Finch me

Hey.  What's happening people?  Not much here.  Just a really bad entire afternoon wasted on this little fricking finch.  I've had distress before when a project would not cooperate, but this bird riled my feathers big time.  And every time I had to make an adjustment, he got a little bit smaller.  Much smaller.  Over and over and if the lighter was in my sewing room, well, let's just say the siren would have gone off.  Instead of discarding or destroying, I decided to allow him to fly elsewhere.  You want him?  Leave your email or full initials in the comments and Thursday evening at 9, I will draw a name, get an address, and set him free.

 

As the others, button on the back to hold a ribbon which can be removed.  The button wasn't sewn on until after it was stuffed and shut since I had planned on an execution, so it may not be dead center.

 

 

Enough ribbon to hang over a large knob.

 

Just untie and adjust to the length required, like shorter on a basket handle.

This is not a perfect finish, may have a little anger misalignment, a little spot of undetected glue, a cat hair, a few obscenities buried in the batting.  But it's free.

 

Fly away you little finch.

 

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Houston, we have a color

Eureka.  A powerful vacuum cleaner, a city in California and Missouri, a SyFy series, and my scream of the day.  Another gallon, another day, this time close enough.  I think I have finally achieved what I call a charcoal brown.  Not reddish not greenish not taupey not orangey not saturated, just a dark yet soft shade of gray in the shade and brown in the sun.

The trim and windows are waiting, the door is ordered, the stain is finally chosen, last step is having them match a flat exterior paint to it for windows and garage doors.  Tints are not the same for stain as they are for paint but I am assured the tweaking will not be complicated.  The contractor is coming this week to check what lumber is required and we're off to the races.

 

My girls are shedding their coats for summer and looking rather messy, but still cute as can be.  I am shedding the winter clothes in my closet.  When I find something that fits and I like, I buy different colors of the same item.  But this year, all those sweats and sweaters sat because the necks were fitted crew and I could not get them on or off with my shoulder problem.  Might as well pack them up and move on, especially since I believe spring is finally here.  Beautiful sunny and warm days gracing my section of earth.

Hope your week goes well!

 

Thanks for visiting.

 

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Beyond the crabby

Some needleworkers like to punch.   I would love to do that right now.

Some needleworkers prefer stitching.  It's what a victim of my ire would need.

Some needleworkers enjoy the finish.  Oh how I would love to get there.

Some needleworkers prefer a sharp needle.  Nothing can be sharper than my tongue.

Some needleworkers like a larger eye.  I'd like to blacken a few.

Some needleworkers like their linen to be soft in hand.  I'd rather have a rock in mine.

Some needleworkers have their threads wound.  Tight enough to break?

Some needleworkers are very nice people, with kind words, forgiveness, and patience.

And one needleworker is not.

But she will get over it.  Nothing is worth ruining a weekend, a day, an hour, when we don't know if it may be our last.  And if it's not (whew), starting it with an attitude sets the tone for a wasted day.  How many more do we have?   Daily trials and tribulations are a part of life and nothing compared to the life and death and suffering of others. Get angry, get over it.  Have an extra chocolate or two or three.  Pull up your brand new big girl panties.  Look up at the sky in the morning and start fresh.  And ponder why panties are so damn expensive.  I know why they're big.

 

Have a great Sunday folks.

 

I know I will.  Pen to paper (fingers to keyboard) does indeed help.

 

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Change is good

At least it was for the goldfinch.  Removing the 924 at the bottom, for some reason, made a big difference in the look of this tweet.  The softer neutrals worked out well and I think the yellow looks fine on this blue whereas before it was just too much.  I tried my best to make this little guy recognizable as the finch, he's a little too tall I believe, but I wanted to keep the counts similar.  Close enough.  I am thinking about a chickadee with his black accents on a pale yellow linen as a companion.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I changed the stitch pattern at the bottom and the two extra stitches are just that and will be within the seam.

 

Backing requires a decision, which requires too much brain space right now.

 

 

 

 

It's snowing.  Happy tax day.

 

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I found it

The tweety I was working on disappeared after I removed the 924 thread.  Being distracted by family matters, I didn't do a thorough search and assumed it would show up.  It did.  When I used the dusting mop under the sofa.  Since it was found in the area where Missy destroys my threads, I assumed the hole in the linen was caused by those mini mouth daggers.

 

No big deal.  I've woven a linen thread in a much longer area before and this was a very short distance to weave.  I removed the longer piece and started from the break working out, leaving a long enough tail to complete the other side.

The mistake I made was removing an end linen thread vertically when the patch was horizontal.  There may be a slight difference in the thickness, sheen, something, and although it looks OK I will pull from the same direction next time.  Just in case.

 

She is a stinker.  She was enjoying the two warm days we had and investigated a door she never entered through.

 

Can you believe April is half over? 

Have a great start to your week.

Thanks for visiting.

 

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One man's junk

is now my treasure.  I've been helping my cousins go through Aunt Helen's house, and brought home a few things they were throwing out.  We took a very large crucifix and other religious items the boys offered to Carole.  When delivering them, I mentioned to her that her bedroom is starting to look like a chapel.

 

This was a screened trough she was filling with corn for the deer, hasn't been used in several years since her boys blocked the steep steps to the back yard.  It was at the curb!  After lining the bottom with two layers of landscape fabric, I see a coat of white or bright blue chipped paint with Creeping Jenny and Vinca vines cascading.

 

My grandparents were from Italy and Poland, all came with nothing.  The only time there was a gift given was when they became citizens.   As time went on and the children became adults, that frugality stayed with them and rarely was anything purchased that was not necessary. 

 

So my mom's and her sister's rhinestone jewelry, rarely worn, are now with me.  The only glamorous items they owned.  Even when they could afford a little splurge, their parents' way of life was still a great influence, and if anyone got a gift or new shoes, it was the children.  Back then, mothers sacrificed all for their children.  It was understood that bringing a life into the world required 15 years of selflessness and total devotion, the absolute and most important task on earth.  So for me to own what must have made them feel as beautiful outside as they were inside, is a privilege.

 

I have Baba's and Nona's pearl collars that dressed their plain sweaters, and the other pieces were mom's.  When in today's world we get what we want, and credit cards make it all possible, can you imagine how meaningful it was for a woman back then to own a few special pieces?  So although they are costume jewelry and tossed aside by others, I can see how important and treasured this jewelry was.

 

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