Summertime Blues

Ah summer! Time is flying soooo fast these days, I don’t even have to wait until August for the dog days – Wee Dawgies, it’s been hot, hot, hot. It’s also been muggy. When it gets like this sometimes my knee gets to hurting. My own personal barometer. Which reminds me ~

Mike Pasquel never liked me. He always told me he was gonna throw me in the river. I don’t know why he didn’t like me. Perhaps it was because I was a safety patrol crossing guard and looked real spiffy with my white belt. Perhaps it was because I made him wait until I stood in the middle of the road with arms and legs stretched out, shielding him and the rest of my peers.

Maybe he didn’t like me because sometimes I used my skates while wearing the patrol belt – a definite no-no – but I enjoyed showing off my skill of stopping on a dime. At the end of the 5th grade, when school was released for summer vacation, Mike actually did push me down the ravine into the river.

How I loved summer when I was a kid. We didn’t have air conditioning, heckfire shoot, not even a color tv. My NY Granny made sure we stayed outside all day long. We found shade trees to sit under and play board games in the hot afternoon sun. Early mornings and evenings were made for riding my bicycle or skating with my excellent pair of hand me down metal skates. They even had their own key! Huzzah!

The day that Mike Pasquel pushed me down that grassy slope, I was wearing my skates. I rolled, I tumbled and my right knee hit a stump, which in turn caused my skate to get hung up on it’s root. No one was around to hear my cry. I remembered every bad word I had ever heard in my life. Trust me, he was called every color of dirty dog there was. I even invented a few which I forgot totally about until I was married to my first husband.
Funny how the memory works.

A kid back then with these magic skates always had their skate key. Mine was tied on a shoelace and wore around my neck. My fat 11 year old fingers nimbly loosened the skate so I could free my foot. You should have seen my knee. It would take a whole bottle of mercurochrome to keep me from certain impetigo. I limped home, skates in hand, PF Flyers no longer clean. My soiled patrol belt would never be pristine again. My NY Granny saw me limping. She came with switch in hand, just knowing I had been up to no good. On closer inspection, Grandma knew I had come out on the losing end of this battle.

At times I would rather have taken a switching than to listen to my Grand parents. My Grandpop was from Denmark. He was like King Solomon, with his wisdom and Jewish wit. My Grandmother was neither Jew or witty. And she was never, bless her heart, politically correct. She knew that rotten Mike P. was in for it. Grabbing my arm, she dragged me to his house, confronted him, graphically questioned his father and mother’s heritage in no uncertain terms and in the end, I received a new pair of skates and a slimy handshake from my sworn enemy.
That summer I never once used those skates. I wonder what ever happened to them. Probably in my mother’s attic. She never throws away anything.

Enthusiasm

Hi Folksies
Another month has passed by. Summer has been very enthusiastic in her charms this year. After everyone, including myself, complaining about the long, cold winter, Summer has decided to show off all her glory. I enjoy the beauty of Summer. I sing sweet songs to her all Autumn, Winter and Spring. When Summer enters, I continue to sing of her beauty - after all, I love to garden. I do keep reminding her year after year to just skip August and beckon nature to bring me a sweet Fall. Sakes alive, August arrived early this year. Those dog days of summer, sweltering heat that only okra and peppers thrive in. My poor tomatoes are not doing as well as earlier. My squash has pretty much played out, cukes are finally saying adios. I have canned right much, the rest thrown in the deep freeze until I get cooled down enough to get the kitchen like a furnace again.

Summer isn't the only thing that can be enthusiastic. Take me for example. What I lack in excellence, I make up for in enthusiasm. I start each and every project from cleaning the house (did I just say that?), raising children, caring for my parents, sewing, quilting, gardening, with great gusto! Sure I make plenty of mistakes along the way. Always have, always will. I have a dear friend that never gets much accomplished because she wants everything perfect. Uh oh. She is the first to tell me when she sees one of my creations, "Well, you could have done it this way, or I would've done that or, or, or . . ." But she never will because the fear of imperfection is like that little cloud that followed the kid in the Peanuts cartoons. I love to learn and that means making mistakes here and there.
My stitches aren't even, but heckfire shoot, I AM a Folk Artist. (I reaffirm this to myself regularly because it sounds official). Oopsy, getting off track again! Let me continue . . .

