Apr 27, 2015


Thank you for all of your comfort.  Sometimes all a spinster needs is the tender ministrations of her friends, a pat on the hand, a cup of of tea, and a "There, there, you poor dear" thrown in for good measure.

I made my trip to the bank and spent a delightful time with the lovely representative, who, as it would just so happen, was a classmate from Notre Dame.   I don't think we ever crossed paths while there, but it sure was nice to have a kind face lead me through what was surprisingly a relatively painless process.

Waiting until Saturday to get a new card is a little panic provoking, but I always have Stewey's emergency twenty to count on if I can't make it to the branch for a lobby cash withdrawl.

So I came home feeling slightly better than I did last night, when I discovered that my account had been hit again.  Same online dating site....different amount.

You will be happy and very proud to know that I harnessed my inner potty mouth and called the online dating site to politely let them know that if they hit my card or account again, I might just have to take it up with the duly designated authorities.

At  least that's how it went in my head anyway.

Turns out that I don't have a dog in the hunt, since my bank credited my account for both charges, and it's now up to THEM to chase this down....which, by the way, they probably won't do because the amounts are so miniscule when compated to the ba-jillion dollars that they normally have to keep track of.

So somewhere out there are a couple of people who will enjoy a month or two of online dating, thanks to my bank and the fact that there are apparently more important things in the world than worrying about an idiot spinster's debit identity.

I swear life was a lot simpler when you could buy stuff with two goats and a jar of jam.

Apr 26, 2015


Dear person who stole my debit card number and used it to buy a subscription to an online dating site that shall remain nameless....


If the charge would have been for food, or an electric bill, or medicine for you or a sick child, I'm one of those idiots that would have happily given you the last eighteen cents in my account if I thought it would help you.

But a dating site?

I get it....truly....I do.  Being alone can seem like a very bad proposition, and I suppose that you figured that companionship would fix whatever ails you.  But do you really want to find your Prince or Princess Charming with a stolen credit card?

Phooey on you.  My morning will be spent at the bank ordering a new card, and then on the phone with all of the places that I had that old card on file to make buying things like prescriptions and car insurance and Stewey insurance that much easier.

Can a spinster just get a break, please?

Methinks I am not meant to be in the world writ large, and that life would get a lot better if I just took my little dog and a diet Coke and headed to the studio.

So how was your weekend?

Apr 23, 2015


I haven't stitched since February 1st, which means I haven't been me since February 1st, which means Stewey, Bosco, and Aunt Chrissy are ready to put me at the curb with a sign that says "Free to a good home.  She eats a lot, but knows how to load a dishwasher like nobody's business.  Just don't ask her to actually empty the damn thing, and you'll get along just fine.  Updated on all shots and vaccines, and fairly housebroken, but ridiculously high maintenance and not to be trusted with other pets or small children, since she has a tendency to take their toys."




Apr 6, 2015


I only have a quick minute before You Know Who decides to wake up from his post-luncheon nap, so I'll have to make this quick....

Aunt Chrissy and I had a lovely Saturday with the girls at House of Stitches.  (Waving a hearty HELLOOO! to Miss Linda, Miss Joy, and Miss Cherry!).  Provisions were purchased, threads were petted, and the Spinster Stitcher Basket 'O Stitching Fun was updated accordingly.  (Pictures to follow, I promise).

Easter dawned bright and early (as I think it usually does), and a fine time was had by all.  Stewey participated in an egg hunt on the back lawn of the neighbors, and managed NOT to chew the arm off of three tiny little girls dressed all in yellow.  I was dumbstruck and amazed, but my stupid dog hopped around noodging the hidden eggs, stood over them until a tiny little girl dressed all in yellow came to collect it for her basket, and then wiggled his tail and barked heartily as they scampered to the next conquest.


I am DEFINITELY not insured for him to be his usual anti-social ferocious snarling self with tiny little girls dressed all in yellow.

Aunt Chrissy insists that Stewey really is part bunny and that the outfits of the tiny little girls dressed all in yellow were Little Lord Fauntleroy approved, so that's the only reason why we avoided catastrophe.

I'm just happy I don't have to move.

Mar 26, 2015


My mom can't come to the blog right now.  She's sitting in the Happy Chair on her ample heiney, drooling into her sweatshirt over a tuxedoed Pierce Brosnan in Die Another Day.

