Posie Gets Cozy

Rare Sunbreak in the Stacks, and a Baby Clover

The weather in the Northwest is blustery and cold. Snow routes and ice scrapers are part of the morning. Andy took the bus today after almost getting stuck and then having to push someone up the hill yesterday morning, getting covered head to toe in slush, and all in his snazzy clothes, too! Portland is hilly, so one part of town can be perfectly fine, and just a couple miles away it's a much different story.

I didn't notice the snow and ice on the lawn, really, because I was in the studio all day and it's always pretty summery in there, it's true. This whole studio needs a good reorganizing. This is the only corner that looks neat and tidy. I definitely don't wash all my fabric before using it, by the way. It totally depends on what I'm making; if I'm not going to wash the finished thing, I don't prewash my fabric. I do put it in a giant laundry basket if I'm taking it out to the television to refold it all while watching ice skating competitions. And I actually came to the conclusion that I don't have too much fabric, I have too much fabric I don't take care of properly, as in I throw it back toward the shelves from across the room and then later, when I'm closer to the shelf, stuff it all frantically in there like a wild-eyed hamster hard at work, which, though physics is not my thing, doesn't seem like the most efficient use of space. (That's physics, right? I don't even know.) Anywy, it's something that doesn't come naturally, whatever it is. I have to take it all out and refold it regularly, lest it all come cascading off the shelf. A calico waterfall.

I've got a to-do list for spring that's filled with birds and flowers: new Friendly Birds, new Clothespin Doll Kits (these will be Flower Girls), new Cagelets. New postcards, new crochet patterns. Possibly new Bookbags (you can see some of the vintage fabrics there). Lots of things. My fingers are twitching. I'm almost there, but not quite. Not yet. Just thinking out loud here. I can't help it. I confess that I have been absolutely bested by my in-box and my P.O. box the past couple of weeks. I have a lot of catching up to do — the timing on everything has been kind of feast or famine around here. Slow and easy for a while, then everything happening at once. That's always the way, yeah? But thank you again to everyone who continues to write with such nice comments and emails about the article I wrote for the February/March issue of Hallmark magazine. It was a difficult story for me to write, and I'm completely overwhelmed by your kindness, I really am. Thank you.

I think I'll make some Malt-o-Meal for breakfast, to counteract the blustery weather. Don't you love that stuff, especially when it's lumpy? A little bit lumpy.

My mom sent me this photo yesterday, taken by her the first time she met Clover the first week we got her. Aaaggghhh! Oh honeygirl. I can't stop looking at this. Clover Meadowsweet two days in a row, but this is a great one. I didn't think you'd mind.

Oh, I gotta go kiss her now, right on that droopy, fuzzy-wuzzy wittle wip.

Clover Basket

I refolded all the fabric in my stash over the weekend. As I was taking this picture, I noticed a little something over there.

Someone was looking at me.

Nothing like an old shoe to put your chin on, I guess, especially if it's attached to someone you adore's foot.

O how I love this little thing. Kiss kiss kiss.

Where She Gets Her Chair Back. Ish.

If you really want to get a feel for it, you could print out these two pictures and the one from yesterday, make 50 copies of each, bind them together into a flip book, and then go through it about fourteen more times. * I get up, she gets on, I tip her out (this one doesn't like to be picked up), I get on; repeat from * 699 times more — 700 sts.

Our Pretty Little Clover Meadow

Twenty-four weeks old today. It can't be.

A most excellent girl we have here.

Just learned how to go down the stairs by herself.

Who you callin little. I'm huge!

Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman

Yes, our little teen queen is growing up so fast. Andy has been in Chicago since Friday so Miss Clover Honeydew Meadow Paulson and I have weathered the storm together, though it was never that bad here compared to what we're seeing on television in Washington and along the Oregon coast. I hate wind, though, and it seemed it would never stop. It finally has tapered off. Yesterday all roads to the coast were closed and there is some serious flooding. We lost a tall but very skinny tree that is now leaning precariously across our driveway. I think our bamboo blinds might be wrecked, too, because I forgot to take them down.

Clover and I got into bed routinely before 7 p.m. Way before 7 p.m. It was WONDERFUL. I was absolutely exhausted. I finally finished all of the kits and got those out. When I got home from the P.O. each day I would feel like the stress of the whole year was finally catching up with me. I was desperate for some rest. My limbs felt like ingots. Once tucked in, they were too heavy to move.