So, Summer ~ continue to sing your song. You have not been the perfect summer,
missed the mark a few days here and there, been stingy with the rain once again, but your joy in keeping the heat of the sun focused on us, has been full of
enthusiasm.

Happy Fourth of July!

God Bless America! Thank God for Independence and Freedom!

Who doesn't love a holiday? Time off from work for most folks and in the summer it is always a great excuse to get together with friends and family to celebrate. We generally always have a big cook out at our place. We get a couple of charcoal grills going - love the smell of lighter fluid and charcoal - I know, don't write me that it is a carcenogenic; I am not worried about that stuff. We grilled out yesterday and after Luscious gets home from work, we will grill out again today!

I love not having to do more in a hot kitchen than I have to! I have already been busy canning and freezing what needs to be done. Our garden has been fairly productive this year. Lots of squash, tomatoes, peppers, beans, cukes, okra, corn are among the most prominent veggies. We have been fastidious about saving our heirloom seeds each year and I declare, each year the veggie patch gets better.

This past weekend Luscious and I had our hands full with trying to pick more of those yummy blackberries. We picked 2 gallons all total with more on the vines!

Our guests will be picking their own blackberries with an invitation to come back in another week to start on the blueberries that are just now starting to get sweetly ripe. Oh the delish mixed berry yummies I can make!

When I am not getting sweaty in the garden, I am busy working on more projects for gifting. One of the current quilty projects is called Pineapple Blossom. I am putting four squares together then hand quilting them. When completed it will go to one of the kids as a Christmas pressie.

Lots of hand stitching; nothing fancy at all but loads of fun. I am using various colors of DMC number 8 thread in plain old irregular running stitch to go with the scrappy look. I am grooving on this one, folksies.

Enjoy your holiday, give thanks for our brave men and women over the years and currently keeping us free. God Bless America!

Scrappy quilt - a slow work in progress PLUS Blackberry Muffins!

Hi folksies
As you know, I generally have several irons in the fire at once. My mind just works that way. Also, I am a slow quilter. Last November, two sisters who are friends of mine, brought me a few sacks of shirts from their Dear Daddy's closet to make them remembrance quilts with. I have finished one, which I shared a few months ago:

There were some shirts left, so I got busy with cutting and sewing strips and scraps. I have been doing both of these quilts with my own Blondie version of Quilt as You Go method, hand stitching the blocks using some DMC 8 thread for accent. This is what I've accomplished so far:

Really grooving on the scrappiness of joining these shirts together. It is almost done, will most likely work on it some today while watching the infamous Casey Anthony trial. I tell my sister that we are like the old ladies in a Tale of Two Cities, busily knitting while crying for the guillotine. Yep, that's us. Stitch a few, shake our heads and then cry for Guillotine. Betcha didn't know I was so bloodthirsty!

Oh! Almost forgot! The blackberries are coming in like gangbusters! I made some delish Blackberry Muffins by combining a few recipes. Can I say a modest YUM! This is a KEEPER?