It occurred to Mo-ther that she has never watched a James Bond movie from start to finish, and this particular Thursday seemed like as good a place as any to start.  I would have started with something involving a more classic Bond, but this is my stupid mo-ther we're talking about, after all.  So I will wait until she gets to one featuring Sir Connery before I reveal the news that the most recent Bond looks like Yours Truly with his fair hair and devastatingly handsome disposition.

Thank you for all of the lovely encouragement about the "situation" Mo-ther is presently embroiled in.  As she was boo-hooing the other night about her predicament, I reminded her that this is only a test and that she needn't worry about being made to feel the dumb bell.   There are plenty of us who love her...just as she is.

My Aunt Chrissy will step in eventually and set things to right again.  As she is fond of saying..."My sister?  Yeah, she's a marshmallow,  and she has a little dog that doesn't know he's a dog....but I'm the one you have to watch out for.  I'm the dog that BITES."

You have to love that in an aunt.

Tomorrow has been reserved for homekeeping, and then, as God is my witness, I am locking Mo-ther in the studio on Saturday until she comes out with a proper stitching basket in place.  It has been far too long since she had needle and thread in hand, and although I am a simple pup, methinks that this is surely most of her problem.

Besides, I can only put so many sedatives in her evening tea before the authorities are called and I am whisked away to account for my sins.

I do hope that this finds you well and that you know how much Mo-ther and I love and cherish your friendship.  It's an odd connection that we share, but one that is most truly priceless to us both.

With much love from your pal,

Mar 23, 2015


So here I am on a late March afternoon, watching the skies drop eighteen feet of snow on the ground.

(OK, maybe it's only an inch or two, but the fact that I'm going to have to put shoes on and find the snow shovel and then perfectly sculpt a path for Little Lord Fauntleroy to go outside to do his thing makes me think that the eighteen feet would actually make all of this silly fuss worth it.)

I'm thinking.

I'm thinking about men.

Before you call the Spinster Union to have my membership revoked, I'm not talking about "thinking" in the filthy and perverted way that a spinster of a certain age should be.  I'm thinking about the fact that at the ripe old age of 48, I have only known men who can easily be classified as extraordinary.  And I'm thinking this because, only very recently, I've been dealing with a man who is most definitely NOT extraordinary, and it has me stopped cold dead in my tracks trying to figure out how to process things.  (And again, before you place that call....I am in no way talking about dealing with a man that would in any way jeopardize my status of a single gal that wouldn't know what to do on a date if said date came with instructions neatly printed on his forehead.  I'm dealing with this fellow in a VERY non-biblical sense.)


The easiest analogy I can provide you, dear reader, is if you were a regular visitor to an animal sanctuary, and you enjoyed looking at and interacting with pretty turtles.  You talked to the turtles, went on long and leisurely walks with the turtles, laughed at the turtles' funny jokes, and even found enormous comfort in the company of the turtles.  In short, you came to believe that turtles are wise and wonderful and generous and kind and lovely creatures that you're just happy to be around.

And then the next time you go to the animal sanctuary, you don't find turtles, you find a screeching, viciously- fanged, feces-throwing heina.  This heina is mean and nasty and cruel and very very unkind, and every time you get within ten feet of the damn thing it makes you start to question your worth as a human being and makes you silently pray for death or a fast trip out of the animal sanctuary.

Wait a minute.

I'm starting to see that my analogy would imply that I somehow think men are animals.  Whoopsie.  Didn't mean to open THAT particular can of worms, I swear.  I'm just trying to explain that for some stupid reason I've had the pleasure and good fortune to know brilliant and wonderful men and now I'm trying to figure out one that's not so brilliant and/or not so wonderful.

It's not a big secret that my dad was my hero.  He was at once the smartest and kindest and most perfect person I've ever known, and the fact that he and I could be the same species, let alone be related to one another baffles me.  Dad was one of only a handful of people I've ever met that was entirely without ego. That didn't mean that he didn't have a sense of self or that he lacked confidence -- quite the opposite.  His understanding of who he was and what he stood for was so firmly implanted in his brain that he didn't feel the need to explain it every seven and a half minutes.  He just lived it -- by example and how he treated people and how he loved and provided and acted and thought and worshiped and talked and...was.  He was the cat's pajamas, I tell ya, and if I could figure out how to emulate one small part of him I'd punch the clock and call it a day.

