BeeKay's Blog

crafts, food, makeup, clothes, shoes, books, cats, life

Well, Here We Go!

As long promised (or should I say threatened) I finally got my Etsy shop off the ground. It’s been a long, slow, steady process, but there I am. I have only a few things up at present, but in the coming days there will be much, much more.

It’s called BeeKayCreationsGifts—as I said, there’s not much up there at present, but I intend to add (and make) much more in the days to come.

Needless to say, my anxiety was ramped to the max, so there were a few stumbling blocks on the way because of said anxiety, but slowly but surely I achieved this goal.

Watch this space!



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Beekay Is Making Plans for Etsy

Well, I have finally gotten my head out of my hindquarters and am moving forward full tilt boogie on my Etsy craft boutique. I’m planning to start very, VERY small (to gauge reception), as well as offer PDF files of various cross stitch patterns I’ve designed (all contingent upon copyright costs, if any).


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Let’s Get This Started in Here


Well, look at what I received in yesterday’s mail. Answered Prayers! I hope to get over there tomorrow and score some more sweet fabric for my projects.

Lots to do, fingers crossed I can muster up the motivation to get things done and not feel like an unproductive lump. Though I did finally manage to tweet Beth Stern about my cat Maggie’s resemblance to her cat Sweet Dreams:

BethStern tweet

Would love nothing more than to make TexMex chicken and black bean enchilada casserole for dinner, but cannot find the recipe I love to use. I’ll see if I can improvise, and provide the results at a later date.

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It’s One of THOSE Days


Fly Eagles Fly

It’s the morning after the Eagles whooped the Vikings but good (how ’bout dem Iggles?) and my throat is a bit sore after all the yelling and chanting and carrying on I did last night. Lemon tea with honey will help with that, I’m sure.

Given that I’m in a pretty buoyant mood, I decided to hit the ground running with some long overdue projects. I’m in the process of establishing a shop on (store name: BeeKayCreationsGifts). I have some pricing kinks to iron out but (fingers crossed) I can get it up and running by week’s end.

I’ll also have two bangin’ Eagles cloth bowls done in time to post for sale. A run to JoAnn Fabric and Craft will soon be in order, as I will need Eagles bandannas for Maggie and Sarge, and will definitely want to make a Super Bowl wreath for the front door. (At least my Valentine’s Day wreath is in good shape). JoAnn better do me a solid and send me a “get 20% off your entire purchase” coupon by the weekend. I think it’s time.

Orioles fabric was special ordered and is in the house ready to go for more bowls and bandannas, and I’ll pick up some Phillies, Yankees (blergh), and baseball cloth as well.

I’ve also vowed to fully clean one room a week until the house is clean, in case the spousal-unit and I decide to have a Super Bowl party. So far I’ve done the foyer (with the exception of the floors) and most of the living room (excluding the baseboards). I’ll let you know how that turns out.

Off for another cuppa—have a wonderful and creative day!


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Isn’t That Always the Way?

Ever have one of those moments where you put something away for safekeeping, then forgot where said safe space was?

Ever have one of those days when you don’t really care how nice your hair turned out (because you are going out into the frozen tundra and you’ll only be squishing said hair under your Marine Corps beanie) and it looks BANGIN’ … but days when your hair really really REALLY has to look good, it goes straight to hell, despite your amazing stylist and vast collection of hair care products?

Ever experienced the time you inventoried all the sewing projects (namely McCall’s M6664, view E, and McCall’s M6930, view C) lying around your craft room and think that JoAnn Fabric and Craft vomited all over it? Not to mention, you picked out the perfect colors (Amaryllis, Capri, and Ibis White) to paint said craft room and then realize how much crap will need to be moved before you can even think of busting out a paint brush?

Ever look at the store of unfinished cross stitch projects you have stashed near your comfy chair and wonder Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, how did this get so crazy?

That, dear readers, is the story of my life. Looks like I’m going to have to channel my internal warrior woman and get to work.


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Ode to a Most Excellent Teacher

12 October 2010

Dear Ms. [last name redacted]:

First, I’d like to apologize for not hand-writing this letter. Something this heartfelt should be hand-written (to my mind, anyway), but my handwriting has been atrocious lately, so I’ll spare you some squinting.

For the past several years, I had hoped to get in touch with you to tell you about the extremely positive influence you had on my life. Thanks to A[redacted], I am now finally able to do so.

