that I'm in a craft-show hiatus, I've decided to finish the food quilt that's been languishing in the pantry for months. After all, it's almost the first of January when hordes of us usually resolve to make better food choices--like peppers, fish, greens, and the occasional jelly bean.

I very wisely gave up on the idea of hand quilting. My frequent companion, Arthur Itis, has taken possession of my main sewing finger and kind of put the kibosh on things. Fortunately, I have a fall-back positon.

I really thought sewing long, straight lines on a quilt sandwich would be a piece of cake. But no. The occasional bumps and detours along the way--which don't even qualify as food products--are causing some nasty indigestion. I keep reminding myself this is a learning project. Thank goodness for Tums.

The short version

Our Christmas was fine--

the salad dressing divine.

Antie Pasto stopped by

just in time for the pie.

Then we all found a place to recline.

Are we there yet?

Five days and counting. I wonder if anyone would notice if I just sat in my recliner and knitted till Christmas?

Things have been busy here, but I did discover a fast and easy.....not to mention cheap...way to make gift tags. It's thanks to these--something I bought long ago when I was into making fabric banners:


These would look much more festive in glittery paper, but I was interested in using what I had and avoiding another trip out into the hectic holiday traffic. I could, of course, glue some glitter on them, but then there's sure to be a nasty vacuuming job. I think they're swell as-is.

I gave the book of stories to the Armenian lady in my writing group and she was very pleased. Unfortunately, I took a picture of the wrong house. I was sure I had the right one--with that nice little shop area on the bottom floor. Tomorrow is the last scheduled meeting of the group, but they've said they want to continue without me while I'm gone--which I'm pleased about and which I'm taking as a compliment.

Big City Girl and Tech Guy will be arriving on Christmas Eve and staying over in anticipation of Santa's visit. TG and BCG sometimes get along like oil and vinegar, so I'm hoping this year we'll have a tasty, well-blended salad dressing.

I'm off now to wrap some gifts. Here's hoping your holidays are festive and full of cheer....and free of annoying salad-dressing issues...

Crafts close to home

Today Mr. Gadget and I took a short ride down the road to visit the annual holiday sale at a local craft center. I also wanted to take a picture of the house that's directly across the street from the center.

But more on that later.

It wasn't long ago that the craft center, which is run by volunteers and was established in the 1950's, ran out of money and had to close. But then some enthusiastic and energetic souls decided they couldn't let that happen and they rallied. Here are some of my favorites from their holiday collection:











And now, more about the house. For many years it was the home of the Armenian lady from my writing group whose stories I've been recording and transcribing. She and her husband lived in the house and had a cleaning and tailoring business down on the bottom level. I've just finished typing and assembling the stories I've recorded so far, and I thought it was important to include a picture of the house that was their home for many years.

I've put the collection in a loose-leaf binder which will allow for more to be added later. I'm going to present it to her tomorrow at our weekly meeting. I hope she likes it.

And now I'm going to address some envelopes. I have no Christmas letter to put in them yet, but all in good time.

Bowled over by the Christmas spirit

Here's the rock all dressed and ready for the holidays. I wasn't sure I'd be able to finish it because, as I said in my last post, I was pretty sure it was a job for a 3-handed person. But I left it on the table overnight and went back to it the next day. And it's as if the muse of unusual crocheted objects had intuited my distress and came to my rescue. I was able to hold the rock cupped in my left hand and work the crochet hook quite easily with my right. Those muses can be very helpful. I don't appreciate them enough. Maybe I'll bake some thank-you cookies.

And then, as if I hadn't wasted enough time, or crocheted enough unusual objects, I decided to dig through my stash for some yarn to make bowls.

Here's the bawdy one to give some perspective.

My plan was to felt both bowls. I was certain the darker one was 100% wool--and thereby feltable--but I wasn't sure about the other. Disappointingly, neither of them felted. Win a few, lose a few. The little one will sit next to my recliner chair and hold my glasses, scissors and Snicker snacks. No. Scratch the Snickers. The other one--which I had planned to gift to Big City Girl and which I had visualized as a lovely blended artsy-looking stripey thing--will sit in the Treehouse and collect stuff.

Yesterday I went up to the old hotel to fetch my unsold crafty items. I had no idea what to expect, but of course I had hoped they would have called me to let me know that everything had flown out the door and there was nothing left to fetch and they would be happy just to mail me a check, but no such luck. I had to make the trek. But I was pleasantly surprised to find that 4 of 8 dolls sold, 8 of 10 felted flowers sold, and several mini sweaters and felted birds were gone. Sadly, I had to bring the gecko home. He's suffering from what I suspect is an inferiority complex and he's lurking behind my recliner in the fake ficus.