I've also been blessed with uncles and cousins and great uncles and second cousins who were and are great men.  I've tried so hard to find one that causes me to say "Eh..." but I can't.  Each and every single one of them were and are men of honor and integrity and kindness and decency.  Whether it was my Uncle Connie teaching me how to color with my left hand, or my Cousin David taking me to the movies and then not leaving me in the parking lot when I was stupid enough to leave the car door unlocked and his radio was stolen (I'm still so sorry for that, by the way)...every single one of my male relatives made it easy to love and respect them.

My guy pals are a little nuts for entertaining a friendship with Yours Truly, but as hard as I try, I can't find a scoundrel among them.  For some stupid reason, I found men to be friends with who are smart and funny and kind and decent and lovely.  I've never once had to question why I would want to know these guys, and on more than one occasion, I've secretly wondered if I was worthy of the friendship.  My men friends are the brothers I never had, the protectors I never thought I needed (turns out, I did), and the gifts I definitely didn't deserve.

So this brings me back to Mr. X.  I think that the reason why I'm having such a hard time trying to navigate the waters of my interactions with him is that I haven't seen this particular animal before.  He's throwing me new material (and by that I don't mean pretty patterned fabric with which one might make a sassy little lap quilt).  He's throwing abuse and terror and cruelty and havoc into my world and I'm stumped as to what the h-e-double-toothpicks I'm going to do about it.

I'll ponder and I'll fret and I'll ponder some more, but I can promise you that the moment my hands go to my ample hips and that "look" comes into my eyes and the word ENOUGH crosses my lips, you'll be the first to know about it.  I am, if nothing else, my Mother's daughter, which means that I can be rather determined once I get my moxie up.

Stewey and I (oh, crap on a cracker is THAT another male figure in my life, or WHAT!!) send our very best to you and yours.  We've been doing a whole lot of nothing lately in terms of stitching, but that is going to change very very soon.  The Spinter Stitcher SpringTide Barrel O' Fun is almost complete, and as God is my witness, the Big White Wall of Nothingness is going to get a new Easter outfit if it kills me (which it just might).

Thanks for coming back after such a long absence, my friends!
Woo Hoo!

Mar 3, 2015


Rev. Theodore M. Hesburgh

Feb 12, 2015


So I'm looking at the darn Google thingie (a few weeks ago, as it would happen), and it told me that I had written 999 blog posts.

"Holey Schmoley!", I said.

And then I got in the Happy Chair and I started fretting about number 1000.

It got bad enough that when Aunt Chrissy and I went to the TGI Fridays for dinner at 3:00 this afternoon (because that's how WE roll in the big city), I decided to get her loving, wise, sisterly advice.

(OK,  so maybe that really wasn't the reason, but rather it was because she was paying for dinner and I felt really bad about it because I am the big sister and hapless matriarch of this little goat rodeo we call a family and it's my job to keep us in Arnold Palmers and cheeseburgers.)

But I digress.

So I says to Aunt Chrissy...."You know, I've been giving something a lot of thought.  I feel like I created a character called the Spinster Stitcher and that I go on my blog and live in this world with all of these amazing and wonderful and perfect people (that would be all of yous, by the way)....(oh wait, except maybe not Betty and the damn 13-year old who keeps hacking me with p.o.r.n.)...but for the most part, Spinster Stitcher is just that...a character.  Am I really being authentic?  Am I really letting people know ME?  Am I afraid that if I really shared my true self there would be a mass exodus and I would be left here, standing in a dark and deserted parking lot (I mean, come on, can you think of anything scarier?) (except maybe thunderstorms) (or cockroaches).  So I'm thinking that for my 1000'ndth blog post I'm going to tell my T."

It was at this point that Aunt Chrissy snorted a little bit of her cheeseburger out, daintily dabbed at her mouth, and said "Have you been watching The Lady Chablis in Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil again?"

(The truth of the matter is that....why yes, yes I have.)

(The Lady Chablis is fabulous.  Talk about a "character".  She is a drag queen in Savannah, Georgia, and her T is that her real name is Frank.)

