Restless Brain Syndrome

I can't get to sleep. I've got restless brain syndrome. It's kinda like restless leg syndrome but it's my brain that keeps twitching. These past two weeks at work have had my brain jumping around like an ant on crack that drank 6 cups of coffee right before bed. Stupid ant. 

As a side note, apparently, when I don't get enough sleep and am stressed, I curse. A lot. I can make entire sentences that are nothing but curse words. It's a talent. I didn't say it was a good talent. Most of Friday consisted of me apologizing to various friends for shocking their delicate sensibilities. 

Disclaimer specifically for Joe–quit reading now, go look at something else.

So here I am, cruising cross stitch websites to look at all the new patterns available. I've already found a few that I'm going to pick up and hide away. "In the Sweet" from La D Da, "Bluebird Alphabet" from Just Nan,  and "Jenny Bean's Creation Sampler" from Shakespeares Peddler are on my list now. 

 

Irradiated Pink Floss

This past three day weekend gave me some time to work on "Lo How a Rose." Of course, I didn't use it. Every so often, a weekend fills up with activities. This time it was getting the taxes done, going to a birthday party (which we missed, because I am a dumbass and thought the party started a 2 instead of 12:30), a memorial service for a past coworker and Boybat's pinewood derby race–he won a trophy for the most creative car. The dance/jig he did on his way to show Joe and I the trophy was priceless.

Which gave me Monday morning to cross stitch. Until Boybat decided to sort his Legos according to color. Apparently he's inherited my obsessive compulsive nature.

I've decided to rip out the box around the L on this pattern and use a darker pink instead. The one that's there now looks like it was exposed to some sort of gamma radiation and could glow in the dark.

Crazy busy

Sorry I haven't written much in the past week. It's been crazy busy at work and this coming week promises to be more of the same. I'll try to write something tomorrow!

Must. Leave. Town.

I can't stand it anymore. I need to get out of town, maybe go to Seattle.

I'm going stir crazy.

 I must leave town or I'm going to start repainting and redecorating, and nobody wants that.

That would be bad.

Happy sorta Valentine

In keeping with my recurring theme of "Where the Hell did I put that?" I bring you my Valentine's Day present for Joe.

I designed and stitched this little heart one day last month when I wanted to do something quick. I set it aside with the intention of giving it to Joe today.

I'm sure you can all see where this is going...

I can't find it. I found the frame for it, but no little heart.

So, Happy Valentines Day Joe! Here's what you'll get when it shows up!

Could have been worse

Made a bit of progress with Lo How a Rose this weekend. This after distracting myself with a trip to the cross stitch store in Spokane. As usual, I went to get one thing, and walked out with another project and all that goes with it. I was especially thrilled that I managed to get out for under $30 when my average visit is around $70.

Puff balls vs. zombie crafts

2 bills, 3 pieces of junk mail, 1 catalog, 2 magazines and a package full of floss, linen and pattern goodies.

Everything I ordered to start "Lo How a Rose" arrived today. I have the book next to me right now and the floss laid out, waiting for me to get going.

After I help glue 100 fuzzy puff balls to a cowboy hat for Boybats' 100 day celebration at school.

100 fuzzy neon puff balls. On a hat. I was all for finding 100 tiny zombie figures and have them marching around but apparently the stores around here do not share my views that zombie hoards could be amusing. Especially when used for first grade craft projects.

Nothing good can come from power tools and liquor

There's only one power tool in our house. A drill. Okay, a drill and a Dremel tool I got for craft stuff. So, two power tools in our house. Neither Joe or I are inclined to build things. It usually ends up with us not speaking to each other and a dresser with upside down drawers. We've accepted that we should never assemble things together unless counseling and liquor are involved (the same thing with furniture moving, nothing good comes from furniture moving). Even then, should liquor, bad carpentry skills and power tools be combined?

So imagine my trepidation when Boybat came home with his pinewood derby car.

I thought at least the damn thing would be vaguely car shaped–add some paint, some stickers and call it good. Noooo, It's a freakin' rectangular block of wood with 4 nails and some wheels. What the hell Boy Scouts? I'm not letting a 7 year old loose with a hand saw and a block of wood.

There's not much you can do to a block of wood with a drill to make it look like a car.

After Boybat and I got as far as we were going to get with the hand saw, Elmer's glue and a Dremel tool, I got to settle in for some stitching this weekend.

I put a pretty good dent in the as yet unnamed project that I've been working on. I decided to back stitch a few of the flowers just to see if I like the shapes. I'm still trying to decide if I prefer the medium pink or the dark pink back stitching on the large flowers.

Another finish!

WooHoo! Another finish!

I designed and started this when Boybat was 3. It was about then that I stopped cross stitching for a few years. Apparently, at that age, he was not nearly as self sufficient as I thought he should be, and required me to do things like feed, clothe and nurture him. This put a serious dent in the "me" time that I keep reading about in magazines that I wont admit to reading because they make me feel old and responsible.

I took this pattern back up again this summer after discovering it in a long lost basket of household flotsam. Since then, it would get put aside in favor of other projects, mainly other projects that didn't have red or blue floss in them. Friday, I finished up the last 45 minutes of stitching and can declare it done.  

Now I can start another project without feeling guilty.

Stop Looking for it

I was going to show the progress on my latest project, but I can’t seem to find the camera.

I know I had it on Monday. I probably put it aside while saying to myself “I’ll remember that I put the camera here.”  Which really means it will be years until I find it again if I keep looking for it, or I’ll find it tomorrow if I stop looking for it.

I have a mental list of things that I should probably stop looking for so I can find them.

As an added level of annoyance, Joe, who can be looking directly at something while he asks me where it is, often knows where the things I mislaid are.  Even if they’re in the most bizarre  places. He knew that the hammer was in the china hutch–I couldn’t tell you why it was there, it probably made sense to me at the time.

Maybe I can show my progress tomorrow after I stop looking for the camera.

Update: This morning I forgot my phone and asked Joe if he saw it. He told me right away, "It's by the camera." Smart ass.

Oogie

I have a favorite spot in the house. I read here–mostly sci-fi adventure and mysteries, watch movies–right now it seems to be James and the Giant Peach (over and over and over, Boybat's current favorite), and cross stitch. Lots and lots of cross stitch. 

If you're like me, your favorite spot in the house has developed a butt print. If I end up sitting anywhere else, it's like trying to wear someone else's shoes. It can be done, but why the name of all that's vaguely oogie would you want to?

Oogie-def. not quite disgustingly gross but closer to disturbingly yucky.

Sitting in someone else's cushion butt print is oogie. Come to think of it, so is wearing someone else's shoes. Especially bowling shoes.