Post Op Report

You may be interested in the fate of Coats and Clark All Purpose, Dual Duty Art.210 XC 161. Surgery was performed at 10:15 a.m. PST. The patient has survived, although she is still in recovery. No anesthetic was administered (note vituperative attitude of Surgeon) and, other than a hand washing, no antibiotics were employed. The Surgeon did note a bit of discomfort on the part of the patient when the initial cut was made, also when sanding devices were utilized, but this is not the Good Samaritan of Sewing Hospital, nor is it Our Lady of Perpetual Concern when it comes to recalcitrant, mean spirited spools. You reap what you sew here, and since the Surgeon in charge could not sew, a large reap (weep for her if you wish) was called for. Coats and Clark is now in ICU (oh, look, someone sent her flowers!) and it is hoped that her time there will be spent in quiet contemplation and in a determined state of atonement.
Note to any reader: Did you realize that emery boards come with a warning label.."Keep Out of Reach of Children". Now honestly, I raised two children and never felt the need to keep my emery boards locked away in a cupboard. Call me irresponsible, call me unfit, call Children's Services...I ask, what is it about an emery board that posts a problem? I did try to cut myself with one, slit my throat, injure the dogs, but nothing happened. Perhaps if I take two out into the sunshine and rub them together I'll be able to start a fire.

Best!

A Short Note

Dear Coats and Clark....specifically All Purpose, Dual Duty, ART.210 XC 161,
May I take this opportunity to tell you to what extent you have ruined my afternoon of sewing. I would prefer to swear here with gusto and conviction, but I have all ready done that, right before I turned off the machine, the lights, closed the door and stomped down the hallway in a proverbial huff!
I was blaming my poor innocent sewing machine and my stupidity, only to realize that after six attempts to fill the bobbin, and one attempt at a long seam, that it is entirely your fault. If this were winter, I would throw you in the wood stove in an instant, and with great glee. You are brand new, pregnant with thread, but refuse to cooperate because: that damned doohicky notch on you catches the thread every time. I have tried to "sand" that slot down with a finger nail file. It hasn't worked. I hate that groove anyway. It takes an act of God to find it in the first place, and then another miracle to release the end of the thread from said groove.
The obvious solution would be to turn you around so that the slot is on the opposite side of the thread as it's released...but that doesn't work on my machine. It has to feed one way and one way only. I am unsure at this point what awaits you, but at this juncture, it feels as if you may be facing a violent death...and one which I may prolong, just to torture you as much as I possibly can.
I am going to play in the sprinkler. Don't you dare move from that spot, don't even think about it for an instant. You are in Time Out!
No sincerely, no love, no solicitations,
Ellen

Ah, Now I Understand

My husband was complaining about his socks the other day. I'm thinking, "Get over it, there's nothing wrong with your socks, except the fact that the mud stains don't come out."
Now I understand, sigh. When I took them out of the dryer the other day, it was like pulling on snakes. Each sock just kept coming and coming, no end in sight. I went to fold them and collapsed with laughter. These danged things are now, get this, 27" long. I measured them. 27" long is a wee bit too long. My husband may be tall, but he is not 7 feet tall.
I'm going to use them and make myself some long underwear, footed long johns for this winter. I should be able to have fully fashioned, butt and foot warmers! Maybe I'll embroider them.

Best!

The Three F's

No, no! Not those kind of F's. These kind...Family, Food and Flowers.
Last night our oldest grandson spent the night with us and we had his most requested meal: Boney chicken, edamame beans, corn, mashed potatoes, gravy, green salad, strawberries and blueberries. He also requested biscuits, but I drew the line at those. For those of you unfamiliar with boney chicken, it's simply "normal" roasted chicken. When he was quite a bit smaller he'd only had boneless chicken breasts. The first time I made chicken for him he wanted to know how I got the bones in there...hence the boney chicken. It's a standard now! All was yummy, we had an early bedtime after reading some of Paddle to the Sea. It was a lovely evening. Hope yours was too.

Best!

Inspiration

I am going to use these colors that are just outside my back door as inspiration for sewing a little something...that is as soon as I can beat a path to my sewing machine. I hope that this miracle will occur in the next 48 hours! It will take nothing short of a miracle at this point.
I'm realizing more and more that I need to find a better system for storing "stuff". I am not sure what that is going to entail, but I do know that if I have to shift lots of boxes around to get to what I want, it creates more of a mess and is very discouraging. I'd love to have a bigger area to work in, but that is not going to happen. I do have a small bedroom and that's more than I had before my children flew the coop. I do appreciate that even this small space is a luxury. I need Mission Organization on hand!
I love the colors of the flowers and like the bit of blueishness of the hose thrown into the mix.

Best!
edited: one of my flower shots refuses to be downloaded...they are zinnias in bright pinks and oranges.

