tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40630457590791475952024-02-21T06:11:27.082-08:00Jane's ObsessionJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-18767117376785423062014-05-14T11:51:00.000-07:002014-05-14T11:51:11.008-07:00Mother's Day Gifts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Thinking of Summer!<div>
This Mother's Day was chaos - as usual. Both daughters called to say that cards would be late - their lives seem to be as chaotic as mine - must be genetic. Both reminded me how impossible I am to shop for since my true love is needlepoint and I already own a store full of needlepoint.</div>
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We were at my granddaughter's college graduation but had to make a hasty run home from Charleston to get my husband on a plane for an emergency trip to Albuquerque. Out there our 2 month old granddaughter was in ICU on a respirator. Terry was needed to watch over the 4-year old. It took most of the day to make sure he had enough of all 13 (yes - 13) prescriptions to last for 3 weeks. Got him to the airport and ran to take Mom out to dinner.</div>
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I got home that evening fairly exhausted - waiting to take shoes off and relax when I noticed my formerly-known-as-feral outdoor cat doing everything at the back door except back flips. As I opened the door, I was presented with my first actual gift of the day - a huge dead rat. I am not sure what I did to deserve such a wonderful treat, but I thanked her profusely and had to sneak out at 2 a.m. to throw the thing into the woods.</div>
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In light of Mother's Day, I wanted to share with you part of a blog written by a wonderful young college student named Gatesy Hill. I have a link at the bottom so you could go to read her entire blog. It is well worth reading in its entirety. How refreshing it is to have young stitchers finding as much pleasure in needlepoint as we always have! I will start in the middle of what she wrote:</div>
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"This new hobby definitely puts me even more in the "mom" status box I was placed in throughout the years with friends dating back to High School, but I didn't care, and I still don't.</div>
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Now, being me,I,of course, am going to go deeper. It is really amazing how well you get to know each canvas. It sounds bizarre, I know. But there is nothing like the feel of a canvas that has been completed....</div>
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But, I always think about the little journey that particular canvas saw me through. A day in bed with one of those bad colds I am notorious for getting. A rough period where I am experiencing a large change, like my parents brief move into a smaller house this summer, my grandmother's death, and then our move back IN to my childhood home. Or even just some quiet time with me, my stitches, and my thoughts (Quiet time is really a lost art; but that's a different post for a different day). Nonetheless, I have come to love this practice in my life. It's funny how you can express yourself, even amongst a form....The freedom to make a piece your own, but honoring the original form the canvas came in. A new canvas, even with the image painted on, still lends itself to endless possibilities: i.e. the freedom within the form."</div>
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http://geggersinc.blogspot.com/2014/03/stitching-it-all-together.html</div>
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On a both heavier and yet lighter note, I was called by a husband of one of my favorite stitchers - a sprite of a 91-year-old named Lib Dills. Wayne said to come quick - Lib was in Hospice and he knew she would like to see me. She was slipping in and out of consciousness. When I got there and leaned down to kiss her, she opened her eyes and gave me the biggest smile and a hug, and then slipped out of consciousness. Her niece and her nephew were both there and were most undone. I was told that they had been there all day and Lib had never recognized either of them. Why me - they wanted to know. I explained it the only way I knew how. I gave them an analogy that sadly probably fits best. If Lib were a drug addict, I would best be described as her dealer. Needlepoint is - after all - an addiction, isn't it???<br /><br /></div>
Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-21705701779991434112013-12-19T07:51:00.002-08:002013-12-19T07:51:48.433-08:00As the Needle Points 12/13Since a lot of you have called to ask about the lawsuit, here's the recent rundown.<br />
We filed ages ago for a change of venue to get the lawsuit moved out of federal court in New York and into court here. This should have been simple. However, they have tried every way possible to stop the change of venue - each time resulting in a new filing. This last month, they claimed my twin in New York was a large presence in my business and she lives in New York, so the case should stay there. As many of you know, my twin is on Wall Street. To trade on Wall Street, you have to file with the SEC listing each and every business you have an interest in. Needlepoint and my business are alien to her. We had the SEC send her filing over to the court and again refiled. Total so far $52,000 and counting . Their lawyer is like the junkyard dog - incredibly aggressive. I wish he was mine.<br />
