Dolls

You'll likely see quite a few dolls on my blog in the upcoming months. My mom's Christmas theme is "All dolled up" .
At Thanksgiving (Canadian, lol). My mom and I spent an afternoon making paper dolls. Here are my two:
The images are Catherine Moore's Character Construction rubber stamps. They are so fun to work with.

And the winner is......

Well, hold on , I have to light the candles...
then after I blow out my candles,
Ray will pick a name from one of my favourite vintage bowls.....His head is turned the other way, so he's not peeking......Here it is!
Congratulations Jennifer!
Jennifer also has a giveaway happening over at her blog. It is super cool. I really want to win, so maybe you shouldn't go over there and enter. Oh, all right, go on over...... Good Luck!

Etsy Update! Owls!

I've added these super cute owl ornaments to my etsy shop.

Also: you have until 10pm tonight (Wednesday, October 28) (toronto time -- Eastern Standard)
to enter the giveaway below)

Poe Day 13 - and a giveaway

Remember this?Well, it's finally time to reveal what it turned into.
Well, it's all wrapped up in this:(I used crumpled waxed paper and sewed on a card with an imaged that I stamped. I think that the stamp is from Red Lead). So I made this pin keep. Actually, the felt can be removed from the middle and it can be a little "pocket book" Or a signature of paper can be sewn in to make a little book.
This is the cover:(the Raven is actually sparkly, but you can't tell in this photo)
inside the front cover:
inside the back cover:the back cover:
I'm going to give away one of these to one lucky commenter on this post. You don't have to be a blogger, but you do have to leave me some way to reach you. I'm going to draw the lucky person on Wednesday, October 28, which just happens to be my birthday!
(I'm going to draw the name at 10 pm EST)

Another proud mommy moment

Last weekend Lauren and her University of Toronto Rowing Team traveled to Boston to compete in the Head of the Charles races (this is a major international event). Her "four" won gold!! This is the first time that UofT has won at this event -- and many other UofT competitors came in the top 3 also. Their coach, Rob Watering is a fantastic coach and has done so much for the team. So congrats to all of them!
This is a closeup of the medal pictured above -- I think that it is beautiful and I'd like to frame it for Lauren. (It's about 2 1/2 inches across)
This weekend they are at the Ontario University Championships. Lauren won bronze in her double and her coxed four! Great work, girls! Next weekend are the Nationals. They are Montreal -- I'll keep you posted!

Poe Day 12

We're getting close to the end!
Today's gift is from Liz who lives in the UK. Liz was my partner in the Frida swap awhile back. She doesn't have a blog.....
It came in this tiny package....Inside is a teeny tiny book! It is The Raven! It is about an inch high and 3/4 inch wide. Wow!
Can you guess who tomorrow is? LOL

Poe Day 11

Well, it finally stopped raining long enough to photograph Catherine's gift. I have many pieces of her art collected through swaps in at least 3 different Yahoo groups! Amazing, since she lives in The Netherlands (and sadly, has no blog)

I just love this hanging canvas (the wire is cut out of the picture) It's about 4x4 -- and I don't know if you can tell, but in the centre there is a square cut out and Poe is recessed inside. Very cool.

Poe Day 10

Day 10's gift is from Pilar.
I am so happy that Pilar is part of this swap. I own a few pieces of her work (a milagros heart and a fabulous cuff), and today I get to open something else!The wrappings in this swap have been spectacular -- and some have been hard (mentally) to open because they have been stitched up so I have to rip them open. I didn't want to rip this one open.....but of course I did :)Inside is the coolest ornament. It's stitched heart that has the feel of paper clay -- but I think that it's just layers of paint -- and Pilar has hand painted the face on it. A heart with wings is my favourite image.

Poe Day 9

Don't you just love this wrapping? I love the stitched detail!
Julie made this perfect cuff. I opened it at school today and wore it all day! The kids were very impressed. This is the second cuff made by Julie that I have the extreme pleasure of owning. She made one for a trade at ArtFest last year. It has a sea monster on it. The kids really love that one too...

