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.

It's not about the cat

Mr. Gadget and I will order pizza for dinner tonight and stay in for a quiet New Year's Eve. He tells me he has a bottle of champagne chilling, so we'll have a toast and hit the sack about ten. Did you know that 10:00 p.m. is the new midnight?

My 91-year-old aunt (dear-ol'-dad's older sister) recently wrote her memoirs and she sent me a copy for Christmas. I started reading them yesterday while I sat in a chair at the hair salon waiting for my hair color to process. They were so engrossing I missed out on all the gossip.

This year I kept a list of all the books I read. I finished one this morning for a grand total of 34. Some of my favorites were The Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and Married: A Fine Predicament. Next year I'll go for 50.....or maybe 35.

Tomorrow will be my 4th blogiversary. It tickles me to think I've been doing this for so long. It's one of the most fun things I do. The world has become a serious place, and I like to think I've carved out a small slice of silliness. Thanks for coming along!

Levitation

I'm learning the rules of clay, but seem to be forgetting the laws of gravity.

See what I mean? He's hovering. Maybe he's been observing the bat, I mean Mr. Gadget's new remote-controlled helicopter. He seems to be able to do this without batteries, so at least he'll be cheap to keep.

His backside is strictly G-rated.

Here's a close-up of his face. He's in need of more sanding before I do the painting. I think he'll be a perfect treehouse pet.

This is the time of year when I get a hankerin' to knit. I find it relaxing after a frantic, I mean busy holiday season. It's hard to justify buying more yarn when I have several unfinished projects in the closet, so I've pulled out the green pullover.

I don't think I named this particular sweater, probably because it was behaving nicely. I have all the knitting done and just have the seaming to do--not my favorite part. It will have a rolled edge--rather than ribbing--around the neck, sleeves and bottom of the sweater.

Meanwhile, I have all kinds of ideas for more clay projects. And I have lots of clay. And clay tools. I promise I'll keep the levitating to a minimum.

The Christmas bat

A wonderful Christmas was enjoyed by all in the Macaroni household.....well, except there was that one small, unfortunate incident. A Christmas bat.

Maybe it wasn't a bat exactly....although it was the right color and about the right size. And a quick glance had me running for cover.

It was Mr. Gadget's new remote-controlled helicopter--a gift from Tech Guy--and it came with many batteries and no echo-location abilities.

After our gift-opening, pancake breakfast, a rousing round of Scrabble Slam, and a quick game of Ping Pong-on-the-go,

I told TG and BCG it was time for their treasure hunt. They could hardly contain their excitement. They were most impressed when I told them I had worked diligently to produce rhyming clues.

"Look all around for some Christmas twins.

Two old guys who are next of kins.

Their eyes do twinkle and their laugh is jolly,

But one of these guys is enough, by golly!"

"If you're very observant

and you've noticed our steeples,

you might see one similar

that's inside with the peoples."

Oh, and see that little chest the steeple and the Merry Christmas blocks are sitting on? It has many drawers, so I made use of it too.

"If you like crossword puzzles

this will make you frown.

It's an un-crossword puzzle

that's 3 across, 5 down."

Tech Guy and Big City Girl were thoughtful enough to realize I'd probably need some crafting time once all the hoopla was over, so they gifted me with laser-guided scissors, more clay, and clay tools.....so I'm going up to the treehouse and I'm not coming down till New Years....

Merry Christmas!

What to do when the baking's done

I finished my Christmas baking--and my good vanilla--and was wondering how I might recycle the empty bottle. Seemed a shame to throw away a cute little bottle like this.

He needs a few more body parts and some fine tuning, but he will make a great pet when he's done. One of those quiet pets that doesn't need much care. A project like this is just the thing to keep a person who might be prone to holiday stress from wringing her hands or worse--heading to the fridge for some fudge...

The last straw

So while Mr. Gadget and I were having a nice quiet lunch today in our sunny kitchen on our still-new barstools, we had the following conversation:

"I wonder why my arms are so itchy?" he asked, assuming as he usually does that I am the storehouse of all such knowledge. "Maybe it's just the dry air."

"Could be," I said.

"And it almost feels like something is walking around on my head."

"Boy, that's really weird," I said.

Then, as I glanced over at his shirt--the purple and gray plaid flannel one--it dawned on me.

"It's probably because you're wearing the scarecrow's shirt," I told him.

"What? Oh, so now I'm only good enough for scarecrow hand-me-downs?" he said with complete disdain as he marched off to the bedroom to change his shirt.

"I washed and ironed it," I assured him. "I thought I had rid that shirt of all traces of scarecrow."

"Do I have any other items in my closet that have been previously worn by a scarecrow? he asked.

"No, that's it," I said. "But I was considering your nice blue blazer with a red-striped tie for next year's guy. Of course, I would have asked your permission first....