Clover was so good, watching Christmas movies with me and chewing her bone with great intensity, and the amazing thing was that I felt like she kept behaving better as the weekend went on. On Friday she absolutely would not do anything I wanted her to do, preferring to chew on me, or freak out whenever a cat came near, or pee in the guest room three minutes after coming in from outside. But by last night you would've thought she was reading my mind. She seemed happy to do everything I needed her to do. Perhaps this is just coincidence, but it made me feel so good, and I really needed that. Sometimes with the puppers it feels like one step forward and two steps back. But sometimes, although it's more work, it's almost easier when only one person is dealing with the dog all day long, every day, do you know what I mean? When Andy and I are both home together it's half the work but somehow more chaotic. Even with Audrey, some days it would get to be 10 p.m. on a really hectic day and suddenly one of us would be like, "Did you feed her?" "No, I thought you were gonna feed her." "No, I didn't feed her. I thought you fed her." "Whoops, we forgot to feed our dog." And Auds would just be sitting there patiently, looking at us like, "Would you people get it together please."

But a few nights ago, my little puppy had a bad dream — snoozing on the bed, she twitched and yelped in her sleep, as she often does — but this time she yelped so loud she woke herself up. She had such a look of worry on her face in that moment I said, "Oh! Baby!" and she got right up and came over and wedged herself right into my side, under my arm, and snuggled as close to me as she could get, and stayed there for hours. I am not used to our dogs doing that.

But this weekend it was Snuggle Central around here, especially last night, and I think we were both loving it. It felt so good to slow down, and then just to stop. I have been thinking about Audrey so much this week, and that day last year we all spent decorating the house for Christmas. When I think of Audrey, I always think of that day last year, and that last picture of her waiting for Andy. It was one of the best days I've ever had. We haven't put up a single Christmas decoration yet. I think I am worried that I will be so sad when we do, so I've been putting it off without really realizing it. Andy gets home in a few hours so I think we will decorate tomorrow.

With that I'll leave you with this poignant scene from one of my favorite Christmas movies. What totally makes it is him saying, "Did you HEAR that?" Oh man. Some of the most brilliant quotes ever are here.

Rainy-Days Dog

It's been raining for four days, maybe more, I forget. My memory is only a moment or two long. Unless it's for something I'm not supposed to do that I like to do, like chew the edge of the back door when I'm outside. I always remember to do that.

No snow, just lots and lots of rain. Lots and lots of rain. I hate going outside now.

I've played with every one of my dozens of toys a bobillion times.

I wish puppies could crochet. Then I'd be psyched to stay in, like mommy.

***

I can't believe how much she's grown in the past two months. The couch and blanket have stayed the same.

Have I told you lately . . .

. . . that I love you? Probably not. Because the only words that have come out of my mouth for the last six months are "me," "my," "this sucks," "I can't do this," "what's on TV," "can you make me something to eat," "can you let the dog out," "I'm so tired," and "me." But I tell you, that's all about to change. Family, both mine and Andy's, is coming in from out of town next week for Thanksgiving, and I am ridiculously excited, and grateful for so many, many things.

THANK YOU for the Santa Lucia doll-kit orders this week! Egads, people! I knew you were cool, but wow. When I placed the orders for doll parts, I had talked myself into being completely at peace with the possibility that I would wind up with several hundred clothespins in my basement after December 13. But amazingly, I'm about four orders away from ordering more clothespins. And THEN I'll be winding up with several hundred clothespins in my basement, but it's okay, that sort of regret is an emotion I'm very familiar with and willing to risk, because I am determined to meet the clothespin-dollmaking public's enthusiastic demand for clothespin-dollmaking kits!!! Girl Posie will not let you down!!!

So I'll keep taking orders through Friday noon PST. But after that I will be filling 1/8-ounce paint pots faster than an elf jonesin' for a big promotion, 'cause I really want to get these out and in your hands in plenty of time for the 13th. Seriously, thank you for being excited about these. It makes me really happy to be able to share them.

Don't show this picture to Cesar Milan:

Or our doggy tutor Steve. He said he was not really down with dogs being in the bed. Turns out Andy and I should probably own one of those docile, homely breeds instead of a bossy corgi who's this pretty, 'cause I mean: You can see the future here, right? I mean, I can see the future here, and even I cannot resist. Andy says, "Oh, but she's so cute! Let her stay!" And I say, "Okay, but don't tell Steve."

Oh Steve, you have your work cut out for you. I'm just sayin.

Dispatch from the Poorly Bed

Clover Honey Meadow Pinkytoes Blushbelly Paulson rests on a tuffet of tossed-off blankets, the remains of Andy's illin' Saturday night.

Thank you for all your kind words. Thank you especially to everyone who took care of Andy, and sat with me at the hospital, and took care of Clover, and brought us chips and magazines and salad and quiche and cantalope and cookies and hot chocolate and rootbeer and love. Thank you to the girls at OHSU who got us into the VIP suite on 14A, overlooking the beautiful twinkling city and from where we watched the prettiest view of Mt. Hood at sunset I've ever seen.