Blackberry Muffin Recipe
Gather together:
*2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
* 1 Tbsp baking powder
* 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
* 1/2 teaspoon salt
* 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
* 2 large eggs
* 1 cup sour cream
* 1 teaspoon milk
* 1 cup sugar
* 1 cup chopped walnuts (or pecans!)
* 8 Tbsp warm melted butter (1 stick)
* ½ teaspoon vanilla
* 1 tsp lemon extract
* Blackberries, cut in half
* Brown sugar for topping
Now, let's get going:
Preheat oven to 400°F.Line your muffin tins with paper or grease it up
Beat together eggs, sour cream, milk, sugar, butter and vanilla, lemon extract
Combine the dry ingredients and nuts separately. I like to whisk my flour to lighten it a bit. Then join the liquid with the dry ingredients, CAVEAT : Don’t over do the mixing; you want the muffins to be light and melt in your mouth; not tough as Granny's old shoe.
Now you can add the blackberries any which way you want to, but this is how I do it: Since our blackberries are bigger than my thumb, not only do I cut them in half, I add them to the muffins while in the tray. By that I mean, I add some batter, place some berries in, add some more batter and top with a nice slice of blackberry with some brown sugar covering the top of the muffin mix.
Then bake for 15 minutes or so, depending on your oven and also on the size of your muffin tin..
These are soooooo good with coffee. It actually does have a coffee cake taste.

Happy Father's Day

How often do we take the ones we love for granted? I think of this often and always tell my Luscious Man that I thank the Lord for him each day - that I never want to take him for granted, never want to take advantage of him, and each day, I most sincerely mean that I tell him all of these plus, that he is my double portion of joy. The Word of God says that out of your former shame God will give you a double portion of joy. (Isaiah 61:7)

I am thankful that this beautiful man is not only my husband but has claimed my children as his own. The children, now grown, cannot imagine a better Daddy. And not only has he been a blessing to the children and I, he has been an excellent son to my parents. How my Daddy loved him! He would call him his right arm and would tell me quite often how happy he was we found each other.

Now this is also the first Father's Day without my own wonderful Daddy. It is a bitternsweet day, as most "firsts" in the year following a loss. Last year, Luscious and I carried Daddy and Mom to Mabry Mill for Father's Day and we had a wonderful picnic, lots of happy stories from Daddy, and I even got up and flat footed a minute to some great blue grass. This delighted my Daddy as his mother loved to flat foot and taught me how. It was his last really good day.

I don't like to linger on sadness. I have been fortunate to have two wonderful men in my life who are my heros. My Daddy, who taught me to respect myself so that I could respect others, how to hoe a good row, make poor man's gravy, and most of all, Daddy taught me how to laugh at myself. That is an important thing that most don't ever learn. I am thankful to be the daughter and wife of country boys.

God bless each and every Daddy out there. Thank you for loving your wife and children, loving your country enough to stand up for it.

January to June 2011

Here are just a few of the blocks and other assorted thingies for swaps and personal that I have made this year. As you can tell I like color, textiles and most of all fun

The Burly Quilter with a Contest and Gardening

Hi folks
Been awhile once again since I posted. In my own defense, you know that when the weather turns to summer I will be busy in the garden. We have already been pulling some squash for a refreshing break from frozen veggies. What tastes better than FRESH from the GARDEN? The tomatoes are beginning to set their fruit and I can just taste those 'mater sammies! YUM.

My holly hocks and other perennial flowers are showing off again. I am also watching the growth of some Jerusalem Artichokes. I am intrigued by the whole concept of Jerusalem Artichokes. I have a very dear cousin who gifted me with a huge bag of these tubers/roots. They can be dug up and eaten like potatoes or just left to grow and spread like a tall blanket of sunflowers. Oh boy, y'all know I love my sunflowers! Once they get going, I will post some pictures.

I spent a few days last week in the hospital. Seems as if I got severely dehydrated from a horrible stomach virus. I thought I was on the mend when I started seeing all these spots in front of my eyes and fell with a loud thud on the floor, giving myself a concussion.

My head is still a bit sore to touch but the headaches have finally gone bye bye. Poor Luscious. He ran to where I was in a heap and scared the dickens out of him. He said my eyes were open and there was no Blondie in them. For five minutes he tried to wake me up and when I did I was quite upset that he woke me up! When he told me he felt the house shake when I fell, I knew the honeymoon was over, lol. Luscious is a good babysitter, although he tends to hover too much for my taste. He can make a mean bowl of jello and gatorade ice pops.

I have recently discovered a blog by a yummy young fella ~ The Burly Quilter. He is running a contest right now

Go give him and looksie and you may even WIN. I sure hope I do. It might make up for having a new hospital bill.