More of you have wonderfully asked about Mom. She is an endless source of amusement. This will go down as the Christmas Mom stole Santa. Mom wouldn't join the whole family for Thanksgiving - too many people. I could not have her alone for the entire day, so I drove up to have breakfast with her. Mom has always considered herself the arbiter of good taste and hated crafts. On her table was a Santa made up of 3 flower pots glued together and painted to look like Santa. I commented on how cute it was and asked where she got it. Her answer floored me. " I stole it". She wasn't kidding. She said she walked past a room, saw 3 on the table, wanted one, none was around - so she took it. I reminded her that someone might do the same to one of her wonderful baskets she makes - not knowing what else to say. When I went back last week to visit, the Santa was gone. I asked about it and was told in a strange voice that she had returned it. Later, we were walking past the shop at Aldersgate that sells crafts made by the residents and there were 3 of the Santas for sale. I told Mom I was going in to buy her one. I was told not to bother - she didn't like them THAT much. She just took it because it was fun. I am hoping this is not the start of a crime spree by a 93-year-old. I'd hate to have to visit her in jail.<br />
I will try to have pictures up of the class projects by December 23rd. Here are the dates and descriptions - I'll post prices when I get the pictures up. Look under "Classes"on website.<br />
Ongoing monthly mail-out classes:<br />
1) A Victorian village with 4 Petei carolers, a lamppost, and several houses. Houses will be 4" by 7" tall. Not too big.<br />
2) a beach theme group of ornaments -a crab, flamingo, pelican, sandcastle, beach tote, palm tree, flip-flops, a beach chair, a mermaid, a seahorse<br />
Other classes:<br />
Saturdays February 8 and 22 - 2 classes for the canvas by Lee we have named SHOOZE with 6 shoes,<br />
using 12 stitches from 10 till….<br />
Saturday March 15 an Easter basket<br />
Sunday March 23 - canvas painting from 1 till 5 at my house<br />
Saturday April 4 - the Indian couple that are companions to the Pilgrims we did earlier<br />
Saturday May 10th - a stand-up Statue of Liberty<br />
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I think from the fur on my gorgeous used-to-be feral cat it is going to be a good winter to curl up and stitch. Later! Jane<br />
<br />Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-1476119770400320052013-11-13T06:12:00.001-08:002013-11-13T06:12:38.699-08:00Nightmare on Main Street<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For the 37 years I have been in business, I have always had a basket of "work" in my car, by my bed, and where I watch television. I usually cringe at how much I "have to do" - as though it is something I dread to do.<br />
Fast forward to Halloween week. I go to the rheumatologist about other lupus-related things going on. I hadn't mentioned my hands, but as I physically unbent my right index finger with my left hand to write something, it stopped the doctor in her tracks. Seems I have developed Trigger Finger on the right hand, carpal tunnel on the left thumb. Both severe. I have to have them immobilized for 6 weeks. Sounds simple.<br />
The first test was the car one. When we were young, we bought my mother a car floor mat with a brake pedal : back-seat driving was her specialty. The first thing my husband asks when we get in the car - "where's your needlepoint?". For a good reason. If I am watching, it is continually necessary for me to jump, gasp or scream to save us from immediate destruction. Oh, Lord, I am my mother! I prefer not to watch almost as much as he prefers it. We drove on a short trip the other day. It wasn't pretty.<br />
The next test: church. I sing in the choir. I have long held contempt for those who "dog-eared" the music to turn the pages. There is no earthly reason to deface the music like that. Luckily, I had the anthem for Sunday memorized or I would have been in deep trouble. I must have had a look of horror on my face when I found I couldn't turn the page, because I noticed one on the face of Miranda who stands next to me when she realized I wasn't turning any pages. And God said "Ha!". Must now be one who dog-ears.<br />
Now to television. I listen. I seldom look up - except for the Netflix Borgia series which was so incredibly horrible I couldn't look away for entire series. I had no idea what characters I thought I knew looked like. Seems my imagination was better than reality. Except for the actor Shemar something on Criminal Minds, my inner reality was better. Now I HAVE to watch. It is maddening just to sit there like a lump and not do something. I HATE JUST SITTING. There is nothing to do but eat while you sit there. I will be a pig by the time this is over.<br />
Cooking is interesting, as is eating. I keep poking myself in the eye with the metal finger. I chopped onions the other day and the left brace is a constant reminder of that. The smell may never go away. What this tells me is that the work I felt I HAD to do is actually the work I LOVE to be doing. I guess that I never knew how much.Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-64560817878268809262013-10-17T07:17:00.000-07:002013-10-17T07:17:30.515-07:00Why Needlepoint?Three events came together in the past 3 weeks that made me appreciate what I do for a living and what my customers.<br />
I went to my 45th college reunion. I had gone to Sophie Newcomb - the women's division of Tulane University. All the women in my class were go-getters and have gone on to be judges, attorneys, museum curators, and so on . The list is mind-boggling. I went with fear and trepidation. I was almost embarrassed to admit that I own a needlepoint shop. How "cutesy" - how mundane. Much to my dismay, I ended up being admired. Almost every woman I talked to said " You STILL love what you do????". Seems most were burned out by now and simply in holding patterns until retirement. And, yes, I still love what I do - probably even more today than 37 years ago when I started the business. I have made friends from all walks of life, friends of all ages. People who walk in my doors come because they WANT to be here.<br />
The other two events were funerals of friends I made through the shop. Very different but both very courageous women. Eunice was 93. Probably the most independent woman I have ever met. When her children took away her car at 92 ( she had had a little "fender bender" ) she was frightened that she couldn't get here to get her supplies. We found workarounds - if she couldn't get here, I'd go to her.<br />
