getting ready for the 21st

It’s not that horrible, at least that’s what I tell myself. I tell myself a lot of things when I’m sewing, things like “I’m never doing another craft show again.” (Lie.) Things like “This is so not worth the effort.” (Lie.) and “Next year I’m just going to buy gifts for everyone and not worry about any of this.” (Lie.) and a perennial favorite “Just one more.” (Lie.)

I’m starting to not believe anything I say when there’s a sewing needle and fabric involved.

It’s still winter and I live  in a valley. I should know by now that the day light will always be a little shorter for us, I just wish it didn’t feel like I live in a cave all the time, even when I’m outside.

I’m into spinning again full swing. Unbleached tussah silk. Laceweight. Yum. Georgia has a new hobby as well, she likes to run around the room catching the little smokey wafts of silk that float in the air when I’m pre-drafting, and then having me extract the drool slimed silk from her gaping maw.

We discovered earlier this month that Georgia was anemic, since starting her on some high calorie puppy food and iron supplements she’s become downright hyper, or more accurately, she’s acting like a healthy young dog. It’s a nice change.

I worry a little when she engages Greta in play, because Great Dane play usually means running around, tackling, stealing prized items, more running and more tackling. Greta turns 11 years old in the spring, and even though she’s healthy– I still worry that Georgia’s playing will be too much for her, but so long as she doesn’t mind and no one gets hurt I stay out of it.

Josey’s dog, Lucy, is a digger. She’s also smallish (well, at least compared to my Great Danes of course. Sunnie the lab can legitimately be called my husband’s little girly dog compared to my dogs right?) I’m currently obsessed with teaching her to use her digging powers for good and not evil. More specifically, I want her to empty the clean clothes from the dryer into a laundry basket strategically placed at the opening of the dryer.

The routine is something like this, clean Lucy’s paws and check her nails. Open dryer door, put basket in front of dryer, put dog in basket, tell her to wait. Take hard dog biscuit and put under clothes. Tell dog “Laundry time!” when dog digs (in search of sub-par dog biscuit) click and treat (with a bit of tripe or liver). Have dog sit and wait, shove clothes back into dryer, give cue again (Laundry time!) and let dog do her thing, click and treat. After a series of successful attempts, randomize the treats. Observe as husband walks by with a curious look on his face. Make resolution to clicker train husband. Take dogs for walk. Fold laundry.

I know, Lucy is Josey’s dog so he should be working with her, and for the most part he does. I find it too hard to resist the temptation when there are juicy behaviors just begging to be shaped into cool tricks. Emptying a dryer may not seem uber cool to the casual observer, but as the main laundry doer in the household– I appreciate all the help I can get.

Besides, I hate it when people get a kid a puppy and then refuse to help with it at all beyond feeding and vet bills. That’s how perfectly nice baby dogs get shoved out into the backyard and forgotten until they become a noise violation. Lucy is, to put it mildly, extremely energetic. The above picture is Lucy at 10 weeks old (and my shop space which has since been cleaned up.)

She has the most adorable pouty lip doesn’t she?

Lucy’s momma is a Springer Spaniel, her daddy a breed or mix unknown. I don’t even know where to start guessing. She bounces like a boxer, leaps like a Jack Russel Terrier, barks like a beagle, plays like a pibble, and sets up like a german shorthaired pointer. Maybe daddy was a dog of all trades?

My decision, I’ll live with it.

Now that the girls are all rather nice dogs that come when called and don’t (usually) jump up on people, know how to sit and stay nicely, and head for their chew toys when they want a nice soothing nibble I’m starting to feel confident that they can be around my little treasures without causing too much damage.

We still have a few issues though, it’s impossible to do any gentle art with a 130 lbs Great Dane on my lap, I’ve had Greta for 8+ years and have still yet to fully convince her of this point, although if I tell her to go lay on the bed she will happily comply. Georgia on the other hand is completely unconvinced that an entire queen sized bed is just as good as my lap, or that I really want to pay attention to a bunch of string or fabric instead of devoting every waking moment towards staring into her deep soulful eyes and feeding her tripe. Sadie (aka the dog formerly known as Sydney) prefers her little love seat in my bedroom so needlework isn’t much of an issue with her, for some reason the spinning wheel sets her off into a series of long and mournful howls which is then repeated in chorus (and in a different key) throughout the neighborhood; this limits my spinning to daylight hours, away from Sadie, in an undisclosed secure location with the shades drawn.

The typical view of my craft efforts includes a dog nose. A very large dog nose connected to a very large dog.

I’m not quite to the point where I feel comfortable taking my nice clothes, paintings or guitar out of the closet, but I can sneak in a little knitting and needlework if I’m careful to put it all away when I’m done.