But I....you know.

"I just feel like I want to tell everybody everything there is to know about me and to make sure that I'm presenting myself to all of my faithful readers (insert more snorting of the cheeseburger here) and that maybe a few of them will appreciate my honesty and integrity and courage to bear it all and it will inspire them to be brave or take a chance or do that thing they want to do, but can't.  I want to make a difference in the world, Aunt Chrissy, and I think my blog is the place for me to do that."

So I listened very carefully to everything Aunt Chrissy had to say (which, remarkably, sounded like blah blah blah blah blah) and I came home to write post number 1000.

I was on a roll, I tell ya.  Fingers flying, confessions confessing, T's all over the damn place.

And then Stewey walked in.

"Mo-ther.  What's all of this nonsense I hear about you committing acts of unspeakable horror on our blog?"

(You'll notice  I let that one go, by the way.  OUR blog?)

 "Stewey, Mommie wants to live a real life.  Mommie loves her faithful readers and wants them to know the real and authentic and true person....not some crazy lunatic with a talking dog and enough facial hair to grow a pashmina.  I've carefully crafted 999 blog posts and I want number 1000 to be special, Stewey.  I want the world to know how much their kindness, and friendship, and thoughtfulness, and love have meant to me, and I feel like number 1000 is the perfect place to do that."

(It was at this point that I realized that Little Lord Fauntleroy had not heard one single word I had said because he was too busy peering through his little spectacles at his iPad.)

"Mo-ther, you haven't written 999 blog posts.  You've written 998 blog posts and one fairly incoherent draft."
(Cue the sound of a squeaky hamster wheel turning slowly as my tiny little brain pondered this.)

Happy 999, everybody.

If we make it to 1000 without losing any more of our minds....there will be cake.  For everybody.

Feb 2, 2015


There's an built-in bonus danger in being my loyal and trusted advisors.

Just ask Aunt Chrissy.

Today's obsession is....day planners.


Day planners.

For the last seven or so years, I've used a Franklin Covey spiral bound day planner showing the week on two pages.  I throw it in my purse, write appointments and such in it, and get on with things in a relatively half-assed, yet totally well-intentioned sort of way.

This year, Aunt Chrissy and I were in the JoAnn Fabrics when we spotted some simple date books that had pretty pictures in them, so I whipped out a coupon and went all Bargain Betty on myself.

And then I came home and went on the Pinterest and came across something called an Erin Condren Life Planner.

Holy Organizing, Batman!  I've got visions of life planning spinning around in this tiny little brain of mine, and I cannot think of anything else!  I want to have a book that magically transforms me into a healthy, well-appointed, perfectly-ordered, happy, and creative person who sprouts rainbows and unicorns from her ears and who can empty the dishwasher without having to take a nap and pack a lunch first.

The Erin Condren search then lead to something called a Rainbow Planner (speaking of rainbows) from Bowl Full Of Lemons, and I went into a whole other tangent of wondering if a DIY planner would be better for a nut job like me who really just wants to use the billion dollars worth of scrapbooking crap she has in her studio, because scrapbooking was going to be "my thing" until I discovered that I had absolutely nothing to scrapbook besides baby pictures of Stewey, and I mean, come one, how many pictures of a sleeping dog with an overbite does one spinster need, anyhow?

So I need your help, kids.  Any Erin Condren/Rainbow Planner devotees out there who want to take my hand and save me from myself?  I don't need full-on executive style day planning, since all I need to keep track of these days is dog pee and appointments, but I wouldn't mind capturing stuff for budgeting/bills, things to do in the house (see dog pee above), and lists and such for this thing of ours.  I'm not at all opposed to becoming a fanatic, by the way.  It will be hard not to approach this without my usual calm, measured, and sensible manner, but if I need to go batcrap crazy and reinvent the proverbial wheel...I'll give it my best shot.

(I can hear you laughing, by the way).

Feb 1, 2015


A little stitchy...

I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long to tell you the thread colors.  Here they are:
Gentle Art Dungarees
DMC Ecru

The linen color is Fog Cashel.

A little knitty...

This yarn is Loops &  Threads Links in the color Ocean Blue.  The thingie that I'm knitting on is called a long loom.  This is scarf number seven, but who's counting?
A Little Lord Fauntleroy...

