Setting:  My house which is covered in pieces of fabric, a half sewn pillow is on the couch by an almost finished skirt, clothing that I have mended for a friend is piled up in a chair, and I have a halfway recovered chair sitting in the middle of the living room.  My kitchen chairs are covered in Thomas the Tank Engine fabric for a custom order, and my coffee table is hidden under paper pattern pieces.  In other words, if a bomb went off in JoAnn's Fabric, it would look like my house.

Characters:  Me, who although clean, is still in pjs.  I'm wearing purple cropped pj pants with fuschia zebra striped athletic socks topped off with a cardigan sweater with a hole in the sleeve.  Not one bit of make up is on my face and my hair is piled on top of my head.  I'm covered in pieces of fabric and thread because I have been upstairs sewing.  All I need are some dead cats stuffed in corners to qualify for "crazy woman on Hoarders".

Bailey...who will go down in history as the worst guard dog EVER.

Phoebe...who only sort of participated because she was in the house.  Somewhere.

A Roanoke County Police Officer. 

Plot:  I'm upstairs sewing a blouse together (which looks fabulous by the way) completely oblivious to the world around me.  I hear a knock on the door and proceed to ignore it.  I always ignore people who knock on my door.  The few times I have broken this rule I've answered the door to find religious zealots, sketchy people selling cleaners, and kids selling whatever.  So I don't answer the door.  It's just too much trouble.  Plus, people who know me come to the back door.  The knocking becomes louder and more insistent.  I still don't answer.  Maybe they will go away.  I own a Bible, so shoo!  It gets quiet so I go back to sewing the neckline on my blouse.  Next thing I know my visitor is putting all of their force into ramming my door knocker against the door.  Fine.  I'll answer it. 

I open the door and there stands a police officer.  Oops.

"We got a 9-1-1 distress call from this address.  The dispatcher tried to call back but there was no answer."

"Huh?  9-1-1?  I didn't call 9-1-1."  I refuse to answer the door more than a crack because I am in pjs.  It doesn't occur to me that this would appear suspicious...I'm just trying to cover up my slovenlyness (no, that isn't a word...but it fits so I am using it).

"We got a call from this address."

"It wasn't from me!"  I begin to wonder where Bailey is at this point.  She is usually trying to eat anyone at the front door.  She is nowhere to be found now.  I panic slightly...where is she?  Did she call 9-1-1?  Is she in distress???  "Look, here is my phone.  It is actually dead because I've forgotten to charge it for three days.  Do you see my dog anywhere?  Do you want to come in?"

"Um, ok."  I'm sure he is slightly afraid of me at this point.  "Um, well maybe it wasn't you.  It may have been a cell phone and your address was just pinpointed as the closest."

"Right.  That makes sense.  Because it wasn't me and there are no dead bodies here!  Ha ha!" 

Luckily at this point the office just backs away slowly, saying he's glad I'm ok, and goes to sit in his car for a while.  I guess cops don't get poor attempts at humor....

Moral of the story:  Keep your house clean and be dressed just in case the police show up looking for dead bodies.  And?  Answer your door if it is the police.  I'm sure I was about 60 seconds from being broken into looking for the imaginary person in distress.  And get my dog some hearing aides....

I tutor kiddos part time after school (because I don't quite get enough of them during the day...).  Not really.  I do get enough of them during the day.  But love my after school kids because when you work with them one on one you have the opportunity to form a great relationship.  I have tutored one little girl (who is now a young lady) throughout her high school career.  I've gone to her house every Thursday for the past four school years.  I've seen pictures of every prom dress, every homecoming dress, heard about boyfriends, and I've watched her grow up.  Now with graduation on the horizon and four college acceptances, she doesn't need tutoring anymore and my last Thursday with her is this week. 

I tried to come up with a suitable graduation gift for her and couldn't think of anything.  When stuck for a gift idea, I rack my brain for days until I've run out of time and I end up just overspending on a bunch of crap from Target.  So those of you that have gotten a bunch of random gifts from Target shoved into a bag, it's because I really wanted to do something nice and unique but got stuck.  It's the thought that counts, right???

So I decided to make something.  I bought this book just after Christmas and have almost worn the pages out looking through it.  Now I finally had a reason to make a bird!

Why a bird you ask?  What on earth is a high school student going to do with a stuffed bird???  One of the projects is a bird in a nest.  And I thought of my student as a bird getting ready to leave the nest.  Since I don't have the money for a really nice gift and instead of buying random unconnected items at Target, I make things out of random unconnected items in my home.  Of course maybe one of the reasons I never have the money is because I keep buying supplies for projects I don't always get to, hence having all of the supplies to make a bird. 

The bird was relatively easy, but it is difficult working with pieces so small (especially with my fat fingers).  The bird from the book sits in a wire nest covered in thread.  But I didn't have any wire thick enough so I made a paste and used the last of my kitchen twine to form a nest around a measuring cup.  That was a small mess.  I think I had homemade paste up to my elbows trying to make a 1-cup size nest!  Another deviation from the project in the book was that I used beads for the eyes instead of embroidery.  The idea of trying to make something even remotely eye shaped using a needle and thread on that tiny head made me cringe.  So I took the easy way out and used beads. 




I hope she appreciates it 20 years from now (because right now I'm just expecting her to look at with a quizzical look on her face).  Anyway, I love my bird!