Hello, my name is ...

With the recent launch of my pattern shop and impending book release, I've had a few raised eyebrows about my last name and how to pronounce it.  Believe me, I tried really hard to convince my husband to take MY last name.  But my grandfather was Albanian and my maiden name was only slightly less ... er ... problematic ... for (most) North Americans.  So for those of you who are curious I'm re-publishing my first blog post from Feburary 14th, 2011 where I address the matter of how to say my name without hurting yourself.

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Before your head explodes, here's how you pronounce it:

... kinda sorta.  At least that's how I say it. 

Lemme 'splain.

First Name – no, I didn’t go through a rebellious phase where I had my name legally changed just to be obnoxious.  It’s always been this way.  (Even Margaret Atwood questioned me about that at a book signing in 1993.)

For years I wished I had a name that people would automatically know how to spell - like Jane or Barb or Lisa. 

I’d say “Kristyne with a K” but they’d have CH written before I got to “with a K”.  So they’d change the C to a K, making my name start Kh.

And then it went down hill from there. 

Over the years I learned to just start spelling. To all erasers out there, “You’re welcome.”

Last Name – (can I buy a vowel please, Pat Sajak?)  I love my husband.  Very much.  He’s from Poland.  I’m not.  He can say our last name properly.  I can’t.  Even after 16 years of marriage.  And I'm fully aware that when I do try to pronounce it correctly, I look like a baboon doing kegels while lip-syncing to the Beatles "Hey Jude".

So I don’t. 

And you probably shouldn't either. 

Unless you're Slavic.  Or a linguist.

Just call me Christine ...

with a K. 

I'm good with that.

Oh You Have GOT to be Kidding Me!

Okay. 

So.

(Sigh.) 

I got a new iron.  Which boasted - among other features to justify the $160 price tag - that it WOULD NOT scorch fabric.

May I present to you Exhibit A ...

Seriously?  Are you KIDDING me? 

I think I might have used every bad word in the English language. 

More than once.

Because "picklejuice" and "fiddlesticks" weren't cutting it.

Don't worry, I spared the children by using my inside-my-head voice.

But I'm pretty sure Martin Scorsese woulda been impressed.

So now do I use one of my reject blocks?  Or replace this one ... because it WAS one of my favorites ...

I think I need a break from this quilt.  Clearly I'm being punished by the quilting gods for not making that 111th block.

Besides, I got a fun new book I want to show you next week.

And I really need some fun right about now. 

"Look out Weekend, here I come!"

A Word About Hand Quilting, If You Please ...

When I made my first quilt in the mid 80s (I was 19), I thought that a quilt was only a REAL quilt if it were ALL pieced AND quilted by hand.  (Feel free to roll your eyes ... I won't be offended.)

The first two quilts I made were English paper-pieced hexagons ... and I didn't know how to hand quilt properly so I STAB STITCH hand quilted them all in the ditch ... I'd say several miles worth of thread.  Remember I never exaggerate.  (I also used polyester batting, backed one with a bed sheet and didn't know about binding ... but I digress.)

I realized if I wanted to make more than five quilts in my lifetime I was gonna have to figure out how to do this quilting thing faster ... enter straight line machine quilting.  Regarding my 19 year old attitude, I'm proud to say I'd matured considerably.

I finally took a hand-quilting course in 2000 after I made a Baltimore Album quilt and felt it really needed to be hand quilted.

As I watched my needle-rocking technique improve dramatically over 16 blocks and was reminded how beautiful PROPER hand quilting looked, I regressed to my 19 year old obnoxious self and proclaimed I would NEVER again finish ANY of my quilts by machine.  EVERRRRRR.

AHEM.  Yeah, RIGHT!  Enter motherhood 6 months later.  I managed to finish 3 baby quilts by hand before obnoxious me finally shut up about hand quilting 11 years ago.

Fast forward to today.  OmG do I ever hate how long it takes to hand quilt.  And omG does it ever wreak havoc on my tendonitis.

But OMG do I ever LOVE the look of it!  I can't help it.  Call me a snob, I don't care.  I will NEVER in a million years feel about machine quilting the same love I feel about hand quilting.  Never.

Don't get me wrong.  I highly respect longarm quilters and the very talented work they do.  And I've seen countless machine, FMQed and long-armed quilts that are nothing short of breathtaking.  I've hired several in the past and will continue to seek out and enjoy long-arm quilting on future quilts.

But I hold a very special place in my heart for tiny dimpled rows of stitches made by hand.

