Kelee: Inspired Crochet Hats

After the fantastic rush of creating and presenting my comic book (you can read Part One by clicking on these words) to such a receptive and astonished (“I'm astonished that someone could spend so much time talking about poop!” ) audience, I assumed that by the next day I'd be fending off paparazzi and denying babybumps like all those super famous and adored comic book writers. That's why I was so shocked when I found myself picking up steaming dog poop laced with half-chewed earplugs off of frozen mud while still in my frog pjammies and winter boots. 

Nina says, "You let your dog eat what?!"

 Apparently, writing an unpublished comic book is not the way to throw yourself into extreme stardom. You live and learn.

I'm doing some studio revamping. My current studio (aka The Portal) is turning into a closet (so sad), but my blogmate Alison offered me a chunk of her studio (so nice). I think it'll probably all turn out to be pretty cool, but in the meantime, I carefully wound and stored my yarn in organized crates that I then crammed haphazardly into my closet. So despite having a decent stash of yarn, I've only had access to one box of tangled ends and small balls. Whew. I can hear my southern accent even when I type “small balls.” 

After a week of sitting next to this box of yarn and starting approximately a gazillion hats and mourning the loss of my lucky crochet hook, all the sudden everything came together at once. First, it snowed. 

The Flying Disc in Enosburg Falls, Vermont

There is something quite lovely and inspiring about two feet of snow. It is typically the norm in Vermont in February, but this winter has been a weird one weatherwise. Second, I found my lucky hook. One minute I was using a crappy plastic pastel one with snagging ridges and then my favorite shiny, metallic blue N appeared in the remote control caddy.

Ol' Bluey

Third, I regained my crocheting genius and stirred up a big ol' batch of hats each more glorious than the next. Too much? You won't think so when you see these hats. 

Row of Gorgeousness

Since I don't get many comments on my blog, I'll go ahead and comment on each hat what you wish you could comment on them if you just weren't too busy saving small babies in Ethiopia or fighting rabid gators in that part of Louisiana that isn't New Orleans. And bless you for that.

 Each one is a little piece of art unto itself. 

 

You wish you could hang it on your wall. 

Oh, and you didn't realize how lovely I am, too.
You are too kind.

Too pretty to wear. 

 You. Love. This. 

The upside of being married to me is all the handmade hats you could ever want. The downside is having hats constantly yanked on your head, a camera flashing away in your face, and someone yelling at you to "work it." That's my indirect way of thanking my husband for modeling these hats.

You can buy one of these hats from The Flying Disc in Enosburg Falls, Vermont, or at my etsy shop.