BETTY BOOP or MY DOGGIE QUILT

Close-up of my dog applique

 My newest project, Betty Boop,also known as "Boo Boo, the Boston Terrier in my version of a doggie quilt. Betty is the family pet & I foresee everyone fighting over this last creation. The tiedye was a lucky find in the bottom of my fabric bin. My sister Donna Waters Evans gave me the orange linen and  I was looking for something that "went" with it.

Betty's actually much prettier in person but this was the best I could do with my limited quilting skills. I look at the "art" quilts  and wish I was able to match their expertise but it will never happen. Oh well, I'm happy with my progress so far and that's all that counts LOL


Tye Dye Doggie Quilt

COONDOG QUILTS

Coon hunting is an old and time honored Southern tradition where men go out in the fall to let their prize hounds run through the woods in search of a raccoon. My sister Donna & I have been making Coondog Quilts in honor of our Dad, Arbon Wayne "RED" Waters, who was a coon hunting fanatic. All his dogs were named "Blue" no matter their color or breed. He very seldom killed anything, just went out with his buddies & listened to the dogs run. I can still remember him coming in late at night, smelling of the cold & woods, talking about how some wily old coon gave Blue a run for his money before going to tree. He could tell all his dogs apart by sound of their bark alone & know if they were running or barking "treed". The quilt on the left is mine & the one on the right is Donna's.

 

Love you Dad, and still miss you every day

 

 

MY SISTER'S HOME BURNED TO THE GROUND

Last Friday my sister Teresa’s home burned to the ground. They lost everything, including both dogs that were sleeping in the back bedroom. Luckily Teresa, Randy, and their son Quin got out OK; but it was a close call.

Randy (who is self employed and works at home) was working in his office located in the front of their trailer while Teresa and Quin were in the living room, when Teresa heard the smoke alarm go off. Thinking the battery had gotten low she walked down the hall to check when she noticed smoke next to the ceiling. She heard a clicking noise in her son’s bedroom and just as she looked in the door the bedding and curtains burst into flames.

She ran back down the hall yelling fire; grabbing her purse and fleeing out in the freezing cold with Quin, both of them with no shoes or coats. Randy is self employed and managed to grab his hard drive with all his business records but nothing else. Thank goodness they also had their phone and were able to dial 911 for help.

The house was engulfed in flames in minutes, a total loss. Later the fire department said it was an electrical fire that had started inside the wall. That’s why it spread so fast. The fire was in the walls of several rooms before ever breaking out into the open where it was noticeable.

Lucky it happened in the daytime. If it had happened at night, Quin would have died for sure and probably the entire family would have perished. They lost everything. We’ve been digging through the rubble and found a few things. It’s amazing what will survive a total burn down. Teresa had an antique chest that was totally charred, but everything inside only suffered smoke damage. We managed to find some heirloom silver and it appears that lots of her family pictures might be salvageable. Also, several of our Mom’s old Christmas ornaments survived with only some blackening and might be restorable.

The extended Waters & Finely families and our wonderful friends have been rallying around. Teresa’s family is staying with my youngest sister Lana, who inherited our old family home after our parent’s deaths, and are regrouping. They didn’t have a penny of insurance and it’s going to be an uphill battle to replace their loss.

This is to thank everyone for their help and to remind each and every one of you to check the batteries in your smoke detectors; they can truly save your life. I just went and bought two brand new ones, mine are old and it’s been a wake up call for all of us.

CHEYENNE CHERRY-SERIAL KILLER IN TRAINING

Only in New York could a 17 year old girl - in just 24 months time: steal an I-Pod at gun point, steal a dog at gun point and ransom it, assault a small child - and get off with only a slap on the wrist each time. THEN CHEYENNE CHERRY COOKS A LIVE KITTEN TO DEATH IN A HOT OVEN AND GETS OFF WITH NO TIME IN JAIL, AGAIN!

A Bronx teenager roasted her ex-roommate's kitten to death in a stove - then brushed off the incident as a joke when she was busted, authorities said Thursday. "I hate cats," Cheyenne Cherry, 17, allegedly told investigators when asked about the heartless crime ........ in a shocking act of animal abuse, they tossed the woman's kitten, Tiger Lily, into the stove and cranked up the temperature ....... the kitten was burned so badly a necropsy had to be performed to determine its sex.

What are these judges thinking and where are her parents? Cheyenne Cherry's only defense was "it was a joke". My Mom and Dad would have skinned me alive for animal cruelty and they would have flat out killed me (actually, they would have made me wish I was dead) for any kind of robbery, much less armed thuggery. I would have had to beg the cops to keep me in jail, because that would have been safer than going home!

I hope Cheyenne Cherry rots in hell; but I bet before that happens does she'll become one of the few female serial killers or at the very least a child abuser. It's obvious that this teenage she-devil has no morals, no feelings and no sense of right or wrong. Lets hope she never procreates, any child sentenced to have her for a mother wouldn't stand a chance.