I would have machine-quilted this project too ... in a heartbeat ... because I was anxious to get it done and my wrist was hurting from the several consecutive days of embroidery and applique.  But I really wanted to honour Amy's design and knew the embroidery would look a million times better if I bothered to hand quilt carefully underneath my stitchery.

So glad I did. :)

My Needles - A Primer

Yesterday I had a few questions about needles so I thought I'd write a post on the subject. 

Brand

There are a bazillion needle manufacturers out there ... and I never exaggerate. But my favorite needles are from Jeana Kimball. 

If you know anything about marketing, you would label me as a "brand loyal" sort of person.  Jeana's got needles for all my sewing needs, the quality is really nice, I never have trouble with them, I can find them locally ... and I love the cute little cases they come in.

Purpose

I have four types of needles in my sewing arsenal...

(not including the curved upholstery and super long soft sculpture needles from a bear-making class I took some 15 years ago)

... each for different uses.  Sharps, Straws, Betweens & Embroidery.  (Keep reading for an explanation of each.)

Size

As with other manufacturers, Jeana's needles are sized according to length.  I don't know why, but the bigger the number, the smaller the size.  I'm sure there's a very logical explanation for this nomenclature ...

Also, it's important to know that a #size of one type does NOT translate to the same size in another type. 

For example, see the difference between a size 11 Straw and a size 11 Betweens?

Does Size Really Matter?

That depends.  ;)  Lemme 'splain. 

If you find yourself trying a new sewing method and aren't sure what size needle to use, I know Jeana sells Sampler Packs - an envelope with one of each size of that type of needle.  The fact that Jeana and other manufacturers actually SELL Sampler Packs should tell you something.  I suggest getting one of these packs and trying out the different sizes.  Some people don't care.  But I've found that most stitchers who spend a lot of time with a needle in hand will develop preferences based on everything from the task to the size of their hand to their technique. 

Sharps

This is my "go-to" needle for general things like mending, reattaching buttons, that sort of thing.  I'm not really picky about size with these ... whatever I have on hand usually does the job. 

Although you can bet I've used Straw needles to hem pants and Betweens to sew on a button ... most of the time my mending needle is the first one I pull out of my pin cushion!  Major bonus for me if it's already threaded with the right color. ;)

Currently I have a package of size 9 Sharps in my drawer.  

I seem to go through a lot of these.  Not sure why.  I think there's a needle black hole somewhere in my house.  My husband used to find them with his feet ... a lot.  But since becoming a mom I'm better at keeping track of them ... sorta.

Straws

I only use these for applique.  They are thinner and tend to bend - which is a good thing for applique work.    I like size 11.

I've heard more than once these work great for hand-stitching quilt binding.

Betweens

These are designed for hand quilting.  Whereas Straw needles are very thin and long and therefore bendy, Betweens are thicker and shorter and much less flexible because they need to endure a lot of pressure from the thimble and being loaded with multiple, heavy stitches.  And after a lot of use, however, my Betweens will still develop a slight bend. 

Again, size 11 is my preference. 

Embroidery

I used to buy 11s but now I find my poor aging hands are more comfortable with the slightly longer 10s.

I've used 3 of my 4 needle types just for this one project:

Embroidery for the embroidery ...

Straw for the applique ...

and Betweens for the hand quilting ...

I only know about these needles because I've taken applique, hand-quilting and embroidery classes ... and used them all ... a lot.

Yeah, no.

I tried something new ... new as in I've never done it before ... not new as in I'm so brilliant to have just invented quilting with embroidery floss.

Amy quilted around her circle with floss and I love hers.

And Monica did an AMAZING job quilting her Granny Squares with floss.

But I'm only lukewarm about my circle quilting.  And this edging?

Hmmmm, yeah no.

Don't like it.  It's too ... I dunno ... loud?  Too chunky?  I'm not doin' so good with my adjectives today.  It doesn't have the  refined daintiness (better) I'm going for with this project.

And plus I think I pulled my quilting stitches too tight so the circle is all ... hoochy coochy poochy.  (HA!  Take THAT you troublesome English language!!!)  (Just please ignore the "and plus" at the beginning of this paragraph ... I know it's naughty ... but I did it for comedic effect.)

So I unpicked.  All of it.  This pretty little thing is too ... pretty ... to not fix.

Sigh.  No pain, no gain. 

Wait, What?

(Imagine soft, lilting background music ...)

Ok.  So I was happily stitching away, playing around with floss colors, making a few mistakes, unpicking some stitches, being impressed with my redos, enjoying my work ... and then deciding I needed one more color for the flowers.

This is the color I picked.

(Insert "needle scratching record" sound effect here ...)

Wait, what?!

I KNOW! 