The other woman - Beverly - fought a long long hard hard battle against multiple myeloma. An amazing woman in many ways.<br />
Here's what happened: At both funerals, noone knew I was coming so nothing said was for my personal benefit. At BOTH funerals, much was made in the elegies about all the wonderful needlepoint both had done and had given. The family members all said how lucky they were to have so many things to remember her by and to keep her a part of their daily lives. Both were remembered for what giving people they were and for the time she had given them in making the stockings, pillows , ornaments and such for them and for others.<br />
I realized that I had inadvertantly brought joy to both the stitcher and the families. You, as stitchers, do this every day. So, I'll stay in business so that you can keep creating meaningful things for all those you love.Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-89090705392143629272013-09-08T11:18:00.002-07:002013-09-08T11:18:52.125-07:00Gone but Not ForgottenI guess I have been incredibly blessed in my life. I haven't had to say goodbye to many loved ones. That is good, because I am not good at it. Truth to tell - I NEVER really have said goodbye to any of them. I keep them with me.<br />
My parents collected Oriental art. I grew up surrounded by wonderful museum-quality pieces. Dad would rather have a piece of art than food if given the choice. As we were growing up, Dad would tell me over and over about each piece. If Chinese, the dynasty it was created in and what else was done during that historical time. If Japanese, the area it came from. He told me where he bought each piece, what was going on in his life at the time, and why that particular piece appealed to him. I am now surrounded in my own home by many of these pieces. I hear Dad's voice every day as I sit in front of the Chinese screen, as I pass by and pat my Foo Dogs on the head, as I look up to see the old old Ginger jars. More than anything I treasure a needlepoint piece hanging on my dining room wall that he did not too many years before he died. We would sit for hours in Florida and needlepoint together. He is still with me.<br />
The two women I loved DEARLY who have died were my grandmother ( she was already the subject of a blog I wrote) and my best friend for 46 years- Donna. Both women couldn't have been more different, but they both had the same obsession - jewelry. My grandmother was the strongest woman I have ever known, and Donna the weakest. When my grandfather went off with other women, my grandmother bought diamonds. Donna had a sad life from start to finish. She made herself feel better by buying jewelry. I have been the unwitting recipient of their purchases and I treasure each piece. I wear them according to my needs of the moment. If I need strength ( and lately fighting the frivolous and expensive lawsuit from the other Two's Company I need it a lot) I wear a little or mass quantities of my grandmother's jewelry. I have been piling it on lately to gain strength from it and from her. I feel close to her with it on. In dealing with my daughters, I wear Donna's jewelry to commemorate what she went through with her daughter. I know they are both close by.<br />
And so it was with incredible sadness that I had to face the end of Doodle's life. Doodles was bought by my daughter many years ago. Jennifer had 2 other cats. Doodles wasn't a social cat at that time. However, I always felt she was mine. She would come out of hiding whenever I went over there. I would sneak over when no one was home to groom her and help with the huge knots she would get in her long silky hair. After a while, Doodles retreated to a closet and refused to come out. Jennifer, at her wits end, was going to either put her down or bring her to me. So - to the shop she came. From the first day, she was the epitome of the perfect shop cat. She was at the door to greet each and every customer. She never tried to run away. She never got into the thousands of skeins of threads readily available. She was by the door waiting when I got there and went to the door with me in the evenings. Last year, she started limping and losing weight. We tried cortisone shots, and they worked for a while. Later tests showed cancer was the problem. I could keep the pain at bay for her with drops of painkillers. They worked for the past few months. I brought her home to be by my side more. She never left my side when I was here - watching me all the time. <br />
On Wednesday, Doodles couldn't stand up. I called the Vet to see if I could up her pain medication and was told that that would make her violently ill. I knew the time had come to make the decision I did not want to make - so I made the appointment. I ran out of the house to buy a camellia bush. I have never had one - and I wanted one so that every time I looked off my back porch I would see Doodles. Enter my husband. I am amazed men and women are from the same planet. I told him of my decision. His first question "How much will they charge?" Did it matter? He told me he would put her down for me quickly and painlessly - and for free. We have no gun. I was picturing him bashing out her brains or wringing her neck. He was not my favorite person at that moment. I told him to dig the hole and I'd be back.Only when he saw the tears did he give up his quest to go to the Y and work out and he dug my hole. I needed everything in place. I took Doodles. As usual, her eyes never left my face, and it was that way until I saw the life totally go out of them. She was watching me and I was watching her- my hand on her paw. I brought her home, put her in her bed, and put it in the hole. Over her went bags of miracle grow. It has only been 3 days, but there are flower buds breaking out all over that plant. I still cry every time I look at it, but I will always see Doodles hopefully for as long as I am here.<br />