Roosters can be a real Cogburn

Memories. Some are good, some not so good. Most of us focus on the good ones. I know I do. As in the song now playing, Somewhere Over The Rainbow, some memories bring you back to that tender time in your life where memories are really all mixed up – The good ones, the bad ones, and how you choose to remember them.

I love stories like Babe or Charlotte’s Web. I can identify with those who champion the little pig, or any runt. When I was a little girl, we had a small farm. Nothing big, you understand. Just for our personal sustenance. Two particular instances stand out in my memory . . . besides growing our own veggies, we had a flock of chickens with the necessary nasty rooster and a pig that rivaled Wilbur.

I love chickens. If you have ever had chickens you can understand the story of Henny Penny and the sky is falling. They actually do run around at times as if the sky is literally is falling on them. Now as for that nasty rooster. Hmmm. What shall I say about him? Well, have you ever seen the movie True Grit with John Wayne? His name was Rooster Cogburn. I am assuming he was nicknamed that because he was not always in good humor, could be quite surly and meant business. While I loved the hens and biddies, I always disliked gathering eggs because that Cogburn of a Rooster would try to flog me. As I recall he was a bantie rooster of unknown origin. Wellsir, even at my tender age I knew his origin was really from somewhere south of Heaven. He was a devil to be certain. He would keep one eye on the ground, pretending to be foraging, the other on me, lulling me into a safe place in my mind, all the while timing his attack.

Most of you know that I am the middle child. The one that has always been put upon. The one who was always responsible. The one who was told, Go gather the eggs; it is a gal’s job. The one who always, and I mean always, got the flogging end of that nameless rooster. My dear Daddy always said, Gal, don’t let that rooster get the best of you. Grab his neck and sling him across the pen. I reckon he thought that getting that devil under control was like a rite of passage into what? Heckfire, shoot! I tried, I really did.

My solice during this particular period was taking care of Red, our pig. My Daddy always told me to never name livestock. But I couldn’t help but name that pig Red. He was a creamy color piglet and as he grew, he developed big red splotches like giant freckles, eventually becoming soft red.

I loved that piglet. I fed him, well actually back then we called it slopping, and I would rub his belly with a stick. When I would go out back, Red would come running. Once in the proximity of me, he would then roll over and wait for the belly scratching to commence. I would rub his soft ears and tell him all my woes with the rooster. Red, always the good listener would snort in agreement. I knew a gal in algebra who, when she laughed, sounded just like Red’s snort. Wonder where is she today and if she still snorts?

Oops, back to that rooster. One day, as I was first feeding the chicks so that I could gather their eggs, that rooster was doing his foraging as mentioned earlier. I was a much wiser little girl by then. I knew I needed to be fleet of foot and quick with the gathering.
When I was almost out of the gate, thinking I was safe, here came that rooster. He pummeled me on my legs like a bowling ball. I dropped the eggs and tried to cover my face and hair. Daddy happened to be out back and witnessed that episode. He calmly went in the house, gathered his shotgun and came outside. He let the air out of that rooster. That is one reason why my Daddy has always been my Hero. He picked the carcass up and disposed of it. Like I said, my hero. Daddy, always the stoic said,
“That rooster outlived his usefulness. I can get another not so mean.” However, after all these years and many other chickens, I have never found one that was anything but, well . . . rooster-ish!

Daddy was not the only one to observe my last shellacking of that fowl bird. So did Red.
My pig did more than snort. He screamed. Have you ever heard a pig scream? I was Red’s friend and number one belly scratcher. He really didn’t care what I smelled like after wallowing in all that chicken mess. He loved me even more I liked to think.

We had Red for almost two years. He grew so large that he almost outgrew his own pen.
When you lived on a farm, you realize that livestock is often sold or traded. I came home from school and my Granny told me that Red was gone, so I didn’t need to slop him.
I cried for my friend. A few nights later, we had pork chops for dinner. Daddy and I couldn’t eat once we discovered that our meal was Red. Mom was the only one who enjoyed her dinner that night. I realized that was why you should never name your livestock.