I had to go look in the mirror and ask, "Who ARE you and what have you done with Kristyne?!  She would never ... ... ... what's the word ... VANDALIZE ... her pretty pink & ivory & sage green embroidery with ... with ORANNNNNGE!"

Well, apparently she would. 

I don't understand.  It doesn't make sense.  In my mind it's practically sacreligious what I'm doing!

But there's a new muse in town ... she knocked on my door and I invited her in for tea.  (I think she probably would have preferred to simply text me ... if I knew how to do that sort of thing.)

And I'm liking our conversation.

But don't worry, I promise to end my relationship with her if she starts talking about the 70s ... and avocado appliances.

It's a mystery to me ...

why not EVERYONE loves to do this sort of thing.

Seriously.

Making stuff - 'specially pretty stuff - is THE.best.therapy.GOING! 

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I've had a few questions about the size of my blades and the circle for this project.

I made this template for myself ...

But both Amy and Anne used this nifty tool.

And my circle for the embroidery finished at about 6" so cut it 6 1/2" in diameter.  That said, I'm not using an embroidery hoop so I don't need extra fabric.  If you like using a hoop, I'd suggest cutting a 10" square, tracing the design, stitching and THEN cutting out the 6 1/2" circle.  Make sense?

Daisychain Sampler "R"

R is for I'm on a ROLL here!

And if you're Canadian, it's also for RRROLL up the RIM to win time, eh?!  LOL!  I actually went into a trash can yesterday because I forgot to roll up my rim before I threw out my cup ... didn't win anything though.

For those of you who have absolutely no flippin' idea what I'm talking about, lemme 'splain.  There's a famous national donut chain (yes, there is some merit to the stereotype about Canadians & their donuts) called Tim Hortons - locally known as Tim's, Timmie's, Hortons ... and probably other nicknames I haven't heard. 

Tim Horton was a hockey player turned entrepreneur.  And may I just throw down the gauntlet by saying that Tim Hortons beats Krispy Kreme (an American donut chain) every day of the week and twice on Sundays.   Other donut shops have gone head to head with Tim's, but none have lasted. 

Just sayin'.

So once or twice a year, Tim's has a nationwide contest where you have a chance to win a prize ranging from a free coffee or donut to a car.  The potential prize is hidden under the rolled edge of a paper cup, hence the term "roll up the rim" - and you have to roll the R like you're Scottish. 

I don't drink coffee.  Tim's does have a nice steeped tea, but I can get tea for free at home.  And then there's also the thing about me not having enough self control to walk into a donut shop and NOT order a donut ... so "just a cup of tea" ALWAYS turns into "a medium steeped tea, double double (that's how I order cream & sugar) and a 10 (or 20) pack of assorted Timbits".

However, yesterday I was at the swimming pool for an hour on a field trip with my daughter and I WASN'T allowed to bring any stitching because then I wouldn't be WATCHING her jump off the diving board like I promised.  And I also didn't have time to make a cup before I left home.  But there just so happened to be a Tim's drive-thru on the way to the pool ...

But I digress.

LOL!  I'm gonna make all you non-Canadians at least honorary citizens by virtue of meaningless trivia about this fine country if it KILLS me!!!  LOL!  You can thank me next time you're struggling for a topic of conversation and you find yourself talking about donuts and Snowy Owls at a cocktail party. ;)

All right, all right!  Keep your shirt on ... here comes the Sampler.

I wasn't sure if this dark brown & light pink would work together.

I was worried the dark would end up super loud ...

... and the delicate pink would disappear.

I don't think that happened.  I am totally diggin' how it turned out.

"Just Bring Your Knees Up a Little Bit More ..."

WARNING:  I enjoy "potty" humor more than the average girl ... maybe a little too much.

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As I type these words now I'm not sure I'm going to publish this story.  I don't know how it ends yet. 

There's colon cancer in my family ... I almost lost my Uncle a few decades ago and my Aunt lost her battle with the disease a few years ago.  And every time things aren't ... er ... regular, if you catch my drift, I worry.  Which can often lead to me totally freaking out in the middle of the night as I lay in bed CONVINCED my daughters are going to grow up without a mother ... all because I was afraid of ... a little ... probing.

I was scheduled for a colonoscopy a few years ago, but chickened out.  Now as I sit too close to my mid-forties I've totally had enough of the fear and I need to know for sure.  My Uncle was younger than I am now when he was diagnosed.  And maybe my Aunt would still be here if she didn't succumb to the same fear and embarrassment I struggle with.

So.

I dunno. I thought I might try to keep my sense of humor about this whole thing to make it easier. 

