Cozy and The Creeping Crud

It's offical.  The score is Cozy - 0, Creeping Crud - 973.  It has won.  I have lost. 

I think I might be dying.   My DH says he's pretty sure the death wish thing is just wishful thinking on my part.  He said that as a rule, when you feel so sucktacular that you'd enjoy dying, you usually don't.

He has been doing the cleaning and tending the dishes to keep my nasty crud-laden germs out of the kitchen and off the food prep areas.  And off the plates.  He's a kind and wonderful man. With a strong sense of self preservation.

Meanwhile, I am almost too stupid and dopey to function.  I am prone to dropping into a deep sleep without a moment's warning.  I fell asleep while being tortured during a PT session for my torn hammy.  The therapist wondered if I'd blacked out, but I don't think so.  I think it was just a little nap.

I am not driving, needless to say.

Every now and then I cough until something that's supposed to stay inside flops out.  My liver is all covered with glitter and there are little green plastic 'pine needles' adhering to my appendix.   The perils of coughing up internal organs at holiday time. 

I've been running a low grade temp for the past week, but I'm afraid to go to the doctor.  There are two ailments circulating in Cozyville at this time.  There's the one I have.  And the other one.  The other involves unsavory bodily functions emitting explosively from several  orifices (orifi?)  at the same time.  I do not have that.  I do not wish to.  So me and the Creeping Crud stay home and cough.  Although to vary a bit, sometimes, we play Running Nose.  It runs.  I sit on the sofa and watch it go.  Have at, nose.  If you think I'm going to chase you, you're stupider than you look.

I took zillions of photos through the month of  December - the visit precipitating the Historic Clearing of The Table, and more.  Several feasts, lots of fun and family.  I plan to upload those real soon.  Right now I'm afraid I'll cough my stomach lining out onto the keyboard and ruin the computer.

There are no pictures with this report.  Would you like to see my liver flopping in the Christmas card glitter? Watch the Leaning Tower of Snotty Kleenex grow ever taller?  Well, tough.

Alert the FBI - My Dining Room Has Been Kidnapped

Oh my goodness!  I feel like the Mad Hatter and the White Rabbit combined into one.  I must find my dining room table.  I must!  Family is coming.  Here.  To my house.  For A Meal.

My table!!!  Where is it? 

And more to the point - what the heck does it LOOK like?  I mean, how am I to know if I find it?  It's...you know, kind of table shaped.  About table height.  It's supposed to be flat on top.  That much I remember for sure.  Oh - and it's wooden.  Yes, definitely made of wood.  That should help id it.  If, in fact, it is ever seen anywhere.

My (soon to be late if he keeps up with comments like this) husband says, "Babe.  Under stuff."

I think he really meant well.  But it's a pretty sweeping statement.  After all, his desk is 'under stuff'.  The kitchen counter is 'under stuff.'  The sofa is 'under stuff'. (Wow - this reminds me - I need to dust the stove.)

The potty is not under stuff, but we ain't eatin' there. 

But the table.  Must locate.

This is what it looks like.  It's an old picture, but it would do if I had to put photos on milk cartons.  You know, basic table.  Brown.  Wood.  Flat on top.  Usually seen hanging out with crafts projects.  If you see it, please call me. 

 

Those Dam Trolls...

Look what I found hidden in the closet!  Trolls! Look at that profile - and that little tummy! How cute is that?!?

The bunny suit - oh my goodness. The clown suit - that mask!

What mere words can I add to these photos? Oh - just this: Dam is their brand name. It's
stamped on their little posteriors.

Z Turns One

Meet Z.  He's one year old, and as his shirt says, he must rock.  He can dance, he can play the beat box, he  has talent - and he has some lovely teeth.

Hummm...kind of chewy.  Interesting texture. 

I'm THIS many!

...or...

We're # 1!

...or...

Waiter!  Bring that candle back, please!

 

  

 

Cozy Feels Random (So what else is new?)

Today my 7 going on 43 year old granddaughter, explained to me that one of her dolls had just sold her dollhouse to another of the dolls.  It was a great price for the buyer doll.  She didn't even have to use her savings. Which was good, because there was a lot of stuff she needed to fix up in her new place.  So today was moving day for New Owner Doll.  She got all her stuff moved in, and it just wore her out.  Moving can be pretty stressful, but beyond that, all the dogs in the neighborhood had barked all night and so New Owner Doll had not slept well at all.  When Miss Girl said it was okay if I took a peek into New Owner Doll's  bedroom, I saw that she was zonked out with the blanket over her head. 

In case you're wondering what Former Owner Doll is doing now, she's decided to travel.  She took some of the proceeds of selling her house and bought Barbie's Palomino and was last seen riding off into the sunset.   (I think Barbie and Ken have been downsizing.  Ken might have lost his job in marketing and they may be needing to cut back.  Selling a few of the horses would help - the upkeep, feed, vet bills, stabling and so on - it adds up.)

Bull's Eye!

Who says quilts gotta be made just one way?  Not moi, for sure.

(And for those of you who didn't know I quilted, well - voila.  Evidence.  You decide if it's for or against!)

Having made a decision to go through the endless boxes of scrappity bits and see what could be done to turn some of them into something fun, I have arrived at this cute little fellow.  The Bull's Eye Quilt. 

Yes, it's an actual printed pattern, found in the marvelous book, Quilts from Aunt Amy.  It's a take off on a very early 20th century pattern in which the circles were actually pieced and seamed together.  Augh!  Work!  This one is all done layer on layer, and with the raw edges left raw.  As the quilt is put into use, the edges will begin to fray and fuzz up.  Laundering will bring out even more of the fuzz factor, but even simple use will start the process.  In a short time, a brand new quilt looks just like a prized quilt from gramma's attic.  (Just cleaner, and minus the dried up bug detritus and wierd yellowish age stains.)

I haven't quilted this fellow yet - it's just a 'quilt top' at this stage of its career. 

These blocks are so much fun to make.  You begin with a fabric square, onto which you stitch 3 circles of various sizes.  Then the blocks are cut and reassembled.  As you go through these steps, you'll be amazed to see how even the "What was I thinking" fabrics can blossom beautifully. 

Which, I'm sure, is a lovely moral lesson for all of us.  I'm quite pooped from writing this, so I'll let you ponder the ramifications.  Go on.  It'll be good for you.

The Hunger of Dryers

It happened.

And then, it happened again.

My dryer ate half a pair of brand new dryer balls.  They were pink and purple and made laundry fun. 

 And then, a few loads later, there was one forlorn little dryer ball bouncing around in there all by its lonesome.

Where did the other one go?  No one knows. 

We looked in reasonable places and unreasonable ones.  No second dryer ball.  Nothing.  Not even little shreddie pink and purple bits.

The next set of dryer balls was bland and boring.  The dryer didn't care.  It ate one of those, too.

I think I heard it belch.