A serving of randomness with a side of festive fotos

Yesterday we had a few old-neighborhood neighbors over for some holiday cheer. We were hoping to hear lots of juicy gossip, but were sadly disappointed. Chalk it up to that good ol' New England reserve.We waited patiently all day yesterday for the big snowstorm headed our way. The weather folks, who get high on hype and for some unknown reason must name everything, had dubbed it the Winter Wallop. By the time we went to bed, there were one or two flakes. This morning there's a nice little dusting of powdery stuff.

I forgot to mention, I did fairly well at the old hotel craft fair. I sold 7 of the 14 dolls I submitted. The man who bought my cat at the last fair quickly snatched up the cat I made for this one....so I will take a whole gaggle of cats next time. Oh, and the Santas in the Christmas tree sold well in spite of my concern. It's a good thing too, since they chose to use my doll pedestals for jewelry displays.

Tech Guy arranged for one of Big City Girl's friends to stop by her office last week with a big package wrapped festively in newspapers. I hope it was the comics at least. "Don't open it now," he told her. "You'll know when the time is right." About an hour later the FED-EX man came with an overnight package. It was a tortoise. It's new house was in the wrapped box. She named it Shelby. I hope Shelby likes the big city.

I'm done with my shopping, but haven't finished my Christmas letter. I'll get to it right after I finish this blog post. I may need a cup of coffee and a piece of my chocolate biscotti first. It's well known that chocolate is very effective in jump-starting the creative process.

Just how many bowl games can there be, I wonder? I think I heard Mr. Gadget say yesterday, "One down, 33 to go."

This afternoon we'll go over to our next-door neighbors' condo for an open house. It's nice not to have to travel far for a party in this weather. No potential for fender benders; just a small possibility for bruised knees. I'll take some homemade fudge and maybe some biscotti--if there's any left. It may take me a while to finish the Christmas letter.....

Happiness is a red sled

Got snow?

Not everyone around here is disappointed to see snow.

He's been badgering me to find his sled--his little red sled. The one I packed away before the move. I promised him I'd find it tomorrow. I'll start looking first thing in the morning because I'll do anything to stop his bone-chilling nagging. Then I'm going to search the internet for a pattern for a claw-fringed scarf. I want one in the worst way.

Yeah, I know. More cheeks. I wasn't going to add those, but what if he falls off his sled? He'll need a little padding to soften the blow. I know this from personal experience. When I was a kid I lived on a hill, and dear ol' dad built me one of those little coaster cars. I got going too fast one day and slid right off. Good thing I had a little extra padding. In fact, that padding was so beneficial I decided it might not be a bad idea to always have a goodly supply...

What I'm doing instead....

....of what I should be doing, which is working on our Christmas cartoon and newsletter, or cleaning Mr. Gadget's bathroom. Oh, he has those little pop-up disinfectant sheets for a quick wipe-up, but it's not the same as me doing a more thorough and complete job with my vast array of cleaning products. And just between you and me.....well....no, never mind. He's taking me out to dinner so I'll spare the pig humor.

So here is Mr. Fringy Snowman. I can't seem to make a clay scarf with fringe that doesn't look like a wild animal claw, but I will keep practicing. Paint will help too. With each clay project, I learn a little more about the process. Since this picture was taken, I've partially built up the base and included some clumps of snow to weight the whole piece down a bit, since he had a tendency to fall backward....what with all of his exuberance.

And while I had my hands in the clay, I came up with a great idea for the Christmas cartoon. Funny how the muse never comes calling while I have my scrub brush in the toilet....

Snow....thanks, now that's enough!

We got a little snow overnight. I'd say 5 or 6 inches. It's supposed to rain the rest of the day, so soon it will be a muddy, slushy mess. For some reason, we've been red-flagged. I have no idea why, unless it's a warning to others about our vicious attack dog.

Mr. Gadget is not pleased that the plow driver did not move our garbage and recyclables to clear the snow from the entire driveway.

But I say he should go out there and shovel this little patch of snow himself....so he doesn't forget where he came from.

Yesterday I stitched up a runner for the dining room table.

This was easy to do. I measured the length, from point to point, and the width I wanted for the finished runner. I made a pattern out of newspaper, allowing for 1/2" seams, then traced around it (actually I used a straight edge for most of the length). I stitched all around, leaving an opening (long enough to get my hand inside) for turning. Then I turned it, pressed it, and hand-sewed the opening closed.

I started another clay piece.....this time a snowman.
I haven't decided yet whether he'll do part-time plumbing work. I suppose I could make the cute little cheeks my signature. Then, years from now, if one of my pieces shows up on the Antiques Roadshow, there will be no doubt it's a genuine Macaroni.

