Hey there. How are you all doing? Alright? It was kind of a weird weekend. Marriage, covert ops. That kind of thing. Some of us who are under three years old wore little knickers with Union Jacks and tiny cartoon Irish Guards in their bearskins to celebrate the occasion. I got new tires, which was awesome. I'm stoked on that.
I went thrifting, looking for a pillow form (got one) and, under Strict New Rules spent a ten spot on some booty:
Fourteen skeins (over 1600 yards) of Manos Stria (a worsted weight, kettle-dyed cotton) in what looks like Spice, Rose and Avocado, for $5. I AM THE WINNER. Blanket? Lady-sized sweater? Thoughts and considerations cheerfully solicited.
Awesome vintage flat sheet. Grey and yellows, for real. I never, ever find great old linens. I think the crafty ladies buy them all up. But this one is killer and kind of makes up for any past lack. I have so many thoughts about this, but for sure it's going to be a quilt back. I think it's a queen size, so I should be able to do a backing and have some scraps left over for piecing something else.
Vera linen tea towels. So, so good.
I didn't get this at the thrift shop, but I did get it at the used dog shop about nine years ago:
This is Jake. Jake Jake. The Warg. ManBearPig. The Bear. Beary Bearmann. Group Captain "Beary" Bearmann the Airman, CBE, DSO and Two Bars, DFC. Yes, we had our dogs before we had our children...why do you ask? He will lie down on anything even remotely blanket-like left on the floor. If Mr. Terrible is kicking it on the couch he'll sometimes take off his button-up work shirt and set it on the floor right next to the couch as "Jake bait", and it totally works. In less than five minutes the Bear flumps down on top of the shirt and his magical scruff is there for the scratching.
So I came out into the living room the other day and he was inside my project box. For people who don't have a fabric problem, there is every ingredient for one quilt project in that plastic bin: fabric and batting squares that took hours to iron and cut, pieced and trimmed blocks, rows of fabric stips organized by color and size. I got out the camera and walked over, and he was all "...is she going to tell me to get out? I hope she doesn't. This box is great. There's like eight layers of batting in here." And, you know, I did make him get out. He's a lusciously soft dog, truly one of the world's great soft creatures, but that's partially because he has a double coat. Double coat = blowing coat = dog hair everywhere, in places you cannot possibly imagine it could go. Geez. Batting is sticky.
But I did tell him he's awesome before I kicked him out.
Because he is.