Adieu, Adieu

Say farewell to Miss Mousie for a short while. She's off to perform in the famous opera, Die Fledermouse by Johann Strauss. You may not be aware that she is a girl of many talents. As well as being an accomplished stitcher and bowler, she has had quite a career in opera. She truly is an accomplished Diva and I hate to add, a very petulant and demanding one at that. Miss Mousie has had her panties in a twist for days over this latest engagement. She hates to leave home, that's part of it, but if truth be told, it's really because she has to give up her bowling shoes. They simply refuse to let her wear them during her performances. It's been an uphill battle! She is off, despite dramatic protestations, and won't return until early fall.
I am not privy to her exact schedule, but I know that she and "company" will be performing in Milan, Mannheim, Moscow, Melbourne, Manila, Miami and Milwaukee. Apparently they are hitting all of the M's this season.
I did receive a brief call from her this morning. She was taking a short break from a long and frustrating rehearsal of the scene in which she is required to swoon. In this part of Die Fledermouse, Alfred sings to her and as he hits a high A, her character, Rosalinde, melts upon hearing this. The problem for Miss Mousie as Rosalinde, is not that she can't perform this "melt", it's that she melts too soon. Miss M. declared in a disgusted whisper on the phone, "It's his breath! He eats too much Limburger Cheese, his teeth are yellow and he sweats! He would stop a wharf rat in its tracks!" Oh, my.
Well, I am off to restock the larder with peas. Miss M. will have a month or so of rest in the fall when she returns.....just long enough to recoup and get ready for the winter rehearsals of the Mice Capades.

Best!

WIP

Dear Ladies of the Modern Generation,
Please note that you are not the first in this Nation to have Works In Progress, nor are you the the first to Use What You Have.
I am under the gun here and may have to pull another all-nighter. This is seriously cutting into my bowling time. However, I have been told that this is for an important occasion and it must be completed on time. I have to finish up these pesky stars and then move on to the stripes. Wish me luck!
George W. is becoming quite testy waiting for me to finish. Wait until he discovers that a certain mouse has gnawed away at his best coat and trousers for the stripes. I can't wait to see Martha's expression when she sees the tears and rents in her best pair of unmentionables. A girl has got to do what she needs to do to get the job done, and since I have no STASH of my own, I have resorted to desperate measures.
Wish me luck, and you can be sure that I will sign my complete name to this piece. I refuse to initial it. I trust that you will understand why.
I remain,
Betsy Mouse
July, 1776

Computer Housekeeping

I realized this morning that I hadn't deleted the Spam from my computer in about a week.It's a good thing I checked. If I had waited much longer poor Chance would probably have asphyxiated within twenty four hours. I don't understand how all these people have so much time on their hands. Surely, there are more pressing issues than taking care of me. I guess that they are just concerned about my well being and want to make sure that, should I require anything, should I want anything, they are right here, Johnny on the Spot to help me out.
I didn't open up any of my messages. It would have taken me way too long and, after all, I do have things that need to be done. I did a quick scan of all 548 of them, and let me tell you, some of those messages have me a little concerned. For instance, there appears to be an abundance, and I mean a staggering abundance, of young women who are either tired or bored. They all admit to being twenty five. I am truly worried about the women of our country who are twenty five. Is there something going on here that I don't know about? It must be a virus, but then why is it attacking only twenty five year old women? I wonder if the CDC knows about this? I would count this as a national crisis. To be that tired and/or bored at twenty five is a mystery to me. Think about it for a minute. You go to bed the night before your twenty fifth birthday. At twenty four you are fully functional. You wake up on your birthday morning and are a completely different person...for an entire year you are dragged down with exhaustion and ennui. Poor souls!
I have also received many, many messages about getting the size I've always wanted, mega sizing my unit, and getting a bigger instrument. You know, my kids are gone and our house is quite big enough for the two of us. I'd love a bigger piano, but the instrument that I have now hardly fits in our tiny living room. As far as obtaining a bigger flute, I don't even play the recorder I have, and aren't flutes supposed to be tiny? Further more, what is it that is supposed to help you grown four inches in six months? Have they considered the ramifications? That would be eight inches in one year alone. By my calculations, I'd be well over six feet tall before I could say, "Jack Robinson!" I'd have to keep buying new clothes. I'd have to duck to get through doorways. I wouldn't fit on a plane....and besides all of that, I've exceeded the age to try out for the NBA.
One final comment and this is my only criticism. I also received a message from an educational institution offering degrees without the necessity of taking exams or studying. I find that downright unconscionable. In my day a person was required to study and to work hard for a degree. I don't like the tone of that message. I'm concerned as well that this institution offers Dlpomas. For heaven's sake, would you enroll in a school that offered one of those?

p.s. to the twenty five year old women...try some crafting, quilting, sewing, knitting. Create a blog...all of this will help with your boredom and will relieve stress that causes your exhaustion. My final word of advice is to change your name. What in the world were your parents thinking when they named their daughters Deon Bullock, Peter Pecker, Hardy Plank, Ben Dover or Rooster Peckher?? Change your names. Much of your problem may be related to the underlying anger you carry because of the names bestowed upon you. Anger leads to depression and depression leads to feelings of helplessness and fatigue. I do hope you take these suggestions to heart. Try them, but don't bother to write me in the morning.

Best!