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Little Slice of Heaven, Rural Pennsylvania, United States
wife. mommie. daughter. home-maker. my family is my passion. when not chasing children, husband, or pets about i like to bake, sew, quilt, cook, dig in the dirt, tromp around, take pictures, ponder, and fill my lungs with good, clean air. i am a very blessed girl.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Thoughtful Thursday

Home is the definition of God.--Miss Emily Dickinson

Sunday, February 19, 2012

The one in which I misdirect my meager opportunity for creativity. . .

Meet Rrrrrrrrrico
(one must roll one's r's when announcing said pig)

"I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille. . . "

"And that concludes our floor show, ladies and gentlemen. You've been a lovely audience, you're beautiful, I love you.  I'll be here all week.  
Try the veal. 
You won't be disappointed. . . "

It's mesmerizing, isn't it, that wee little mouth munching away.  Between you 'n me, I could watch a snacking guinea pig for hours on end.---I know.
Don't say it.

This is what happens when Mr. Bric takes the small brics for a long walk.  I could have been sewing.  Sadly, no.  No, friends, today my urgent creative need was met by filming the guinea pig. 
 I don't understand it either.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Sunday, February 5, 2012

A wee burst of stolen creativity

A new sewing machine cover.  Out with the obscene plastic, in with the wincingly cute handmade.

Sewing machine cover tutorial offered by Ellison Lane Quilts  
Underneath its lovely new cover, sleeps Midori---the Janome 6600.

And here are some pincushions, made with scraps culled from the bin and a little time to play:

They are hefty at 5 inches across, and weighted with craft beads under the polyfil.  These fellows won't go skittering away.  Notice the treasured bit of Heather Ross camper van fabric.  That pincushion will be winging it's way to the West Coast as a gift to a dear friend that actually drives one of those pop-tops around town.  Actually takes the fam camping.   
It is not an ironic pop-top---it is used for its intended purpose. 

I cannot begin to describe the depth or breadth of my envy. . .