I don't think therapy will help this monster and death's too good for her. She should be locked up for the rest of her life so that other's can rest a little easier. You can tell her what you think about her at her MySpace page:

Cheyenne Cherry myspace: http://www.myspace.com/shortypopoff11

NEW YEAR'S EVE POST

Wahoo! I actually got 24 hours off Sunday (worked off midnights at 6 AM and came back this morning at 6AM. Working is a bitch but it pays the bills). I went home, fell into bed with a puss cuddled on each side, took a nap until noon and then went to town with my buddy Carol.

Carol was on a mission, in search of the perfect curtains. We hit Target, Wal-Mart, TJ Maxx and K Mart. The perfect curtain had to be navy blue, room darkening, and kid proof; not too much to ask but it seems that solid color curtains aren’t in fashion. She finally bought some at Wal-Mart but they weren’t exactly what she wanted.

Along the way I wound up buying a new plaid trench coat for 50% off and several pieces of amber jewelry (I’ve got a thing for amber). I also got lucky and found some digital Christmas ornaments (you download pictures onto the permanent memory and they act like a digital picture frame hanging on your tree) for 75% off at Target. That’s a great deal, marked down to $7 from $29.99; I got one and Carol got the only other two left. The ornaments were hidden behind some other stuff; otherwise they would have been gone because all the after-Christmas stuff was really picked over.

While standing in the checkout line I always pass the wait by reading the magazine headlines. I pointed out one on Cosmo to Carol that said in big bold letters “DIRTY SEXY SEX” and remarked to her that although it’s been a while, the last I remembered, if sex isn’t sexy then you’re doing it wrong! After all our ramblings I got home around 8 PM, passed out on the couch until 10:30 and then went to bed and slept until the alarm went off this morning.

The weather man is predicting our first snow flurries in the morning, Alabama isn’t known for the white stuff so they're making a big deal out of it (any time the forecast is for snow or ice everyone here makes a run on the grocery store and buys out all the bread and milk, I have no idea why). Tomorrow night it’s supposed to get down to 18 degrees so I guess I’ll have to break out the long johns and heavy socks. I just hope the road doesn’t ice over because I drive up and down mountains on narrow 2 lane roads and we don’t get weather days at the paper mill. Gotta remember to get some more cedar shaving for the dogs house on the way home this afternoon, too. Nothing worse than frost-bitten pooches.

I hope all of you have a Happy New Year; I’ll be snug in bed long before midnight so if you celebrate, drink one for me.

ON THE FLOOR

Now I know I’m getting old.


After spending several hours in the floor surrounded by wrapping paper and bows, I found that I couldn’t just get up like I used to. Damned if I didn’t have to get on my hands and knees before I could struggle upright and on my feet! I go to the gym, I do setups and all that other crap, why the hell did my tired old bones lockup after hunkering down on the carpet? I was OK once I was standing, but gravity had me glued to the floor. It was like there was a big magnet sucking my fat ass downward every time I tried to stand up.

The cats seemed to get a kick out of it; they circled me meowing either encouragement or insults, I couldn’t tell which. I shoulda chunked them both up against the wall before I got up off the floor, just to teach them not to laugh at the person responsible for filling the food dish and emptying the litter box. Thank God no one else was around to witness my decent into feebleness or else I never would have heard the end of it (I know y’all won’t tell anyone!).

Guess I need to take up yoga or something to help on my flexibility. There aren’t any classes here in the boonies but I can get a CD and entertain the pussies some more. Thank goodness there aren’t anymore presents to wrap; I’m not sure I can go through anymore humiliation this week.

THANKSGIVING MORNING

A blustery breeze swirled moist mustard yellow leaves around my ankles as I stepped out of the car. Dawn’s anemic sun peeked through the remnants of storm clouds, casting a sickly sepia tone over everything. Last night’s thunder-boomer had passed; a goose-bump inducing drop in temperature and icy mud puddles the only evidence that summer’s long drought was over.

Puppies peeked out of the insulated doghouse, little black noses and floppy ears signaling that while they noticed Mommy was home, not one sorry flea-bitten hound bothered to leave their shared body warmth long enough to say “Good Morning”. Can’t say as I blame ‘em. Usually they play this fun game of twining around my legs or darting beneath my foot just as I try to take a step, trying to see if they can trip me between the car and the house. Selfish beasties, letting a little cold and wet interfere with their display of doggy affection, I should short them on their kibble rations!

After a long 12 hours sitting on my ample ass in front of a bunch of computers I was ready to hit the bed and snuggle with the poo-kitties for a long nap. I shed my coat and bags in the kitchen and was walking through the house leaving a trail of clothes behind me when I noticed the blinking amber light on the answering machine. Thinking “It’s Thanksgiving, someone is inviting me to fix a plate on the way to work or just giving me a cheery 'Happy Turkey Day” I hit the play button.