I think Sunday evening (after surgery) was the most relaxing night of the entire last six months, quite frankly. I slept safely wrapped up in heated blankets on a little cot next to a very happy Andy, whose vital signs were being closely monitored and whose every need was being met by the most wonderful medical professionals in the world. We're so grateful to them all. Thank you.

All's well now. You'd think we were jonesin for drama around here or something, no? The way we carry on, I tell ya. I'm tired. I'm rounding home on lots of work and looking forward to some time off, some R&R, some family coming in a few weeks, some crafting. I have pretty things to show you, and plans for the holidays I want to share.

Last night it occurred to me that last year I had wanted to put together kits to make your own Santa Lucia dolls with four attendants, so I'm going to try to do that now. If you would be interested in those, leave me a comment and let me know so I can ballpark how many to prepare. They'll come with supplies and directions. I'll probably work on the kits over the weekend and put them on sale next week, so there will be time for you to get the girls ready for December 13th.

Oh, to be a little corgi puppy!

Just for one day, maybe.

Today, in fact, would be nice.

Laying around, and then a manicure.

Somebody needs a trim.

Recovered the Fumble, with Injuries

Okay, I'm not completely sure how it is that the two full-grown adult caretakers of this adorable, innocent little puppers keep landing on the ground while trying to take care of her, but it went something like this:

We had been out for a quick walk on a lovely Sunday afternoon and had just returned home. Across the street, several people were helping a neighbor move, two other people were packing another car, and our other neighbor was sitting on his porch reading. Andy was holding Clover, standing inside the screen door and trying to unlock the front door. I was looking at the porch chair, blathering on about how I did not understand why every time I looked at that chair it was always crooked, on an angle blocking the door, etc., etc., who was moving it, etc.

Suddenly, right behind me, I hear a commotion and turn and see six-foot-three Andy fumbling Clover, a quivering coil of muscle and wiggle, who has apparently spooked and is suddenly trying to climb on top of his head and neck while he is unlocking the door. Grabbing at her wildly, he sinks down, apparently in an attempt to get closer to the ground but loses balance and is about to fall over, headfirst, into the door. I stretch and reach for Clover, who is headed south over Andy's back, scrambling for dear life. I manage to get her just fine, but lose my balance while the screen door is closing on me and fall on top of Andy who, at the moment of my size-16 impact, screams,

     "OowwwwwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeAGHHHHHH!!!"

and falls to the ground as his knee goes east. I place Clover on the aforementioned chair and with a total lack of coordination but a lot of speed (think: panicking manatee) clamber off of Andy in complete horror as I see him clutching his knee and grimacing in pain.

I cannot express how loud all of this was, and how long it all seemed to take, between the chair skidding and the door banging and the yelling in agony. I can only imagine what all nine completely random people within thirty feet of this spectacle — normally, no one is ever out there but squirrels, of course, until we decide to fall down — were thinking as two large adults and a small puppy went rolling around shouting on the front porch all while simply trying to get into the house. We did not turn around to look as somehow we managed to unlock the front door and then fall through it into the living room. Andy was sort of laughing and crying in pain at the same time. After asking him hysterically fourteen times if he was okay (he said yes, ish), I put the puppers down (she was just fine) and ran upstairs and threw water on my face, feeling awful, trying not to cry, trying not to laugh, trying to remember which knee he had surgery on a few years ago. Somehow Andy and Clover came upstairs and we all laid on the bedroom floor, nervously laughing so hard tears rolled down my cheeks and I got a stomach ache. Andy was like, "Dude, I don't even know what happened!" and I was like, "Dude I'm so sorry! I didn't even know what was happening!" It was all so absurd. Just picturing it would send either of us into a fit of doubled-over laughter for the rest of the night and into this morning; just writing it and thinking about it again now makes the giggles bubble up again. I keep imagining our neighbor Scott across the street, looking up from his book, surely thinking, "What the hell are those two up to now?" I really regret that no one was filming this because, as a consummate fan of America's Funniest Home Videos, I feel quite sure that this one would've won us the ten grand, which would've helped us pay for the knee surgery we both worry is fairly imminent, as, even this morning, the knee is messed up.

So, to the doctor. Last time it was the other knee, hurt while running for the bus.

Phooey. I feel really bad. I recovered the fumble but totally sacked my quarterback. He was wearing his Bears jersey, too (Sunday uniform).

Poor knee. Poor Andy. I think that's called "taking one for the team." I am so sorry, honey.