Come and Play (Number 17)

A string of tiny flags, each their own mini quilt complete with color, texture, messy edges, studded with buttons from  Button Button (where you can buy a pound of buttons for $4 Canadian).

[click on the photo above to enlarge.]

My studio thanks me, and I, in turn, thank Dottie Angel for the inspiration.

Honestly, I may never go back to clean seams and perfect stitches.

Sit. Stay. (number 18)

Because I love a collage.

Because I had a number of coordinating swatches from Joe's past life in textiles, and because I just couldn't get rid of the pillow forms because I knew they could be so great.

Because when you come to our house, I want you to sit. And stay.

thirty-one! (and 28.)

Finally! I buckled down and did it.

And it only took two hours, but it was a matter of repainting the "project room" and creating, in its place, a studio, complete with computers and guest table and a dawg bed and room for the sewing machine.  Oh, and finding the time, the black fabric from my stash, and the patience to learn something new.

The something new? Mitered corners, baby.  They're both easier and harder than they look.

Big ups to the blogosphere for showing me the ropes, specifically Skip to My Lou.

the nautiloid and the cupcake

I woke this morning and, like all good Sunday mornings, strolled down my two sets of 14 stairs to the kitchen to start a pot of water to boil.  Looking to my left, I noticed that I had company.  In fact, two sweet beasts--a nautiloid and a cupcake--were snuggling on a chair in my adjoined living room.

After welcoming them, of course, I had to ask: "How'd you guys get here?" 

I was puzzled, since we're usually pretty careful about locking our doors at night, even if it was the first sunny weekend of the year.

"Well, you see," explained the nautiloid in a deep voice muffled by tentacles, "we came in through the back door yesterday, while you were cooking up your Oaxacan dinner party feast.  The screen door was ajar, and we managed to find our way inside."

"It was just in time, too," explained the cupcake, in a higher, more feminine voice.  "My frosting was beginning to melt."

Upon further investigation, I learned that there was a real epic of a story in the pair making it across my small, but very landscaped yard.

The nautiloid told me this story:  once upon a time (okay, yesterday) the nautiloid and cupcake were strolling through a certain Seattle backyard (mine) when they came upon a concrete staircase.  The nautiloid navigated the first step delicately, using his facial tentacles to gently ease himself down.

Once settled, he eased himself over to make a slide for cupcake, allowing her to lower herself without marring her frosting even one bit.  (Now isn't that a lovely show of teamwork?)

To get in the house, they used this same tactic, but in reverse (since it's a step up to get in the house), with the cupcake sidling up the curl of the nautiloid, and the nautiloid using his tentacles for balance.

They asked if they could stay awhile, and I agreed.

"We'd like to perch, if you please," asked the cupcake, sweetly, "somewhere we'll be able to see the action, but not somewhere we'll get stepped on.  The nautiloid is very delicate, you know, and my frosting slides very easily."

So up on the wine rack they went, the wine slots being precisely the size a nautiloid needs in which to cradle his shell.

And I do believe they'll be quite happy there, for the time being.

More stencils, more tshirt love

And then it was Maeve's 12th birthday.  Maeve, who entertains us frequently at backyard fires by taking drink orders in a fluffy bathrobe, a pink wig, and skinny glasses pushed to the end of her nose, all while making us call her "Grandma."

I love this gal.  And to commemorate my love for both Maeve and the gregarious, cranky Grandma, I made her a tank top festooned with a stencil culled from a recent photo of Grandma.

And, a birthday wouldn't be complete without the requisite M in a fabulous typeface.

And then, so as not to stop on a theme, the swallows.

I'm telling you, blog-o-sphere-o-mine, stencils are simple. They're the green circle of customized wearables. All you need is some chipboard, an Xacto knife, and a little hand strength.  I mean, Photoshop and a cupboard full of screenprint ink helps too, but you could make it lower tech than that if you wanted.

Also, once you have the M stencil cut, it's not hard to fashion a card from that same M.  If you're so inclined.