Snow Stag: New Plan Redux

Alternate Title: AAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUGH!!!!!!!!!!! … in which I change my game plan yet again.


The Snow Stag Table Runner Plan 2 is dust. Three cheers for Plan 3!

Yesterday I tried sewing a satin stitch around some random fused shapes on scrap fabric. The results were not inspiring.

Test scraps. Oy.


The pants shaped one took almost an hour to complete. One. Hour. Let’s digest that as we look at the size of the pants shaped scrap in relation to the real project, shall we?

Size comparison. Ha!

…at this point I curled up in fetal position and whimpered pitifully…

Cue Psycho shower scene music.

Clearly, I’m not using this method for the sample or the table runner. I have work to do before Christmas: I have to make some pin cushions for my favorite client. I have to design some fabric for a Spoonflower competition. I have to make Christmas presents for my parents. I want to make new stockings and possibly a tree skirt. I have to cook a birthday dinner, a Thanksgiving feast, a Christmas Eve supper, and a Christmas morning brunch. I want to bake cookies for family. I want to add to my stuffed bird collection. I want to clean the house at least twice before the holidays. I want to clear the garage. I have to continue designing fabric and wallpaper for my Spoonflower shop. I have to continue designing items for my CafePress shop. I want to do a thousand little things for the holidays that I haven’t fully explored. I know that I haven’t been blogging much lately, but I want that to change!

And during all of this, I want to remain sane.

I don’t think I can remain sane and spend thirty hours sewing these stags plus do all of the above. So. New plan!

I’m going to paint the white stags on the sample and the table runner using the same method I used when I painted the skull on my saucy apron.

Also: I can’t decide between Snow Stag and Winter Stag. Same project, changing names.

Here Comes the Sun

I hope.

Alternate Title: In which I curse, agonize over paint chips, and inhale powdery things one is not meant to inhale. Cough.

So I’m painting the bathroom. To accurately sum my thoughts on the whole process thus far, I’ve sketched a quick picture.


If it could go wrong, it did. And I don’t know why. I planned. I plotted. I diagrammed. I had lists, for crying out loud. Multiple. Lists. I had check lists. For naught, it appears.

Had I known what was in store for me, I would have had a completely different, more accurate check list. It would have gone something like this:

Remove decor from bathroom: Check.

Agonize over paint chips: Check.

Sand walls: Check.

Inhale wall debris: Check.

Agonize over paint chips: Check.

Remove old caulk: Check.

Scrape knuckles removing old caulk: Check.

Discover unpainted wood under caulk: Check.

Discover unpainted/unprimed drywall behind commode: Check.

Remove more old caulk: Check.

Scrape knuckles again removing old caulk: Check.

Curse: Check.

Shoo away curious bystanders: Check.

Find bandaids: Check.

Agonize over blue and gray paint chips: Check.

Dust: Check.

Inhale dust: Check.

Cough: Check.

Remember that you meant to add dust masks to your Home Depot shopping list: Check.

Vacuum: Check.

Remember Smurfy blue childhood bedroom: Check.

Decide that a Smurfy blue paint color would not be suitable for the bathroom: Check.

Remove Smurfy blue paint chips from consideration: Check.

Pick a medium gray-blue paint color: Check.

Realize that your step-stool won’t fit in tub to reach old caulk on top: Check.

Curse: Check.

Scrape old caulk from top of tub while balancing on the side: Check.

Scrape knuckles while removing old caulk: Check.

Curse: Check. Check.

Find more bandaids: Check.

Change mind over paint chips: Check.

Shoo away curious bystanders: Check.

Fill holes in wall: Check.

Sand joint compound: Check.

Inhale dried particulate joint compound newly sanded from wall: Check.

Cough: Check.

Remember that you forgot to buy dust masks again: Check.

Remember fondly the inhaler that isn’t sold over the counter any more: Check.

Scrape knuckles on sanding block: Check.

Look in vain for bandaids: Check.

Curse: Check. Check. Checkity. CHECK. CHEEEEEEECK!!!!1!!!!

Scare away bystanders: Check.

Watch Decoded marathon: Check.

Decide that there are a lot of strange theories about the Statue if Liberty: Check.

Pick a light gray-blue paint color: Check.

Buy paint: Check.

Caulk around tub and baseboards: Check.

Open paint can: Check.

Discover that paint in can doesn’t match paint chip: Check.

Decide that paint will match paint chip when dry: Check.

Cut in paint: Check.

Discover that paint edger failed about halfway through cutting in and that there is paint on the ceiling: Check.

Discover that dry paint doesn’t match paint chip: Check.

Curse: Check.

Curse Home Depot: Check.

Curse Home Depot receipt that explicitly states that they don’t accept returns on paint for any reason: Check.

Curse cute, seemingly helpful guy behind paint department counter at Home Depot: Check.

Discover the paint color, when dry, is almost exactly the Smurfy blue color you didn’t want: Check.

Decide to finish painting Wednesday after a trip to Wal-Mart for more supplies: Check.

Decide to debate repainting to a new non-Smurfy blue later after decor is reinstalled and bathroom has been lived in for a month: Check.

Hope that the color won’t appear so Smurfy after the decor is installed: Check.

Blog: Check.


Vacation, Interrupted

Alternate Title: In which Bulwer-Lytton smiles.

It was a dark and stormy night, which is not a promising beginning to the tale I am about to inflict upon you; thunder boomed, clouds rolled, rail fell, lightning flashed – it is this lightning, I think, that is the villain of this story, having most egregiously zapped my computer (third hand, slow, temperamental, but wondrously full of fabric designs unseen, most notably my Snowman collection for Winter 13/14) into a complete and utter death from which it could not be resurrected, not even in the mode that is safe.


Last week was supposed to be a vacation: My mother and I planned to go to our friend Abigail’s cabin in North Carolina for a few days. (Isn’t Abigail wonderful?) Two days before we were scheduled to leave, my computer died. Like I wrote above (assuming you waded through the purple prose), an electrical surge zapped it.

Well, I work from home on my computer; there was little choice but to replace it immediately. So I ordered a new one that night after the storm. Even though the computer will be paid off in installments, there is no way I could do a vacation and a computer, not in the same year. This isn’t 2005, you know.

The next morning, we discovered another reason for canceling the mini-vacation – the rain caused a mud slide in the back yard. Oy. The less said of that, the better.

This week will be better: fabric will be designed; bed scarf will be quilted; bathroom will be painted; pictures will be taken; and posts will be published. All this is, of course, assuming I can stop accidentally hitting the stinkin’ caps lock on this new keyboard. ARGHHHHH!!!11!!!1!!!