Now I have to be a big girl. Megan and Deb were at the shop yesterday for the last time. For 9 years, Megan, Deb, Doodles and I were at the shop. Megan and Deb are thankfully alive and well, but Megan is moving to Shreveport and deb to Dallas - both going to exciting new jobs. I wish them well -but again, they will be gone but not forgotten. Saturdays will be hard for a while.Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-22193756892327001272013-05-11T16:56:00.003-07:002013-05-11T16:56:32.074-07:00Mom made me do it!Many many years ago, I was put to bed. I had previously miscarried, so this pregnancy I had to keep a little quieter than my normal frenetic pace. I don't sit still well. I was not doing well. Mom came to the rescue. Mom was a needlepointer. In her life - her life with my father - she needed calm and peace. She found it in needlepoint. She didn't like doing the colors - she didn't like anything fancy. She LOVED the tranquility of doing a background in a beautiful shade on a preworked piece. That was what she decided I needed to do.<br />
Mom brought me a little duck to make into a seat for a little chair. She taught me to basketweave. About 2" into the piece, I revolted. I asked Mom to get me some blank canvas and some colors. I had no earthly idea what I was doing, but I was bound and determined to create my own design. I had a blast! By the time Jennifer was born, I was on a roll. After a few years, I was painting canvases for me, my friends and all my aunts.<br />
I moved to Lexington when Jennifer was 4. I was pregnant with Elizabeth. It was a hormonal surge that changed my life again. I was driving in an older section of town and saw a "For Rent" sign. I was furious because the only needlepoint shop in Lexington didn't allow any children to enter. Jennifer was the best behaved child in the world - HOW DARE THEY! So, of course, I rented the old townhouse and went home to tell my husband that I was opening a shop. Mom was the only one who was as thrilled as I was. She has always been and will always be my biggest supporter - my cheerleader.<br />
Mom is 92 - soon to be 93. My husband calls her The Queen Mother. She plays bridge 3 days a week and makes gorgeous baskets on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Life has a way of toying with you - this has turned out to be the happiest time of her life. Mom was one of 6 kids. They were abandoned by their father when she was 6. She married my Dad. While I adored him, I must admit he would have been impossible for me to be married to him. Murder and mayhem come to mind. I had a younger brother born with lung cancer. He actually lived to be 40 but was mentally unstable and in and out of prison. She can finally relax and not dread the telephone ringing.<br />
Those of you who know me know that if I don't see Mom on Sunday, she is in the Emergency Room on Monday. A trip we were taking to Ireland was almost derailed by a hospital trip for all the following; appendicitis, gall bladder problems, uterine cancer. The fact that she had no appendix, no gall bladder and no uterus made no difference.<br />
I owe my life to this woman in so very many ways. First, just the fact that she is my Mom. Second, I would not have been doing what I LOVE for 37 years without her pushing me into it. Thirdly, she has loved me unconditionally. I needed that. She tells me when I screw up, she praises me when I do well. She always speaks her mind. I can't imagine life without her.<br />
Happy Mother's Day !Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-67012482685066133272013-01-31T07:01:00.002-08:002013-01-31T07:01:31.221-08:00God helps the Hapless with Hurricane SandyI was reminded yesterday that I have been a failure at blogging. Time is my enemy. I have been meaning to post this since Sandy hit.<br />
The story involves several different groups of characters.<br />
My twin sister has been on Wall street since 1969. It has been a brutal place for women. Over 25 years ago, she realized that she needed to be able to escape the city time and again if she was to have any sanity. She bought a wonderful old old home on the ocean in an old whaling village called Orient - as far out onto the tip of Long Island as she could get. To de-stress, she hung a swing on her front porch where she could sit and drink and glass of wine , watch the ocean and chill out .<br />
My husband discovered the island when we went to visit Myrna and Judy. He fell in love with the place. Orient is inhabited by a wonderful group of brilliant gay women - editors, surgeons, artists. None of them are handy. Enter my husband. He loves oysters and clams more than any other food. He is the ultimate handyman, a jack of all trades.The women discovered that he could be bought - an oyster gigilo as it were. The phone rings early when we are there. "Can Terry come fix my screen door? I'll take him to the dock for oysters and beer". He's off like a shot.<br />
Now we add to the mix a man and wife - both New York divorce lawyers. Megabucks. In front of my sister's home between her house and the ocean is a service road to the yacht club. In a semicircle of this service road was land that was never to be sold. Somehow these two bought it - and planted HUGE cedars. The covenants of the village state that nothing over 3 feet is to be planted along the ocean. These two just pay the fines and keep going. They totally blocked the view of the ocean from my sister's porch.<br />
Terry and I were visiting. My sister has survived 5 cancer surgeries - 3 breast cancer surgeries, and thyroid and parathyroid cancer surgery. We were drinking wine and staring at the cedars. She got quite tearful looking at them and saying how much she missed the ocean. You understand that I would kill for this woman.<br />