I met with my LADY GI Doctor ... there is ABSOLUTELY NO WAY I was going to be violated by miles of rubber tubing ... with a camera & light on the end no less ... by a GUY. 

Lemme 'splain.

I'm a fairly modest person.  (Oh sweet irony I'm writing about having a foreign object shoved up my "you know what".) 

Having babies sorta helped cure me of a lot of that stuff.  If I can handle being strapped naked to a gurney like I'm being crucified and then having a way too cute anesthesiologist administer an epidural while I undergo a c-section ... and then all the post-op indignities ... I'm over a lot of my former modesty hangups.

But this ...

THIS is an altogether different thing.  Totally different oriface.  And totally the wrong direction. 

Sorry.  Too graphic?  Too gross?  Too offensive?  Sorry.  I'm just pretending we know each other really well.

Where was I?  Oh yes.  Lady doctor.  I didn't mark my appointment on a calendar.  Classic avoidance behaviour.  But I knew the date was near.  I'd been thinking all last week that I needed to find the paperwork with the preparatory instructions when I got a call Friday from the nurse with a gentle reminder.  I'm worried that is the end of all things "gentle" from here on out.

So off to the pharmacy I went.  I'd written the supplies on a pretty paper I could discreetly hand to hopefully a female on the other side of the counter. 

But it wasn't a girl.  And it wasn't in my pocket.  Turns out I'd left the note at home on the kitchen counter.  So I was forced to ask in a hushed a tone ... and cleverly added it was for my husband (sorry Honey).

This is what I got.

Oral PURGATIVE?  Is it just me or does that word sound a little too much like Purgatory?  Too bad it's 9 letters long ... that would be one sweet score for Scrabble.

And what's with this "cute" little slogan on the side of the box? 

I bet the dude who was paid to write that in his Madmen office with a window didn't have to actually "experience" the product as part of his job either.  "Away" in italics?  Seriously.  What does that even mean?  Where ELSE might the inferred by-product go? 

I like how ORAL is repeated. 

Considering the impending procedure, I suppose clarification is a good idea.  Although exactly how would a person administer this powder in ... you know ... the OTHER end?  LOL!  With a kitchen funnel?  No don't tell me, I DON'T want to know! LOL!

But this is the best part ...

Ok.  Now I'm getting nervous.

Lame joke:  What did the oral purgative say to the colon?  "Resistance is futile, you WILL be evacuated."

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PREP DAY

I'm only allowed hospital food today ...

Yum. 

I also made a batch of orange but I ran out of ramekins so I thought I'd pretty it up with some Laura Ashley chintzware.  (Note:  NOT allowed the clementines ... they're just to make the picture look nicer.)

I also get chicken consumme ... gross. 

And all the clear tea I want to drink.  Guess I'll be peeing all day and then ... you know ... the other thing ... all night.

Sweaty palms. 

I really want some chocolate right now. 

But I'd settle for a handful of nuts or a hard-boiled egg.

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I'd forgotten how much fun it is to suck jello through my teeth.

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There went my last chewable fingernail.  Now what?

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4:00 pm.  One more hour before the "festivities".  (I am so nervous right now.)

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5:00 pm.  All right, it is ON like DONKEY KONG!  I don't even know what that means, but it makes me laugh.

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THE NEXT MORNING

I can sum up last night like this:  10 hours, 10 trips.  With a few little bonus rounds in the morning.  That's it.  Honestly, I was expecting painful cramping and also ... burning ... as in, like, Mexican food's exit strategy.  Followed by extra laundry with lots of bleach.  And the possible need for drop cloths between me and the bathroom. 

Nope.  None of that!  It was TOTALLY easy.

Now I won't lie to you, there WAS a little of this ...

but not terrifying amounts.

A word of advice ... don't be wearin' pants with a belt, zipper & button.  Just put on pjs or sweats.

I've heard it said several times that the prep is worse than the actual procedure.  This bodes well ...

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THE DAY AFTER

Yesterday was ... an experience.  Here's a recap, as I remember it. ;)

After showing up, being asked if I was here for a COLONOSCOPY (no, I'm looking for the Barry Manilow concert!) and having to sit in the waiting room with all the other poor schmucks who are in for the same thing ... also looking just ever so slightly embarrassed and nervous - there's an unwritten rule here that eye contact is forbidden - I was still calm and only very mildly self-concious. 

Watched the nurse write my last name on a giant white board in the hall way where everyone else is listed (of course I looked for a familiar name ... and hoped no one would recognize me) and was shown to my bed. 

Got into "the gown", ties in the back of course, and sat on the bed and waited for something to happen.

