Find it, Frame it

So, I misplaced my life. Actually, it’s just our family photos have been poorly cataloged and at times, swallowed whole by the former business’ photos.

It all began with a search for Babydoll’s communion. After breath-holding gasps and three external backup drives, I located a folder titled, Babydoll’s Communion. When I opened it, the folder was empty. Good Lord! I must have been distracted mid-task. Could it be? All I have is one photo from my camera.

Girlfriend was tired.  Now, Girlfriend is angry.

At her communion to years ago, we opted not to have professional photography despite the cheesy commmercial photographer who had set up at the end of the school hall. Making matters worse, over the last four years, I failed as a hover mother and lack of these communion photos prove it.

In true sibling annoyance, this year Cutiepie happily found herself in the queue for the commercial cheesy photographer who had smartly relocated to the center of the school hall. Knowing there’d be no order placed, Cutiepie was content to queue and pose with her pals, while older sister Babydoll seethed with jealousy and the mistaken belief that we might relent and order professional photos for Cutiepie.

Like at Babydoll’s communion, we took our own photos and unlike Babydoll’s photos, I carefully cataloged Cutiepie’s photos. Our photos for Cutiepie were lovely and we eventually discovered the lost communion photos for Babydoll. THANK GOODNESS.


Yesterday, the professional photos arrived in a plastic bag for review and purchase. At first it would appear they gave us someone else’s photos. The child has red hair. On closer look, it is Cutiepie captured in cheesy commmercial style, complete with an incredulous overbite. Each of us took turns mocking the photo and Cutiepie was justified as she confirmed, “Yeah, we won’t be BUYING these. Doesn’t even look like me. With ginger hair. Ugh!” I’m guessing Babydoll was gracefully suppressing her delight, when she aired her shock at the flawed photo.
Needless to say, tonight we are setting up print shop in the kitchen. Each girl will have beautiful photos to fill her frames.

And, if that’s not enough and they still want professional photos, I can always tint the hair colour to red.

Sewing with Judy

The TV in the dining room has mysteriously stopped receiving signal.

Recent weeks have been busy and difficult resulting in weekends without my sewing buddies. No TV and no friends, that sucks.

When sewing buddies aren't around, I indulge in the drone of nonsense TV in the background. I like nothing better than the original founding matron of reality TV of America. Who doesn't laugh while Judge Judy tells some lame dude to get a life and stop mooching off the girlfriend resembling his mother?

First, I had to convince DH that he could fix the television reception. The cables run up the wall, on the attic floor and connect with the working television in the master bedroom. Once we realised it was not the master TV, he confirmed it was definitely the cable connection in the attic. Uh oh.

Surely it has nothing to do with the 53 or 92 totes of fabric up there?

I held my breath as DH entered the attic and hearing him breathe a disappointing sigh—first of many to come--I knew this disconnect was my fault. Or rather, it was my fabric stash schlepped, stirred and (re) stored with each project. The plight to my sewing enjoyment was, itself, my sewing.

Hearing more loud grunts drifting down from the attic, I spied the now-lit indicator light on the cable box. To my relief, Judge Judy was booming from the tube before I could get my sewing machine in place.

It was my turn to sigh aloud. With a cup of steaming tea in one hand and a tasty serving of homemade tiramisu in the other, I offered my thanks to DH and made it back to my sewing table before Judge Judy could announce her decision.

The narrator was introducing the next case as DH returned his now empty dishes to the kitchen. A chatty Mary was defending herself against the claims of a former friend before Judge Judy. Working on a charity quilt together, Barbara had loaned a sewing machine to her friend only to never see it again. The quilt had been finished, charity had been served, and now, one quilter was suing another.

DH looked to me. I looked to Judge Judy. We were both in disbelief. Apparently, I'm not the only one who needs Judge Judy to get her sewing groove on.

Pictured below are two new and one old block for my email lessons. Getting caught up with the Sewing Shed.