Everyone went to bed - but I went to the internet. " How to kill Cedars". You cannot imagine what all came up, but the most expedient method is to drill a hole in the trunk and fill it with antifreeze. Hmmm. Judy had a drill, and had antifreeze. I had only to find some dark clothes. Keep in mind that I don't even kill bugs - I catch them and release outside. This was difficult for me. I apologized to each tree as I went around. I wasn't sure it would work. I broke off a branch and plugged each hole as I went. My sister caught me as I was returning to the house. "What if they had survellience cameras?" Good question. No problem - they would think it was Judy. After all, we're twins.<br />
Six months later, my sister called and said "Open your email". "Why" '"JUST DO IT. It's the great cedar blight!!!". The trees were falling right and left. Her view was back! Mass quantities of wine were drunk to celebrate. But, sadly, that was shortlived. They planted new trees. I wasn't sure I want up to killing more trees. God might get me. But, it would have to be done this Spring as soon as I could get there.<br />
SAVED BY SANDY. While very little good came from the hurricane, I can only think God did this particular deed to save me from myself. All trees were obliterated. My twin's home has to have new floors and appliances, but for the most part was unscathed. The lovely couple - well, their home was hit quite hard. They are selling and moving. What a shame! Terry can't wait to get back to his adoring fans and the oysters, I can't wait to get back to see the ocean.<br />
<br />Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-80990744202646675292012-12-13T13:24:00.001-08:002012-12-13T13:24:16.550-08:00As the Needle Points - winter 2012Okay - I have not "blogged" lately - and now it's time for the newsletter rather than a blog.<br />
The biggest news from the shop is not only that Doodles is still alive - but that she actually seems to be a little better. She still looks like a cat from Auschwitz, but she is eating and back to greeting the customers.<br />
Linda got a new dog - this time a SMALL dog that doesn't tear her shoulder off or literally drag her down the street. This seems to be a true love match as opposed to the love/hate with the Portuguese Water dogs.<br />
Randi is golfing on every beautiful day she can find - and I hate her for that.<br />
Tasha is happy, happy, happy at College of Charleston (sniffle - we miss her here), and is working at Michael Kors there.<br />
Megan hasn't won the lottery so she still has to work full time Family Dollar as an accountant - and luckily for me on Saturdays.<br />
Moved Mom into assisted living, so I actually am breathing a little easier than I was and have a little more time than I had. Terry hasn't been in the hospital since August, so I consider that a coup.<br />
Now for the sale news: TWO BIG NOTES. Not pictured on the "shop in the sky" are canvases from the 2 trunk shows we will have going on sale week: a belt trunk show and a trunk show from Dream House Ventures. Go to their website and look at all their different designers. If you fall in love with something and we have it in the trunk show, we will honor the sale price.<br />
CLASSES:<br />
1) January 19th, Saturday - I am repeating the class on background stitches. It is almost full, so call early if you want to join us for that. The class will run $35.00<br />
2) Halloween canvas of the month: Each month will have a different halloween character, so you will have a little "village" at the end. I plan to have a ghost, a vampire, a vulture, a witch, a black cat on a pumpkin, a house, a coffin with a skeleton, a mummy to start. Each month will be one canvas with a stitch guide and all the threads. They will run from $38.00 up to the house canvas which will probably be around $65.00 for the kit. I only have 10 coffins, so the size of the class will be limited and I already have 4 signed up. See pictures on website in a few days.<br />
3) I am doing a second canvas of the month of crosses. Very fancy. Sizes will vary from 4" to 7". Some will have jewels, some all metallics, some a little more plain to allow for stitches. Costs for kits will run from $40.00. The ones with crystals will be a little more.<br />
4) February 16th, saturday, I will repeat the class on Architectural stitches. Again. it will run $35.00<br />
Have a safe and happy holiday season - and keep stitching!<br />
JaneJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-39130769305689608022012-09-05T08:53:00.001-07:002012-09-05T08:53:22.961-07:00Grandmothers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Kay Cline brought in her latest creation - Leigh's Alehouse Annie. It reminded me of my grandmother - believe it or not. She didn't smoke cigars - only Kool cigarettes - and always wore Jungle Gardenia perfume. When she died, I wore her old mink until it fell apart because the smell reminded me of her.<div>
My grandmother was the most blatant character in our lives - and we all LOVED her. She stood all of 4'10" tall. She was a blond - but the shade changed frequently. She was brilliant.</div>
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My grandmother and my great-grandfather were part of a group around the country chosen to write an encyclopedia. She had huge volumes she kept under her bed in her apartment above the funeral home. She worked on these every night in bed until she fell asleep. She only burned down the funeral home once from falling asleep while smoking in bed.</div>
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Mamaw had a huge Saint Bernard - Buff. Buff travelled with her everywhere. She always drove a huge Cadillac - you couldn't tell there was a driver she was so short. She always drove right down the centerline of the road - would have made a great pilot. Her cars resembled mashed beer cans from "all those idiots who hit her" in every parking lot - so she traded them in every 2 years. If Buff got hungry, she would dump a can of Kennel Ration on the floorboard in the back.</div>
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Mamaw taught Sunday School at the Methodist Church. Her class (they started with her when they were teenagers - and they refused to leave her as they grew) were all in their 30s when I was with her. She also played the organ for the services. She found most sermons to be boring. My job was to sit in the choir loft next to her and keep her from snoring during the sermon.</div>