Poe Day 7 and 8

I'm a bit behind.....
Day 7 was just adorable!!!!Michelle made us each our own Edgar!
Day 8 came in a spooky text wrapped box with a spider on top! Inside was the scary eye pin. Very cool use of a vintage zipper from Dawn!
Now I can tell the kids that I always have my eye on them :)

Hey, I'm famous (again) :)

Nicole Baute, from the Toronto Star came across me somehow... I think that it was my blog :)
Anyway, she wrote this article about knit graffiti aka yarn bombing. Go here to have a look! Or, even better, go buy a copy of the Star! It's on THE FRONT PAGE!!!! (really, mom, it is, it is right there on the front page)

My blog isn't listed in the article -- but a link to Nancy's is on the online article-- go and check out Nancy's blog! This is what Nancy added to my knit up:

The article called me "a blogger and arts and craft maven"
maven (also mavin) is a trusted expert in a particular field, who seeks to pass knowledge on to others. The word maven comes from the Hebrew, via Yiddish, and means one who understands, based on an accumulation of knowledge.

Poe Day 6

Today's gift is from Mija. This raven has been wonderfully hand felted -- and then bright baubles have been hand stitched to it. It has a pocket inside -- so you can wear it as a necklace and carry something in it -- like your lip balm (I don't go anywhere without it :). Please click on the photo for a slightly better look -- or even better, hop on over to Mija's blog -- she's got great shots of it!

Let the Wild Rumpus Begin!

This is the movie that I saw tonight. I took Ray out and told him that I was taking him for a surprise somewhere. I didn't say where! Where the Wild Things Are is his favourite childhood book. I remember my brother reading it, but my favourites were "I Wish that I had Duck Feet" and "The Plant Sitter".
Anyway, I read some good reviews and some bad. Someone said that this is a film about a child, but it is not a film for children. I would agree with that.
So sorry for posting about it again! But I HAD to. If you like fun and silliness, and want to embrace your inner bad girl (or boy) Go see it. Go see it now.Which brings me to this:
a new Knit up!
It's in McCormick Park (Between Queen and Dundas, on the east side of Brock -- in Toronto)
Again, I've made it interactive, asking people to add a bit of "something" to it.
(in the movie it says "let the wild rumpus start!" -- some copies of the book say that, some copies of the book say "let the wild rumpus begin" I prefer the latter.....)

Poe Day 5 -- Kelly's hideous heart!

Hahaha -- just kidding, Kelly -- it's not hideous in any way -- it's beautiful! Well, I just have too many beautiful things to wear on Monday. I'm going out for dinner and a movie tonight, what accessories shall I wear?Anyway, head on over to Kelly's blog, Soul Humming. She has way better pictures of all of the gifts than I do :)

Poe Day 4 - Shrine to the hideous heart!

Today's giftie is from Terrie!
The wrapping is a cool fabric bag -- it looks like Terrie printed this image on the fabric, then sewed it up.

Inside is a fully coordinating shrine pendant! It is a shrine to the Tell- Tale Heart (as was Saundra's yesterday). I can't wait to wear it to school Monday. This is a very cool addition to my necklace collection.

THE TELL-TALE HEART

by Edgar Allan Poe
1843

TRUE! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees --very gradually --I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded --with what caution --with what foresight --with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it --oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously --cautiously (for the hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights --every night just at midnight --but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers --of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back --but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.

I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out --"Who's there?"

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; --just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief --oh, no! --it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself --"It is nothing but the wind in the chimney --it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel --although he neither saw nor heard --to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little --a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily --until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.

It was open --wide, wide open --and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness --all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.

And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? --now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! --do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eve would trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye --not even his --could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out --no stain of any kind --no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all --ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o'clock --still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, --for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

I smiled, --for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search --search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: --It continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness --until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.

No doubt I now grew very pale; --but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased --and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly --more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men --but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed --I raved --I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! here, here! --It is the beating of his hideous heart!"

-THE END-