Every time I see a mother
antibacterializing a grocery cart handle, I picture that baby as a
college student snorting something white off of the toilet at a rest
area. When I'm applying the second batch of sunscreen to my kids, I
try to guess what kinds of tattoos they will litter about on their
smooth skin. When I am arguing with them about how much no-sugar-added fresh-pressed organic juice they can have (well, it still has a lot of sugar even if it is naturally occurring sugar), I picture them taking shots in their college dorm before they even go out for the night. I'm not a pessimist. I just enjoy the
juxtaposition of the amount of care and detail that a parent puts
into a small child's well-being and the amount of harm and danger
into which a teen to twenty-nine-year-old puts him/herself. Even as I
sit here writing this (having sent my preschooler off to school with
a hat, mittens, and reduced-salt peanuts), a gaggle of teen girls
walks by sans coats and smoking. I get it – the rebellion, the
feeling invincible, the spreading of wings. I know it is necessary
and healthy (not the smoking), but I am already dreading when it
happens to my kids. I hope they'll be late-bloomers and make it to
college before their debauchery really sets in.
Very early in the morning of Sunday,
October 16, I forced my kids to go with me to take the dog out. We
went to the next door park so everyone could run about – everyone
except me and the dog since we don't run. I saw a squirrel crossing
the road and before I even thought about it, I heard myself saying,
“Look at that squirrel wearing a little hat.” Only it wasn't. I
tried to play it off like a joke. I couldn't get the image of a
squirrel wearing a tiny red crocheted hat that tied on out of my
head, though. I considered contacting other local yarny people to
yarn bomb the local wildlife, but rabies makes me nervous. I realized
that if I made the squirrel out of yarn that I could make it wear a
wide variety of hats and clothing. I'd crocheted small, cuddly
creatures before, but it's been a while. It's on my “I've Been
Meaning To Do That” list, which is a lot like a “To Do” list
that is infused with regret and guilt. So I did it. Only I made a cat, which my daughter promptly claimed as her own. She is very cute and smart-looking in her red and black sweater vest and matching red skirt. I felted the bejeezus out of the poor cat, too. I soaked her in super hot coffee-tinged water and threw her into the dryer with a weeks worth of whites. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Probably a year or more ago one of my customers -- let's call her Sharon Z. No, S. Zecchinelli -- gave me the ultimate DIY kit of needle felting goodness. She'd tried it and decided it wasn't for her. I'm always happy to welcome new crafts and crafting supplies into my harem. This needle felting stuff has been weighing heavy on my I've Been Meaning To Do That list. Needle felting the face onto the cuddly stuffed crochet animal would be something like killing a bird in the hand with two bushes.
There was something about making this very cute, preppily dressed cat that made me want to make something a little more, er, edgy. As edgy as a crocheted woolen stuffed animal could be. Let me introduce you to Punk Bunny. With her dainty features and soft pink nose and lips, she has a lot of cuteness to overcome, which is why she rebelled with a carrot tattoo on one arm and a heart on the other.
You can tell she's smart, has a dry since of humor, and switched from saying "tinkle" to "piss" around eighth grade. Punk Bunny runs around with a crew of fellow punks from good homes. Like Punk Elephant. He is, as you can obviously tell from the plaid shorts, British. Although his trunk is covering it in this picture, that is a peanut on his shirt. My blogmate Alison needle felted the nut on his shirt. You can tell by his rotund belly that there is not many a teatime that he misses. He's very hardcore right up until his Gram picks him up to drive him home from school.
They've been childhood chums with Punk Sheep since nursery school. He's dainty and has a secret crush on Punk Bunny. He's self-conscious about his skinny legs.
Alison suggested we put "Sheep are the shit." on his shirt. I didn't want to have to explain that one to my recent reader daughter. His hair is real sheep's fur. I needle felted it into his head, and his face and hands are undyed yarn. He has a really sweet face.
Punk Pig really has the most to overcome. First of all he's pink. Being cool increases in difficulty exponentially the pinker you are. It's a fact. Punk Pig has got to constantly watch his weight because being a fat pig is just too cliche. Only, counting calories is also not very cool.
The Punk Animals like to hang out, listen to music, smoke ciggies, and pretend to be cooler and tougher than they are.
As you can probably tell by all the crocheting and blogging and hanging out with small children and baking of cookies, I am neither punk nor edgy. That's why the edgiest thing I could think of was adding "z" to the end of a word rather than the standard "s." Don't let my hardcoreness startle you.
Right now these guys are for sale at
Artist in Residence gallery in Enosburg Falls. I have to tell you, though, we miss them hanging out around our house. Sometimes when the kids and I were watching movies, we would set these Punk Stuffies on the couch to watch with us. My daughter said if they don't sell in three weeks then I get to bring them home to reside with us.
Here we are at the gallery crappily explaining how to needle felt.
Making all these just made me come up with more ideas for more crochet felted animals that I want to make. I'd like to get to work right away on them, but I have a feeling it will just get added to my
I've Been Meaning To Do That list until after Chrimbo.