You, along with my dad helped me to develop my understanding and appreciation of the written word, and its importance. I remember your teaching us that popular/ contemporary songs could be considered a form of poetry – that “Kiss the Dirt (Falling Down the Mountain” (INXS – me) and “Be My Girl (Sally)” (The Police – [redacted]) were poetic, owing to measure and rhyme. It encouraged an open-mindedness to what could be considered “poetry” and therefore “art.”

I always admired and hoped to emulate your zero-tolerance attitude to bullcrap. I like to think I’ve been successful in following your lead, for the most part.

Most importantly, I remember your confrontation of a very angry, troubled and lost young woman who was thinking of dropping out (no, going to drop out) of high school. You asked me to help you get something from the supply closet – once we were there you proceeded to give me one of the most brutal verbal beat-downs I’ve ever received, even now as a thirty-something adult. And you really didn’t say much – your disapproval was writ large across your face (I love the phrase “writ large”).

You told me you heard what I was considering doing (no, doing).

You told me it was the dumbest thing I could do.

You concluded by saying you would be extremely disappointed in me if I went through with it.

And then you walked out.

(You may have also ignored my presence for a day or two.)

That stung. And I’ll admit I was very angry with you for a while, but time gives us perspective, and eventually we understand.

Because you told me off, I stayed in school. Hated every moment of it, but received my diploma. I am sure I would have hated every second of working at Burger King but there you are.

Because you nurtured the seed my dad planted, I graduated with honors from West Chester with a degree in English (minor in creative writing).

Because you were my teacher, and taught me well, one professor said of a paper I wrote:

“This is one of the best undergraduate papers I have ever read; I consider it master’s level actually … excellent job! Be proud of it – it’s special.”

And another informed me that the quality of my paper on Arc d’X far exceeded the others in our class (and his other two classes on the subject), therefore my grade was being upped to an A+.

And mine was the only A in my class.

But most importantly, because you cared I was able to choose a path that allowed me to use my love of the written word to its fullest and have a career that, while sometimes frustrating, is extremely fulfilling. God only knows where I’d be if you hadn’t stepped in and given me what for.

I know this letter is 22 years too late, but I wanted you to know that you were one of my favorite teachers at [school name redacted], if not the favorite. That I appreciate the way you taught us, opening our minds to the beauty of the written word (because of this, I admit I can appreciate the skillful writing in The Story of O and cringe at the same time while reading it). That because of the foundation you helped lay, my love of English and my kung-fu writing skills have served me well in a rewarding professional career, from cellular telecommunications to venture capital to medical education/medical communications.

But most importantly, I want to thank you for caring about a girl who thought no one gave a crap. That means more to me than words can ever express (yes, even for someone who writes).

If you are ever in [redacted], you can find me most days (except Sundays and Mondays) at 602 [redacted] – perhaps my boss will allow me to play hooky so we can go to lunch; there are several lovely restaurants in my block.

Ha ha, my boss is me, so it’s do-able.

All best,

The BeeKay

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A Repost, in Honor of Sarge’s Third Anniversary in His Fur-Ever Home

(Original blog title “Wrong ‘Em, Boyo” courtesy of The Clash, with a tip of the hat to Mr. Karel Minor, Executive Director Extraordinaire of Humane Pennsylvania, fellow animal rights supporter and Clash fan)

Picture it: mid-January 2015, late morning, route 422 eastbound, somewhere in southeastern Pennsylvania. The spousal-unit was driving to work when he noticed a cat carrier placed just-so by the side of the highway. He called to tell me about it; unfortunately, he could not stop as it was rush hour and he was already late for work. He said if he saw it on his way home, he’d stop and check it out.


The scene of the crime. (I was not driving when I took this photo BTW)

Fast forward to 8 pm. that same night. Hubcap stopped to find that the carrier was still there, and that there was a (live) cat in it! No idea how long the poor thing had been stuck there; but suffice it to say it was 16 degrees out when the spousal-unit returned to check on the carrier. And (I will try to put this as delicately as I can), the cat had nowhere to go to the bathroom for God only knows how long. It took a lot of bleach and hot water to clean the carrier, and quite frankly I’d have a hard time putting a kitten or a ferret in it, let alone a grown-ass cat, the carrier was so small …

The spousal-unit originally wanted to drop the cat and carrier off at the Animal Rescue League; I said no, as I would prefer to leave the cat with a person rather than dump the cat off in the surrender area.

It was a Tuesday night. The Animal Rescue League is closed on Wednesdays. So the cat was treated to a night in our basement with food, fresh water, a litter box, a bed, and a gazillion hiding places.