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She had a cure for everything. I had a horrible case of poison ivy on my face when I was 12. It was a Saturday - no doctors available. She didn't want it to get into my eyes, so she took her best shot. Embalming Fluid. I not only got rid of the poison ivy - I also got rid of most of my skin. My face won't tan to this day.</div>
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My grandson just spent the last 5 days with me. I wish more than anything that he will look back on my life and laugh like we do about Mamaw's. Unfortunately - I can't hold a candle. Her piece de resistance - she bought an elephant. A real one. After the 1937 flood, the funeral home had lost all its' furnishings. There was an Oriental Rug company in Louisville going out of business. My grandmother took cash and went to buy rugs. At the same time , there was a circus going out of business and practically giving away its animals - so she bought a baby elephant. My grandfather made her return it - but to this day we all still laugh at the story. There is no way I can beat that.<br /><br /></div>
Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-48426905248172094312012-08-28T06:10:00.002-07:002012-08-28T06:10:38.074-07:00WeddingsWe just spent a magical weekend with what constituted 90% of our family - 3 days together celebrating Adam's wedding. You don't have many times like that in life where all are healthy and happy and together. It made me think back to my own first wedding ( maybe I'll blog about the others later).<br />
When my sister and I were born, we each had our own Nanny. Mine was Lilly ( shortened to E later on). Judy's nanny was NanNan. E was with us all of my single life and some of my married life.<br />
When I was young , Mom would rip us apart if we used the bathroom designated and built into our house for the help. Until I read 'The Help", I assumed she would get mad because she was sure we would mess up their bathroom. Is it possible to be that naive at 65-years-old???<br />
When my Dad planned my wedding ( every single detail ), he didn't count on one important aspect - Lilly. I wouldn't get married without E there with me. E wasn't allowed in the Pendennis Club. I refused to get married without her. A truce was finally called. The Pendennis Club would allow me to take a "dresser" to help me. She, however, could not come in the front door or without me. So... my favorite wedding picture is my new husband, me and Lilly in the limo riding from the church to the Pendennis Club. I went in the back door with E - I wasn't going to have her go in that door alone.<br />
Switch back to present. My new family. With us this weekend were my half-Chinese, half-Thai stepson Michael, his Filipino wife Roselyn, their child Garrett, our non-adopted Japanese son Ken, my daughter Jennifer, her husband Phil, and her son Andrew and step-daughter Tasha, Terry's son Brent, his wife Debbie, and his son Brentan and step-daughter Megan. His, hers and ours for Adam's wedding. Adam's new wife - part Portuguese. She fits right in, doesn't she?<br />
What tells me this is a different world we live in was the grandchildren. All ages, all colors of skin playing together. The best line of the night of the rehearsal dinner came from Michael's son. Garrett had been playing with Brentan. Brentan left to go to the bathroom. Garrett ran in and yelled " Has anybody seen the little white boy?"<br />
Three nights of going to bed afterf 1 a.m. I can barely function. Who cares?<br />
<br />Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-39199132308047215462012-08-16T06:27:00.000-07:002012-08-16T06:27:39.481-07:00R.I.P. K'wan Yin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A few years ago my eyes were driving me crazy. I have a way of working out problems in my dreams. I dreamt that I was losing my vision, so I developed "work-arounds". Instead of reading I would use books on tape, etc.etc. I decided for something creative, since I couldn't paint, I would sculpt. When I woke up, I announced to Terry that I was going to do this. He is the most supportive husband in the world. I found a 3-day class at the Ringling School of Art and went down to Sarasota. In 3 days, I had a 25 pound head - Roy. Move over Rodin - I was on the way to becoming famous. I loved the feel of the clay, I loved the freedom of just using my hands instead of a tiny paintbrush.<div>
I returned to Charlotte and called everywhere to find a teacher. No luck.</div>
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Two months ago, out of the blue, I got a call from an incredibly talented sculptor - Chase Winfield - who wanted to know if I would like to study with him. Oh, my. Game on ! He told me to come to class with what I wanted to do in mind. When I told him I was going to do a 24" tall goddess his eyebrows shot up - but he didn't utter a word of discouragement. The picture was taken after my 3rd class. I was ecstatic. When I went in for the 4th class, someone had knocked over my statue and destroyed it. I spent that class just getting the proportions back - and this time took her home to work on her. I got everything done but the face.</div>
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Last week, I drove to Charlotte. I hate wasting the time to drive there - but the 2 hours spent in class overweigh the time on the road. I got to class - teacher had his days mixed up and wasn't there. I started home. A young woman ran a red light. I had to slam on my brakes and swerve off the road. I pretty much knew what I would find when I unwrapped the statue - so I waited a day. I now have a tall mess of clay on my hands. Totally ruined - without redemption.</div>