Jan 25, 2015


The outside matches the inside today.  

I love when that happens.

Jan 18, 2015


I started watching Downton Abbey on Friday afternoon.  I'm on Season Two, Episode Four and cannot tear my eyes away.

Here's the latest addition to my ever-growing scarf wardrobe.

Stewey approves...of both the scarf AND the viewing selection.  He especially loves the Dowager Grantham.

Jan 15, 2015


This is my favorite view.


Jan 10, 2015


Wow.  I had every intention of getting back in the saddle last night, but my after-dinner activities involved nothing more than drool, snoring, and then bolting upright at 10pm to discover that Stewey had put himself to bed with his book.

He did, however, manage to leave my weekend TO DO list on the ottoman for me, so it looks like today is going to be filled with chores, homekeeping, errands, and the fluffing of Little Lord Fauntleroy's blankets.

Apparently, he is determined to toast his little buns in front of the fireplace all day while I toil in vain to meet his every whim.

The sun is shining, so methinks I should get on with it so I can enjoy some afternoon stitching time.  Updates soon, I promise!

Jan 8, 2015


Remember when I mentioned that my new stupid-soft blanket is somehow imbued with magical powers that cause me to fall asleep every time I get under it?

Well, four hours later and I'm sitting here wondering if I will be able to manage to get the contacts out of my eyeballs, the teeth brushed, and the face washed before falling into the big girl sleigh bed.

Sheesh, I'm tired!

Is this what being in the vestibule to menopausal hell feels like?

Jan 7, 2015


Good grief, Charlie Brown!  I love cold weather and snow, but even I have to admit that sub-zero windchill is a little much.

Here's a little more progress from last night...there would have been more, but I got caught up in the latest Brandi Glanville drama on Housewives.

Stupid housewives.

I'm still digging the colorway, so I do have that going for me.  Stewey is equally as pleased, since he's convinced that a more neutral color scheme around here might keep me from being....me....all the time.

Here's hoping that your little corner of the world is warm and serene and that you're doing exactly what you want to be doing!

Jan 6, 2015


This is a really lovely way to spend an evening.  Who knew that a tree could make a girl so happy?

Jan 5, 2015


Progress continues!

Jan 4, 2015


Aunt Chrissy vetoed the multi-colored approach because a) she knows me and knows that I was hoping for a monotonal look, and b) she knows color and saw that the warm threads were clashing with the cool tones of the linen.

So I'm in the Happy Chair, happily stitching away....a roast is roasting in the crock pot ( or crock potting in the crock pot), and Crocket and Tubbs are getting the bad guys off the streets of Miami.

What can I say?  Don Johnson always did blow my skirt up, and what's not to love about 80's music and tight white t-shirts?

Happy Sunday!

Jan 3, 2015


So there I was, minding my very own business and happily stitching away, when I started to think.

I heard that, by the way.

That "Oh, brother, what's she up to now?" that you just muttered to nobody in particular...

I started to think that I might want to stitch all of the blossom/snowflakes in the same color to create some kind of tone on tone moteef rather than the multi-colored version that's called for on the chart.

That's what was rattling around in my head when I turned off the Tee Vee and headed to bed for the night.

I tried discussing my idea with Stewey, but he just adjusted his sleep mask, rolled over, and sighed heavily over the thought of having to put up with me.

So I fretted and fretted and fretted and then fretted some more, and all day today I kept thinking about changing the colors to a tone on tone moteef as I went about the business of being me.

Moments ago, I headed to the Happy Chair to start stitching for the night, and decided that I might like the multi-colored version that's called for on the chart after all.

What do you think?

Jan 2, 2015


So, I ask you....would it be so wrong to call this one finished?

I'm thinking it makes a minimalist statement....you know....one simple snowflake/blossom adjacent to a  bare tree.

Hmmmmm.  Even I don't think I can pull THAT one off!

Back to it...

Jan 1, 2015


Oh, what joy!  What bliss!  

Aunt Chrissy and Baby Bosco came over last night for a little New Year's Eve supper and stitching, and we watched all five episodes of "Parade's End" while I started this:
 It's "Blossom" by Carolyn Manning Designs, and it was exactly what I needed to be doing as the clock struck midnight and we ushered in the New Year.