And finally, I saw a fun movie last night. It was definitely a chick flick, so Mr. G moved as far away as he could....to the room with the other TV where he could watch science shows and a smattering of football. The only actor in the movie I recognized was Andy Griffith and, I must say, the man has come a long way from Mayberry.

Well, gotta run. I'd better go rein in my vicious doggie.

Need a plumber?

The clay Santa is finished and I'm very pleased with how he came out, especially considering he's my first attempt at doing a project with an armature. I'm not crazy about the blue mittens. I think they'd look better in a different color but I couldn't decide which one. So I've decided to just leave them blue, rather than try to re-paint them and screw up the works. We'll just call him the blue-mittened Santa.

Here's his back side, although from this angle you really can't appreciate his cute red cheeks.

Christmas Tree Lady was a no-show at the trim-a-tree party. I had so hoped she would be there. I did introduce myself to Porch Poker Lady, and I showered her with compliments on her gardening skills. At some point during the course of the evening, or maybe it was more like six months ago, I realized that word of the blog might eventually get out and it would probably be wise for me to be nice. Maybe I should invite them both to tea...

On Sunday morning Mr. Gadget and I took a ride to check out the craft show. I was curious to see if my dolls were flying out the door. From my best assessment, as of 10:30 a.m. four dolls had flown the coop.

I wasn't terribly pleased with how they displayed my dolls this time around. While the angel looked great on the old piano (organ?), I wasn't crazy about dolls in the tree.

I think they look better when seated on something....a table, a mantle, or a bookcase. There were lots of places like that around the hotel. Also, for some reason, they didn't use the doll chairs I sent along with them. I might have to make a friendly suggestion next year. Unless when I show up next weekend to gather up the unsold ones and my check, I discover there's only a check. Then I'll reconsider my opinion about the tree thing...

The fun continues....

I started the most fun part of the clay project today--painting Santa's clothes on. He won't be wearing a traditional Santa suit. Maybe you noticed. He'll be strictly a non-traditional Claus.

Do you think I should give him a tool belt? Maybe he could do a little plumbing work in the off season.

A couple of days ago, while I was out taking a walk, I noticed that a resident's front door and porch had been seasonally decorated, shall we say, way over-the-top. This got me to wondering which one of our neighbors could possibly have that much exuberance. I checked the condo directory when I got home and I'm pretty sure it's the woman who dressed up like a Christmas tree for the Halloween party. I remember asking her that evening if she had made the costume herself, and she proudly stated that yes she had, even though she hadn't sewn for years and years. She must have hidden a battery pack somewhere under her branches because she was flashing festively. It's gotta be the same woman, don't you think? Exuberance like that doesn't come along every day--expecially among those in our age group.

So tomorrow is the trim-a-tree party--where Snornie will make his debut--and I'm wondering if this lady will decide to wear her Christmas tree. Then again, maybe she's had her sewing machine busy since Halloween making a great pumpkin outfit for the occasion. If she's dressed in regular clothes I might not recognize her....and I really want to ask her if that condo with the garish, I mean festive decorations is hers. I'm sure you'd really like to know too. Then afterwards, I might introduce her to the porch poker lady. I'm sure Christmas tree lady doesn't realize she has a decided advantage at the moment. Porch poker lady probably thinks she's sitting pretty with her one lighted snowman and two wreaths...

Cheekiness

It's been a busy week with offspring visits, turkey and trimmings, and lingering hand-wringing. But I did find an alternative to the latter....thanks to a trip with other Marcia (currently plagued by blogus-interruptus) to Yarn Heaven, and a new clay project.

I had planned to make another snowman, but as I started working on his head I quickly realized he would be a Santa instead. A whimsical Santa.

A whimsical cheeky Santa. Sometimes the clay just does its thing and the sculptress must follow along.

Big City Girl commented on the table covering--a doll quilt I made for her long ago. She told me it was the perfect design for some sort of board game she used to play for long hours on her bed. I'm fairly sure it saw more gaming service than doll play.

Tech Guy and Big City Girl were here for two nights over the holiday--a real bonus. They are both afflicted with revolving-door syndrome. The night before they arrived, Mr. Gadget and I put together a list of questions and titled them Thanksgiving Trivia 2009 to test their knowledge of early family history. They enjoy this sort of thing and I like to think that family traditions are one way of enticing the young-uns to return home and stay a while. Cheesecake works too.

So now I'm decorating the house for Christmas. I can't believe how many ornaments we've amassed over the years. Kinda reminds me of dear ol' dad and his stash of plastic grocery bags tucked into every available nook and cranny of his condo. And my grandma Ferna with her big ball of string and collection of rubber bands on the kitchen doorknob. This may be a genetic disorder. I find it almost impossible to throw any of them out. Most have some sort of special meaning--like the polka-dotted mushroom, the surfing Santa, and the Cracker Jack prize. I see only one solution to this dilemma. I'll just have to buy another tree.