I am sure you know where this is headed.

Long story short, within 36 hours of a sort of homecoming, the cat cleaned himself up (yes, he is a boy, he was an intact boy if you get my drift – he is intact no longer [sorry, fellas]), earned the name of Gunnery Sgt. Highway (he was almost Gunnery Sgt. Hartman, after the character in Full Metal Jacket – and my maiden name – but the spousal-unit said no), and endeared himself to the ladies of the family. It helped that the spousal-unit was given two first-class tickets on the Guilt Trip Express (thanks, Mom!) … over two years and a couple vet visits later, SARGE (aka “the Boyo”) has settled well into his fur-ever home, and we are so lucky to have him.


Gunnery Sgt. Highway reporting for duty.

Remember: Adopt! Don’t Shop! Shelter/rescue pets are the best pets, and I speak from experience. And if you can’t adopt, you can support animal welfare organizations in other ways; visit your local shelter for their needs and wish lists.

Oh, and to the negative vibe merchants who dumped this gorgeous cat like so much garbage: Karma will come gunning for you.

Unfortunately, cruelty to cats (animals) is all too common, and receiving increased media coverage. Two cases of feline abuse were reported in my local newspaper (Maisy made Philadelphia news, possibly even national as PETA got involved).

Click here to read about Miracle Maisy, and here to read about Churchill, who bears a distinct resemblance to my Sargey boy. Who, as I type this, is graciously sharing his office chair with me.





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New Year, New Me

As blogged about earlier, my New Year’s resolution essentially is to get $#!t done.

My plan to accomplish this:

  1. one small chore five days a week
  2. one chore I HATE with every fiber of my being (e.g., scrub floors) five days a week
  3. one hour sewing
  4. one hour crafting
  5. blog two or three times a week
  6. journal every night
  7. meditate in the morning and before I go to bed
  8. fill a 30 gallon outdoor trash bag with stuff to discard/give away at least twice a week

It’s still a work in progress but, as always, watch this space!

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No, I WON’T Give Up My Baseball Caps

So I have a copy of this book. In this book, if you look at page 225 you will see the most hilarious eye mask that I bought in the Portobello Road after having seen it on “Absolutely Fabulous.”


Trinny and Susannah say there is no reason a woman should wear a baseball cap.

I beg to differ.

I usually wear one when I’m headed over to see my stylist. Why do my hair when I’m going to get my hair done?

I (most times) wear one when I go grocery shopping.

And it’s pretty much de rigueur at ball games.

And with that, I will leave you with this:

princess di ball cap

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New Year, New Creations

Happy New Year! I wish all of you, dear readers, a happy, prosperous, and healthy 2018!

Overall, my resolution for the New Year is “get sh!t done,” and one of the items on said sh!t list is maximizing my creativity. To that end, a friend and fellow classmate (A) posted on Facebook that her daughter wanted a particular Bob Dylan quote engraved on her class ring; the vendor demurred as (gasp!) there is profanity in said quote (clutch pearls!). She and the vendor argued back and forth (after all, as A pointed out, Mr. Dylan is a Nobel Peace Prize winner for Literature, so why is this quote unacceptable? And who’s going to see the inside of Dear Daughter’s class ring when she’s wearing it? riddle me that!) until they reached a (somewhat) mutually satisfying compromise.

I posted that the quote in question would make a great sampler, to which A replied, “I knew you would say that.”

Challenge. Accepted.

I came up with this sweet little chart in no time flat:

play it fucking loud

Bob Dylan said so. (I can only imagine the horror if Dear Daughter had requested “Everybody must get stoned” instead.)

A liked it, therefore I must make it so. And so I shall, using the following:

  • 18 count black Aida cloth
  • “play it” DMC 333
  • “” DMC 333 with DMC 5289 metallic accent
  • “LOUD” DMC 995 with E3843 metallic accent

Thinking of a simple silver frame to top it off, perhaps getting a sterling silver treble clef for an additional accent.

Looking forward to keeping you all apprised of my progress; however, I do have a favor to ask. A wanted to know how much it would cost to execute this project. I had most of the materials at hand, and will have to purchase black mounting board, the frame, and the treble clef (if I decide to include it). So naturally I would charge for materials I had to purchase, not sure about labor. A and I have known each other since elementary school, FWIW.

Any advice you may have, dear readers, is greatly appreciated. Feel free to email me here.

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