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Here's the thing. They say there are no accidents. Was this meant to be? I have absolutely no desire to start over. I don't know if it is due to the loss our good friend, Terry's ensuing hospitalization, too much real work that has to be done, or too much going on with the upcoming wedding. All I know is that Rodin can rest in peace - I won't be stealing any of his thunder anytime soon. Notice I didn't even try for Michaelangelo status - I know better. Maybe the accident was to tell me just to drop this for now. Sometimes I am a little dense and miss the message I should have gotten. So - for now - I'm still in business as a needlepoint canvas painter. Luckily, it's something I love doing.</div>
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Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-7331647440871565322012-08-11T07:01:00.001-07:002012-08-11T07:01:45.495-07:00Lions and Tigers and Bears - Oh My!Many have commented on my cryptic "finishing" statements. Let me elaborate what the last 6 months have been like:<br />
1) the wonderful shoe finisher in San Francisco finished a pair of mules for a customer size 5 1/2 instead of 7 1/2. We sent them back in March to be redone. They fired the shoe finisher who did them and have yet to find another finisher. The shoes are in limbo<br />
2) Leatherprize - a purse finisher I have used for 35 years - finished 2 monogram satchel bags for me to the tune of $500.00 each. One problem - she switched the monograms on the ends of both purses. I have had sobbing customers, one threw up ( the purse was a wedding gift for her daughter). I had the finisher take the bags apart and I personally restitched new ends. Sent them back. The finisher wouldn't redo without being prepaid. We wouldn't prepay since we wanted to see the finished corrected product first. Had to dig up someone from the past I had thought was dead - he is redoing them.<br />
3) sent a belt to the stitching service we usually use with Merino wool for the dark background. Somehow the stitching service switched background yarns on me - stitched with a wool that has not been produced for over 20 years - no coverage. I now have to restitch that belt to get it to the customer by her son's birthday.<br />
4) sent rabbit piece with silk background to another stitching service. it came in with the background dirty and streaked - looks like they spilled something on it and tried to wash it out.<br />
5) I sent a belt to the finisher who does the Eliza B stuff to be finished a size 41. They called - their leather guy had mistakenly cut it down to a 31. That is now being restitched.<br />
6) We took a bench cover to the man who used to be the most wonderful upholsterer. I sent Tasha with a check to pick it up. It was horrible. Turns out the finisher was actually so sick he was a week from dying. His sons decided to try their hands at finishing and failed. No way th get that money back for either the labor or the fabric.<br />
These are the things that I worry about late at night - things I am responsible for but have no actual control over. I am beginning to think I should accept only finishing that I can actually do myself if all else fails. This is why I sounded so frustrated in the last blog. Next blog will be all positive - I promise!Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-56270950846038687042012-06-28T06:41:00.000-07:002012-06-28T06:41:02.875-07:00As the Needle PointsI had a fond desire to sit on my back porch and read a book. Having been stopped in my tracks for a few days after minor surgery and reading 6 books, the desire lost a little of its luster. I did, however, realize that I have far too little time to spend just being lazy and enjoying the company of my husband. So, I have reworked my new fondest desire: I would love for someone to buy my shop. I would love to have more time to paint canvases for customers and to teach more classes. I would love to continue working in the shop a day or two a week, but not have to go home and paint canvases until after the 11 o'clock news every day. If any of you would like to buy a going business, I will entertain any serious offer. The business could be moved anywhere.<br />
Check out our upcoming classes on the link on the website. I will try to get the photos up today.<br />
Doodles is going downhill, but we are staving off the worst. I found that if I take her in for a cortisone shop monthly, the pain in her hip goes away and she will eat. I can tell the day it wears off. Grooming has fallen off her list of "to-do" things, so we try help her with that. She doesn't tolerate it for very long.<br />
As you may have noticed, we have a new member - Megan Doboze. ANG and EGA stitchers know her mother Deb to be one of the finest stitchers around. Megan is a full-time accountant elsewhere but is working here on Saturdays. She is not only an accomplished stitcher - she is learning to finish. Hooray!!! We may be able to get through Christmas without crisis of the proportion of last December.<br />
Tasha is in college at College of Charleston. She has been in and out this summer but will be here for the sale. Linda is back now on Fridays - that helps tremendously - and Randi is here on Wednesdays. I am praying that they all stay healthy - I depend upon them a lot. We'll all be here working through the sale.<br />
Thanks to all of you for your continued patronage and friendship. I really do love my customers and this business. I can't imagine doing anything else for a living. I have met the most wonderful people.<br />
Just in case: Mom has surgery scheduled on Tuesday, July 3rd. K obviously have to be there - a 92 year old can't go alone to the surgery center. I am not sure if anyone else can work that day. Call before coming just in case.<br />
Have a great summer, stay cool, and keep stitching!<br />
janeJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-32187368381230261052012-06-17T11:39:00.002-07:002012-06-17T11:39:41.749-07:00Father's DayI tried to take a picture today of one of my Father's needlepoints. Once he learned, he took off. It was to be expected. If there was ever a Renaissance man - it was Dad. He went to Med school and had to drop out during his internship because of incurable osteomyletis. He went to embalming school and took over as the 5th generation of Hardys in the funeral business. He was called from all over the country to reconstruct faces and became President of the National Funeral Directors Association. Because of that, he was called to work on the body of JFK and help conduct his funeral in D.C. As president of that organization, he helped found Hospice. He was an interior decorator . He collected Oriental art. He loved Classical music and Jazz. He gave me all the love music and the arts to make me the person I am today. I thought he was perfect. Of course, he wasn't. He was temperamental and moody. My mother is a saint to have lived with him. Without him, I would not be painting or singing.<br />
So - here's to my Dad and also to the very best father I have ever known - my present husband. Two wonderful men. Will try for photo of Dad's needlepoint another day.Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-27689581508341310802012-06-03T06:56:00.003-07:002012-06-03T06:56:43.310-07:00SundayOn the way to sing in the choir. Just had a few "non stitching" thoughts this morning. I had to sing yesterday for a man I sang in the choir with - a caring and giving person who died suddenly. Then we went out last night with our amazing group of friends to eat, listen to music at an outdoor concert and dance. Somehow, the night seemed more special because of the funeral. It takes something tragic to sometimes stop you in your tracks and get you to "smell the roses".<br />
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Now, for today's needlepoint - Julie Pischke's Conch House tote. Note the beaded palm leaves on the purple house side.Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-25977232533926035982012-05-29T06:50:00.001-07:002012-05-29T06:50:27.384-07:00a late Memorial Day thought<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Since the main topic is needlepoint, I have enclosed a picture of what has become my favorite stitch - to be stitched either vertically or horizontally. Looks great either way. This was stitched over blank #18 using single-ply of Vineyard silk, so you can see it is a stitch that covers well. Triple Cashmere.<br />
Now, thoughts on Memorial Day. Luckily, Memorial Day doesn't apply to my Veteran husband. I do, however, remember vividly my Uncle George - a Marine who fought on Iwo Jima and Saipan. He was awarded 2 purple hearts the day they gave him a dishonorable discharge. He was apparently fearless and saved many of his fellow soldiers time and again. However, the war made him a little crazy. Pre - post traumatic stress syndrome diagnoses. He came home. His exploits are the fodder of many many family stories. The one that I remember most clearly:<br />
My wonderful grandfather - a devout Baptist, active in his church and in his community - had chosen to have a fling with a slightly sleazy woman who lived close to one of our funeral homes. The woman and her equally sleazy boyfriend decided to blackmail my grandfather. It would have been ruinous in that era.<br />
The woman was awakened in the night with my uncle astride her and a bayonet at her throat. His words" You didn't hear me come in this time. The next time, mine will be the last face you see". The woman and her boyfriend left town.<br />
Uncle George was handsome, fit , brilliant and tortured. He committed suicide. To me, he is a victim of combat. Here's to all the other victims who fell in war - one way or another.Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-52246975174661422992012-05-26T13:38:00.001-07:002012-05-26T13:38:38.735-07:00Saturday Musings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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OMG! I just downloaded a picture! How amazing is that! I won't tell anyone how long that took, but I think I did it!<br />
This is what I accomplished during my forced "down time". I had been avoiding it because it is pretty big - a customer wanted to fill a wall and this was one of her favorite prints. See what a little surgery will do. The piece had 61 colors in it. I needed several days back to back and never could find them. Now I can share this way instead of just telling people "I promise - I really really did accomplish something this week." I am just glad that I don't have to stitch it!<br />
Am leaving the shop now to deliver a canvas. Eunice - a love of a 90-year-old woman - has had her car taken away by her children. All of us understand this obsession - no needlepoint canvases to do, no stitching. How else to spend the time? Something none of us stitchers can imagine without cringing. So - I deliver.<br />
Have a great weekend! I heard my friend Jerry (he has stage 4 lung cancer) say to his brother who had told him to have a wonderful day - "EVERYDAY IS A WONDERFUL DAY".Janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4063045759079147595.post-88261189474061887672012-05-24T06:53:00.000-07:002012-05-24T06:53:51.787-07:00getting startedAll my customers know how much I hate computers. However, there seems to be much gained by blogging. Having had to stop in my tracks for surgery, I learned several things:<br />
1) going to the bathroom at will is highly underrated<br />
2) never pay bills or balance tour checkbook within a week of anesthesia<br />
3) count on friends to feed you - not your husband<br />
Today is my first day back in the needlepoint shop - HOORAY! I miss the day-to-day contact with my customers. I did however finally catch up on my reading - 6 books in this last week. If you want a laugh, read Georgia Bottoms. Good summer light reading.<br />
I am actually going to start posting some of the canvases I do for customers. Noone but me and the particular customer ever sees those and they are usually the best ones!<br />
Will try not to bore either of us. More later!<br />
JaneJanehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01848630901254036913noreply@blogger.com0