So Mr. Gadget and I managed to get the house decorated for Christmas this weekend. Mr. G's job is to put the lights on the tree, and my job is to put everything else on it. For some reason the light-stringing process was especially stressful this year. There may have been a few naughty words that were not in keeping with the holiday spirit. Maybe next year we should trade in our lightless tree for one of those pre-lit ones. Either that or I'm going to get some of those big ear protectors the airport ramp guys wear. Maybe I'll leave a note for Santa.

The well-dressed rock

You would think with December moving along at breakneck speed, I'd be doing my Christmas shopping, or cookie-baking, or putting up the tree and decorations. But no. Instead, I've been spending my time crocheting outfits for rocks.

This is kind of a special rock. I have a weird habit of picking up little rocks from some of the places I visit. I have no idea where most of them are now, but this one has managed to survive on my windowsill. After Christmas I'll tell you the story of this rock. It will be a very short story--maybe two sentences. I'm hoping by then I'll have this rock-crocheting skill mastered. Unlike making people clothes, rock clothes must be finished while the rocks are wearing them. Therein lies the challenge.

Here are some wonderful examples of rock couture. These give me hope that someday I, too, will be able to dress my rocks without having to grow a third hand.

I also find tree sweaters intriguing.

My Grandma Ferna, who taught me how to crochet, passed away over 30 years ago. But if we were to have a conversation today I think it would go something like this:

"Grandma, you'll never guess what I'm working on," I'd say. "I'm crocheting coats for rocks and knitting sweaters for trees."

I'm pretty sure Grandma would say, "Oh, for pity sakes!" Either that or, "My stars!"

Mr. Gadget has his say

It was a beautiful morning in our neck of the woods, so Mr. Gadget and I took a walk around the neighborhood. I had my camera and Mr. G. had a few things on his mind.

"There are just too many lawyers," he said. "They've got their safety instructions, their safety recalls, their safety this-and-thats."

Was that a nest or just a clump of leaves, I wondered?

"Do you know my new can of shaving cream has instructions on it?" he said. "Not in words, but stick-figure instructions--so men of all races, colors, nationalities and creeds can be offended without prejudice," he went on. "I'm surprised those lawyers didn't require instructions in Braille, so even the blind could be offended."

"That's really something," I said as I continued to scope out the trees.

"How can a grown man get to be a man without knowing how to operate shaving cream?" he asked. "After all, it's not rocket surgery."

"Hold on a minute," I told him as I raced across the street to grab another shot.

"It's kind of like when you got your new iron with the safety instructions that said not to iron your clothes while wearing them," he continued.

"And you know what else?" he said--obviously getting torqued-up (that's one of those mechanical-engineering terms he throws around now and then.) "One-a-Day Vitamins."

"Right under the name One-a-Day it tells you the dosage is one per day. I'd like to see a creepy little stick figure choke on one of those fat pills."

As we headed home I told him I had plenty of bird-nest pictures. "I'm pretty sure you're ready to relax and de-torque, and I have a great idea," I said. "You can put the lights on the Christmas tree."

Crawly things

I bought some of this fabric many months ago.


I finally got around to making something out of it.

When I saw this fabric in the store, I knew right away I had to buy it to make a gecko. He's a little more than 12" long and he was a real bear to stuff. Good thing Mr. Gadget got me that 12" hemostat. I was thinking it might be fun to make one with magnets in his feet ...you know, so he could hang on the fridge or sit on the hood of the car. But I don't know if I have another gecko in me. Maybe a snake. Definitely something without skinny little appendages.

I took the gecko to the old hotel for their Christmas show this weekend. I have no idea if he'll sell. I put a good price on him.....since he was such a bear and all. If no one feels inclined to buy him, I'll just bring him home and let him live here for the time being.

It feels so good not to have a doll deadline. I love making them, but I love being done for the season. By the way, here's my second morning lady.

Her pink hair rollers are wooden beads I found at the dollar store--so much easier than having Mr. Gadget cut a dowel into pieces and drill holes through the centers. Can you see the coffee in her mug? It's light-coffee colored fabric with white swirls. They almost turned her away at Dunkin Donuts because she looked so frightful...