Bra, socks & a wrinkly blue gown.  Lovely.  I bet even Jennifer Aniston couldn't rock this outfit!  Ok, maybe she could.  But at least I remembered to shave my legs.  Although it stands to reason that the woman who is about to do to me ... what she's about to do ... probably wouldn't judge me for a little leg stubble.

But here's the fun part.  I had an unobstructed view of an open closet.  Not just ANY closet, but THE closet ... called GI INSTRUMENTS.  Yep.  I spent about 15 minutes staring at these gigantic black rubber hoses hanging on hooks.  I was clinging to the weakest of delusions that they weren't what I thought they were.  Every once in a while someone would go to that closet, take a moment to pick "their favorite one" and take it off the hook like they were going to the checkout counter at The HomeDepot.  And then every once in another while someone ELSE would come back and return one, just as nonchalantly as one would replace their garden hose in the tool shed after watering begonias. 

That's when it hit me ... O.M.G ... these things are REUSABLE!!!  If you know me AT ALL, you might understand a little of just HOW GROSSED OUT I WAS!!!  Listen, I don't even like to share drinking straws.  This is like WAY MORE GROSSER!  On a scale of 1-10 ... a BAZILLION!!  AAAAGH!!!!!

I understand now that the black color isn't to make you think of a Dominatrix but ... oh don't even GO there!  I want to die.

When my prep nurse arrived and started swabbing the back of my hand with alcohol and slapping it, looking for a good vein for my IV, I asked her what those long black hoses over there were for, hoping she would say they were for a rooftop herb garden or something. 

"Those are the scopes, dear." 

I started laughing (I laugh when I'm nervous).  "But they're so ... so LONG,"  I objected!

"Well, so is your colon, dear."

But I was still doing ok.  Blood pressure was good, I wasn't sweating, heart rate normal.  I was keeping cool ... until they started wheeling my bed towards the room.  That's when the fight or flight response kicked in.  But where could I go in my bra, socks & gown tied only once at the back of my neck?  I'm POSITIVE those gowns double as an incentive for patients to stay put.

Plus, I'll be damned if I'm going to let a full day of near-fasting go to waste!

Omg here we go here we go here we go. 

Ok.  Deep breath.  Here we go. 

I caught a glimpse of my prep nurse smiling and giving me a thumbs up (so cute!) as I was wheeled backwards into the procedure room.  Oddly enough, I felt a bit better as I returned the gesture.

I remember them being so nice.  I remember telling them I'd like to watch it on the screen, if that was ok.  They said they'd wake me up for some of it.  I remember asking my doctor why on earth she does this for a living.  She said it was fascinating.  I remember being asked to lay on my side and "just bring your knees up a little bit more" ...  (oh god).

I remember the dizzy feeling hit and me saying, "Ok, here it comes."  I sort of remember a joke about something ...

I vaguely remember seeing my beautiful, squeaky clean colon on the screen for a moment, just like I'd seen on Dr. Oz  ... being told it was done and that my insides were perfect ... no worries.

And then I remember waking up from the best sleep I've ever had in my life.  I've never been put under before.  MAN those are some seriously nice drugs!  

I had an oxygen tube in my nose.  Don't know how it got there.  It was hurting my ears so I unhooked them but didn't really care the rest was still dangling from my nostrils.  I was just so happy to lay there peacefully, thinking it was all done and that I was totally awesome.

The nicest prep nurse in the whole wide world brought me a carrot muffin & an apple juice.  Best.food.ever.

Hung out 'til I didn't want to anymore, called for my husband and was home by 11:00 am.

If you've managed to get through my story, I just want to say if you're scared about getting it done, don't be.  It really ISN'T BAD. 

Seriously, my imagination really psyched me out.  But in reality, it is practically painless.  I think the tiny little prick from the IV needle hurt most of all!

And I didn't die of embarrassment either.

Remember, I cancelled a colonoscopy 3 or 4 years ago and I've been stressed about it all this time.  I probably even have a few extra gray hairs from the worry.  But I didn't need to be.

So if you need one, just go get it done ... if only for the bragging rights.  And the carrot muffin.  And the best nap ever.

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Yep.  I'm clicking "Publish."  But you already knew that.

Communication 101 ... For Moms

If your 8 year old requests macaroni & cheese for dinner and you go to the grocery store with her after school to get the ingredients and you're not sure how much milk is in the fridge so you ask her and she tells you there's LOTS, make sure she knows you mean WHITE milk, not CHOCOLATE. 

'Cause even hardcore chocoholics have to draw the line somewhere ... right?