I really don’t know how I got started on this essay, or really how to end it. But like I said, some memories are good, some are bad and some just meld together, like those halcyon summer days, gathering eggs, fighting that ornery rooster and making friends with a pig. I recently saw an ad on Craig’s List for a small pot bellied pig. Free to a good home. Likes his belly rubbed. Aw, Red. I can’t convince Luscious that I need a pig. Maybe one day.

I can't keep a secret . . .

Shhhhhhhhhhhhh! I don't often share my deepest, darkest secrets. But I have to whisper this one to you. Come closer . . . . a little bit closer . . . .

I am a slow quilter. A plodding piecer of blocks. A slow sorter of scraps. I am however an excellent ripper of seams. My seam ripper has a name. It is Jack. I can sew the most wonderful one quarter inch seam, only to have it not line up correctly, so Jack to the rescue.

It goes without saying then, that I am not a speed demon. I blame myself, really. First of all, I wanted to blame the internet because when I see all the prolific quilters online with their completed projects day after day, totes, mug rugs, quilts of all sizes and types, I wonder how they do it? Do they set aside an hour or two, a day or a month? I use a minute timer and keep myself on task by giving myself a set amount of time to help me accomplish the dailies of my day. When do they clean or cook? How do they manage the laundry and kid's soccer games? I hang my head down and ask myself, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Then I go to my sewing area and strive to keep myself motivated to not feel a bit blue. Blue? I think I have a whole bin of assorted blues . . .

I also have adult A.D.D. Of course I do. I walk into my sewing studio, armed with block patterns in hand and begin to pull out the fabrics that I want to use. Why is it that I have all this fabric but when it comes to putting a few together I hate all the fabric I have. And then while I am picking through, I get nostalgic about some silly 5 inch charm that I can't find the perfect mate for. I can spend hours doing this. Then I dig through the mountain of fabrics I have pulled out to find the patterns I came downstairs with originally. It should also be shared that after all this time I am exhausted, and forgotten just what I was intending to do to begin with. There is really no hope.

I find it difficult to stay on task. I work better with a task ahead of me. But I do get sidetracked. Sigh. I make a master list each month of which block goes to whom in the various swaps I am in. And the process starts all over again.

I am living proof that not all Blondes are pin heads. I raised three children into well fed neurotic, although not quite thumb sucking, adults. I worked three jobs for more years than I can remember to keep them well fed, a roof over their heads and gently used second hand clothes to wear. Except I always purchased new underwear for them. See, there I go again. Dang! See how my mind works? It wanders down a path, chasing each thought until it reaches a wall and says Whoa! You really didn't need to know about their new underwear. Is that why I am so affectionately known as Blondie?

There is really no hope. I have given up since I know my brain while not exactly mushy, gets overwhelmed by so much sensory overload. Well, folksies, it is time to once again go down to my sewing studio and start picking up the fabric pieces again. I have two patterns to contemplate. I think I remember that bin of blues, but, then I think this pattern requires a gutsy, vibrant translation. It's a good thing I have learned to master the minute timer.

God Bless America

I've been really really busy with life . . .

Busy with Gracie, our newest addition . . .

taking walks with Gracie along our city nature trail - loverly this time of year . . .

we had visitors from out of town come by for a visit . . .

Been busy listening to the Foxglove tell me about

their Silver Artemesia neighbors

who are certainly happy that the Irises keep themselves tidy

while the phlox seem to have multiplying down to a beautiful art . . .

And speaking of multiplying . . . shhhh, don't tell this one, I've busy snapping yellow haired heads off it's kin

~Be Back Soon ~

You Gotta Enjoy Mid Life

Please pause my play list in the right side bar so you can enjoy this wonderful short video.