I'm stitching this on a lovely piece of 28ct. Fog Cashel, and I'm thinking about substituting out the called-for green thread with a few icy blues so that the end result will be more winter-ish.

Included with the chart are these lovely hand-made "blossoms".  Aren't they swell?  Now all I need to do is keep them safely away from You Know Who before he gets the bright idea to adorn his little silk smoking jacket with them.

Speaking of my little nine-pound bundle of joy, we both want to send our very best wishes for a spectacular 2015.  May all of your hopes and dreams and wishes come true.  May you know nothing but peace and health and happiness the whole year through, and may we all be exactly where we want to be, doing exactly what we want to be doing for the entire lot of it!

Dec 24, 2014


The Spinster Stitcher, her little dog too, Aunt Chrissy, and Baby Bosco send you love and wishes for all that is merry and bright for you and yours!  Be safe, travel well, and enjoy your holiday.  We'll do the same and will see you in the new year!

Woo Hoo!
Coni, Crys, Stewey, and Bosco

Dec 7, 2014


This is Laura J. Perin's "Victorian Ribbons" and I'm trading out the recommended Camouflage for Holiday to make it all Christmas-y.

Dec 3, 2014


Here's the damage so far:
What looks like a big pile 'o yarn is actually a shawl (the white/cream thingie) and a Christmas scarf (the red, green, and white thingie).  

I've been sporting both around the neighborhood, and must say that the folks at the baby blanket yarn company sure know what they're doing....this stuff is s.o.f.t. and very very warm.

Stewey is unimpressed and has vehemently demanded that I return to counted needlework forthwith, but for now I'm satisfied to play with my bargain a little longer.

(The long loom was about ten bucks and the yarn was no more than seven or eight...all thanks to some well-used JoAnn's coo-puns.)

The outside decorations were hung with care, thanks to the help and supervision of Aunt Chrissy and You Know Who, but that might be as far as we get this year.  Would it be so wrong to just stand in the driveway whenever I feel the need to look at twinkle lights?  I keep thinking about how easy it will be to put all of the decorations away if I never get them out in the first place.

So that's the story from Lake Woebespinster.  I hope that your corner of the world is exactly how you want it to be!

Nov 28, 2014


The way this whole thing came about was that Aunt Chrissy and I were in the JoAnn's looking for something to do that would keep us out of the pumpkin pie.

"Hey, lookit!"  I said in the yarn aisle.  "Doesn't this kinda remind you of the spool thingie that Dad made us that we used to knit on?"

(Actually, it was Aunt Chrissy who spied these....and she said (most articulately, I might add) "Oh, this is a loom.  I've always wanted to learn to knit on a loom.  Perhaps we should try this....they are remarkably affordable and I see that the resulting accomplishment of finishing a project would be most satisfying.")

OK.  maybe she didn't say it EXACTLY that way, but the end result is the same.  We've both been loom knitting our fingers off for the better part of three days now and I almost have my first scarf.

It will be quite chunky, it is true, but then again, so am I and we all know how delightful THAT can be!

For those who've asked...this is called knitting on a long loom and you can learn all about it on the YouTube, just like I did.

Stewey and I hope that you are all well and cozy and happy.  If we get our chores done tomorrow I've promised him a tummy rub and some time in the studio putting together our Spinster Stitcher Christmas Basket O Stitchy Fun.

Stay tuned!!

Nov 25, 2014


it's either going to be a really fat and chunky scarf, or a blanket big enough to cover a small vehicle.

Either way, we're cozy and ready for turkey!

Nov 23, 2014


We can blame Aunt Chrissy for tonight's crazypants obsession.  

Stay tuned.  In a year or two, I might end up with a scarf.

Nov 10, 2014


Forgive me, but it took me a minute to get smart enough to delete all of the crap from the hacker.  Thanks to a loyal and devoted reader explaining it to me, I now know that the only thing that mess was about was trying to spread a virus.  And since the LAST thing I want is to cause grief to those I love  (that would be all of you) I opted o.u.t.

Here's a little progress on Shepherd's Bush "Harvest of Plenty".  It is such a joy to stitch....pulling that silk through that linen is exactly what the doctor ordered.