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Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys….

Second favorite picture. Rick’s number one pick.

Eric on the left and Evan on the right. They are about 15 months apart and while they had the normal spats of two brothers growing up they are close now.

I probably shouldn’t share this story but since neither one of them reads this blog what the heck…

A couple of years ago, when Evan was 18 he had to have open heart surgery. He had a condition called Cardiomyopathy where the heart muscle becomes abnormally thick and rigid. The surgeon had to go in and thin the walls of his heart so it could beat properly. When the surgeon came out of surgery to tell us how it went the one thing that really registered (after "it went well’) was that he was wearing cowboy boots.

After a week in the hospital he was released – the beauty of youth and their resilience and natural healing abilities. Only after a few days he started feeling bad. Worse than when he first got home. We went to the emergency room and they discovered he had built up a lot of fluid around his heart and had to go back into the hospital.

I called Eric and he drove over to the hospital. Evan had just had a procedure where they drained the fluid (harrowing – let me tell you) and he was heavily sedated. Evan had been pretty unresponsive all afternoon. Eric sat in a chair next to his bed and just started to cry. This big, strapping 20 year old, sick with worry. Evan’s eyes flew open and he looked over at his brother and told him it was okay, he was going to be just fine.

It was so touching. And of course since then Evan hasn’t let him forget it – ‘hey remember that time I was in the hospital…….you big baby."

Here’s something ironic – the entire time Evan was in the hospital he REFUSED to eat the food. He was down right surly about it. I had to tempt him with Jamba Juices and croissants from a local bakery. Guess where he works now? At the very same hospital, delivering food to patients.

Finished!

First of all if I ever say I am going to put a pleated ruffle on something just take me out back and shoot me. Or buy me a fancy sewing machine that has a ruffle foot.

The embroidery part of the pillow was the happy, mellow part of the project (except for the occasional knot on the front which I discovered only happened with the green flosses (Hmmmm…). The rest of the pillow should have been pretty easy but it frustrated me at several points.

First of all my finished embroidered square ended up being a weird size – 9.75". I was doing all kinds of mathematical gymnastics trying to figure out how wide the framing strips should be so I would end up with a 12.5" square. Then I realized I should just sew on some strips and then cut it down to a 12.5" square. Math has never been my strong suit.

Then the ruffling business. Oi. I originally planned to do a pleated ruffle then abandoned that idea as too time consuming since I would have to do each pleat manually. So I tried a standard ruffle (sewing two parallel lines and then pulling the threads to create the ruffle). Forget that. The length of fabric was LONG and my thread broke about a third of the way in.

So back to my original plan for pleated ruffles. By hand. And who ever invented corners? What a stupid idea. Do you have any idea how hard it is to sew a pleated ruffle around a corner?

Finally finished the front and got the ruffle attached but when I went to sew on the two back pieces I cut them about a 1/4" too short.

I’ve always thought it would be lucrative to go into the throw pillow making business because they are always SO expensive. Now I know why.

Now I need to go redecorate the guest room around this new color scheme.

My favorite picture

I was going through an old box (one of those ones that hasn’t been unpacked even though we’ve moved about three times since it was originally packed….) and found a picture that my Mother took.

The little guy on the left is my youngest son, Evan and the sweetie on the right is his cousin Maddi. Look at those curls! And how they have their plump little hands on each others shoulders.

They have been the best of friends their entire lives. They are both young adults now and still fast friends.

The curls, sadly, are gone – Evan’s hair is short and Maddi’s is long and luxurious and not a ringlet in sight.

Catching up

Anyone remember this? I think I started it back in January. I got a knot in the front (hate when that happens) and I tried to untangle it but couldn’t so I put it down for a while, hoping it would sort itself out.

It didn’t. So I picked it back up this week and and cut out the offending knot and pulled the stitching out and started up again.

I plan on finishing it this week. Ha! Famous last words. It’s going to be a pillow when it is done.

I would get things done a lot faster if Belle didn’t think the floss spools were her play toys.

Let’s see what else have I been doing? Oh – fighting battle with the aphids. Every morning I go out and spray them off the roses with a good blast from the garden hose and the following morning they are back. This morning, however, it looks like their numbers are diminishing so I might be winning. They did ruin a few of the early buds though. I have mutated looking roses trying to open up.

Stupid aphids. Look – I just sprayed them a half hour ago and they are coming back.

They haven’t been bothering the Iceberg rose bush though. Iceberg was my Mother’s favorite rose. I love how the first blooms on the bush always have the slightest pink tint.

It’s because of the cool temperatures when the bud is forming, I’ve been told. And since Iceberg tends to bloom until November around these parts the last roses of the season tend to be a wee bit pink too.

Last day of Remy sitting….

I can’t believe the week is almost over. We have had so much fun. He is just the sweetest soul I have ever come across. He makes me laugh every single time I look at him.

We spent his last full day together making daisy chains and letting him ride around the yard in big fat soap bubbles.

I am not looking forward to giving him back. Go back to Mexico! Shoo! Look! Over there? Is that a margarita??

Sigh. We never did get tattoos.

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