Hello Folksies
Yesterday was a cold and rainy day. And a dark and stormy night. What better time than to try to get caught up on some various blocks. I sat at the machine with sweet little Dinah stretched out in front of the machine, occasionally batting at the fabric and jumble of threads. I ate doughnuts and drank coffee all day long. Ahh, this is the life for me.
I have a busy week ahead of me so now is the time to post what I have gotten accomplished.
I got this cutie froggie done for the Friday Block Party.

These are going into the Block Lotto. I have made a few more, just no pics of those yet. Loving this block and especially grooving on the reds and white.

I began working on my Teeny Weeny Paper Piece Bee blocks.

And now to leave you with the lovliest of all thoughts for the day. Spring is almost here. The "yellow bells" (forsythia) are beginning to show their promise of sunshine and spring. Thank you Lord!

One down, one to go

Hello Folksies
Been mostly under the weather this past week, during which time I became well acquainted with every dust bunny in my house. Wonder why when I don't feel well enough to stand up I have the insatiable urge to clean but when I am feeling fine and dandy that cleaning is the last thing on my mind. I declare as I was lying in my sickly stupor all I could think of was if I died the people who came to get my body would know what a slob I really am. Thank goodness I am feeling better. I will clean later on.
Actually, I took a little bit of time to finish up a small project requiring some hand work. Two dear friends of mine asked me to make a few small quilts out of shirts which belonged to their Dad. Added to that was some very old and vintage fabric of their Mom's. After much cleaning, pressing, cutting and sewing, I found that I learned a whole lot during the first top. I finished the binding on it today, washed it, dried it and here it is:

It is not really big, but not so small either. Just big enough to cuddle under.
I quilted by hand lots of flowers, butterflies, hearts, and curliques. The blocks aren't perfect, but then again, neither am I. I know that the sisters will cherish having their Daddy's arms around them.

I love how a freshly laundered quilt just crinkles up and feels instantly softly aged. Now on to complete the second one.

Pins and Needles - an easy needle case to make

I have a thing for pincushions, needle cases, scissor fobs, any gadget-y type of thingamajig. I am always making something new to hold those objects. I have pincushions in every room, sometimes more than one to a room and needlecases in every tote or bag.
The other day I was looking through some of my scraps of strings and thought, this is a good size for a needle case. Okay, I really didn’t need another one, but, my sister did! Sisters are handy dandy folk to have around, especially when they enjoy stitching as much as I do. It isn’t her birthday or Christmas and it’s past Valentine’s Day, however I really don’t need an excuse or reason to make something special for my baby sister, Cat.

Here is a quick tutorial on how I made it.

First, find some scrap strings about let’s say approx. 9” in length and 4” in diameter. You will also need the same dimensions of batting or felt for the innards and for the lining. Also a bit of red cut in the shape of a heart.

Center the heart on the string foundation.

You will want to embroider this- by hand or machine, whichever you are comfy with.

Once you have it sewn securely, you will want to turn it over and remove some of the stitches that are within the circumference of the heart. You will then carefully stuff this with polyester fiberfill.

After stuffing, slip stitch the opening closed and begin sewing your sandwich together.

You can use a decorative stitch or straight stitch. You really just want to make sure it is bound together. Take care at where the heart was stuffed, ending your stitching just before you reach there and picking up again right after the stuffed heart.

You are now ready for the binding

For a super easy instructional on binding I don’t think you could find a better tut than from the Missouri Star Quilt Company (ps) if you are really wanting to learn some quick and easy quilt projects, take a peek at their many fun videos. Quack!


Once you have the binding on, you’re almost done!

Okay, so I got a little ahead of myself and forgot to take some extra pictures. I think you can figure out how I got to here.

Cut out another heart shape and place it on the lining right behind the front stuffed heart. This will be a nice place to hold your sewing needle.

In the center, I attached a lobster claw clasp to clip my nippers to.

On the opposite end of the inside heart, I attached a few plastic circles generally used for café curtains. Through these you can pull some floss and voila! You have a neat and tidy little needle case to carry with you anywhere!

Ta Da!