A sad/little boy lost/I just lost my best friend/nobody loves me voice said “Junebugg, its ex-sweet thang. I just wanted to talk, give me a call”. NOW HE WANTS TO TALK. Sounds like a personal problem to me, and it ain't no problem of mine.

Hitting the delete button, I slid between the sheets with the cats draped on each side of me and drifted off to dreamland. After all, I don’t get a day off until nest Friday week and I don’t have time for all the drama.

My new motto courtesy of Popeye: “I stands all I can stands and I can’t stands no more”

SNOT & CARNIVORES

Y’all forgive me, I know I haven’t been around in almost a week but I swear I have one hum-dinger of an excuse besides for the obvious one of Sweet Thang being in rehab (he came home, well actually to his Mom’s house, today! 3 WEEKS IN THE HOSPITAL AND REHAB AND 6 MORE WEEKS UNTIL HE CAN TRY TO LEARN TO WALK AGAIN. ). I’ve been suffering, and I do mean really truly suffering, from one hell of a summer cold. Stop right here if you’re faint of heart or weak of stomach.

Wednesday a week ago I got this annoying tickle in the back of my throat and started having uncontrollable sneezing fits. "Aha", I thought, "my allergies are kicking up". Thursday night I started running a fever and semi-drowning in a flood of snot that insisted on oozing from the old snoz. "Dang, maybe it’s not allergies after all!"

By Friday I was simultaneously coughing up a lung, blowing snot bubbles and fighting the runs at both ends; "Hey, I may really be sick!" There’s nothing like sitting on the toilet, garbage can conveniently centered between your feet within easy upchucking distance, with nobody but the cats to listen to you moan and groan. Heck, did you know that when you have the crud very time you cough the muscle contractions in your body will force a stream of liquid poop out your butt while snot dribbles down your upper lip and you wind up scrubbing both ends with reams of toilet tissue?

Not to worry though, I’m almost fully recovered after over a week of being sick, a sack full of OTC meds and a truck load of tissue. I still have a lingering cough, stuffy snotty sinuses, my nose looks like it belongs on Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and both it and my bunghole are tender as hell; but the fever is gone and food stays down so I think I may live although there for a while I had my doubts.

It got so bad that I started having flashbacks (maybe it was a fever dream?) to all those news stories and horror movies about people kicking the bucket while home alone and their pet pussies munching on the corpse, eating the deceased owner’s face off before anyone found the body. I tried having a long talk with Rufus and Shitty Kitty about love and respect; how Junebugg ala tartar probably wasn't very tasty (and would most likely give them indigestion) and that it just wouldn’t be proper to strip the admittedly plump flesh from my tired old bones; but the feline duo kept looking at me with twin evil gleams in their little slitty-kitty eyes and licking their chops (I swear they even drooled a little!) so I kept the food bowl overflowing, you know, just in case.

The worst thing is I haven’t gotten to see Sweet Thang in over a week because I’m afraid he’d bust a stitch coughing if he caught the crud from me (plus I'd feel really guilty if I gave this deadly virus to anyone, especially him!). We’ve played phone tag every night and I’ve got my fingers crossed that I’m almost over being contagious. I’m working nights this weekend and hoping I’ll be totally well by Monday; I’m in bad need of a little sugar and I know he’s ready for some TLC that doesn’t involve a nurse or his Mom.

PICTURES

It's been a busy weekend so I'll just leave you with some pictures from Karen's birthday party, plus one of Rufus doing his thing.
Karen and her husband Joe.

Karen's son Brock and me.


Me and Sweet Thang


Rufus doing his "You know you want me" kitty porn pose.

SUNSHINE ON MY SHOULDERS

One of the things about living in the South is the never-what-you -expect weather. Last Tuesday it was in the 20s with the weatherman erroneously predicting snow flurries and now:

BUTTERCUPS! It's in the high 60s outside and after taking a small nap I spent the afternoon raking the yard wearing a tank top. My place is covered with fallen leaves, but that's not why I was sweating & raking. It was because when you have young.......

They tend to go out and find stuff to strew all over the place, like whatever it was in the back yard.......

Bad Dogs, Bad Bad Dogs! I just hope it wasn't some kid's Christmas present, because it sure didn't come from my house!

Now if ya'll will excuse me, I've got a pot of white chili (made from the last of the bird) simmering on the stove; the aromas of cumin and peppers wafting through the house, and I need to put a pan of cornbread in the oven. Not that sweet shit either. REAL CORNBREAD, made with buttermilk and baked in a time-seasoned cast iron skillet that is reserved for cornbread cooking alone (I'll get ill in a hurry if you try to fry something in my cornbread pan! It takes years to get one seasoned just right, and I've had the thing since 1974.)

Damn, I love living in the South.