Kelee: Valentine's Day Hat

My little girl is all about pink and hearts and love and glitter, so Valentine's Day is right up her alley. Of course, so is Thanksgiving because she always gets the two confused and has been thankful "for passing out hearts" for the past three Thanksgivings. She's a pretty rocking little girl so when I made her a new hat with the pink yarn she picked out, she also asked for me to make a mohawk on it. Or a fauxhawk. Or a yarnhawk.

If you haven't made these before, it is easy enough. You just make tassels pointing up. She's been wearing the hat contentedly for a while now, but with Valentine's Day coming up, I got tempted to heart it up. It turned out to be easier and cuter than I'd expected. First I cut out a heart from some felt.

I put a few drops of some fabric glue on it and stuck it to the hat then embroidered on it. I would recommend, however, that you skip the glue and do the decorative embroidering before you attach it to the hat. I had to sew through the glue in some parts and it was really hard to do.

Apple couldn't help but to be lured into the embroidering of her own heart. In the traditional reclined position of an expert embroiderer. 

I ended up with the all my thread ends and stranding on the inside of the hat. If you embroidered the heart first and then attached it with some decorative yet functional outlining of the hat, that would be enough to secure the heart onto the hat and it look better on the inside of the hat. If you are concerned with that sort of thing.

It looks great on her giant head and is the perfect mix of sweetness and rocking - just like my little girl.

 I embroidered the word "love" in cursive because I love writing in cursive. That's not really why. I was hoping it would look tattooey. The girlchild embroidered "love" and "mama" on her own purple felt heart. Sniff. Sniff.

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Basking in the Chrimbo Glow

You can tell it's the day after Chrimbo because I ate toffee, fruitcake, and cold, leftover Chinese food for breakfast. Plus, I haven't showered or left my pjammies in a few days, and my only goals for the day are to shower, to sled, and to nap.

In years past, I've gone crazy making gifts of Chrimboness for the various people in my life. This year I just tried to keep up with special orders for sales and the baking of various Christmas candies and cookies. However, when asked for her gift list, my sister specifically requested with respect and love, "I don't really need anything. I don't know. Why don't you just make me one of those little crafty things you do." Free reign crafting? Yes!

crochet stockings

I really wanted to make her crochet slippers. When we were children we got crochet booties from some old lady every Christmas. My sister always wore hers. Now I get to be that old lady! Last year I made my family stockings in the style of Great Aunt Lolly's crochet stockings that we'd grown up with. Once after a bit too much eggnog, we snatched those stockings off the window and wore them around the house on our feet so I knew they were functional. And since I wanted them to be really warm, felting was a must. I used a big crochet hook and double-stranded the yarn. When I finished them, they were huge and I was convinced I'd have to also give my sister a foot stretcher if I wanted them to fit her.

However, they felted up very, very nice.

 

I totally love the way they turned out. I wore them around for a while. You know, to ensure quality. I gave them to her yesterday, and she either liked them or is an excellent liar.

Little Man asked me for an all-green hat with a pom-pom. I think he was just trying to make me feel good, but it totally worked. I made the Girlchild a hat with a flower on it. I made some for special orders this Chrimbo that she'd asked for, but they were selling like hotcakes in the store. It was nice to give them hats that were first draft rather than all the "too ugly to sell" ones that I typically give them. Here they are in them and their handmade pjammies that my blogmate Alison made and gave them.

And there's the whole family (although I am behind the camera) doing our annual Chrimbo Day Sledding with warm heads.

  

Now that I've showered and spent a few hours sledding, only one goal remains to be accomplished.

Kelee: Get Stuffed, All About Crochet Felt Stuffed Animals

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.

Another Felted Bag

[Use your imagination to picture me putting the bag into the dryer at this point]

Crafting Bravely

People choose to be brave in all sorts of crazy ways. They take potentially deadly jobs (like police officer, soldier, drug mule, or convenience store clerk), run marathons in Antarctica, wear swimming suits in heels on stage, swim with crocodiles, or stand up in front of an auditorium full of high schoolers. My way is to take this wool item that I spent days making and to throw it in the dryer. Sure, it's not as risky as being a drug mule, but the rewards are greater.

Recently, I made a big batch of small circles in a variety of colors. I can no longer remember my original intent when I made these circles. My terrible memory is a curse and a blessing.

I was chopping green olives to make this amazing recipe when I realized how much I love the pimento-stuffed olive. Aesthetically speaking and the taste-equivalent word, olives are the bomb. (Are people still saying that?) I like how they line up all off-centered. They do an amazing job of combining red and green and not looking Christmassy.

I came up with this design.

I squared up the motif following this intricate, brilliantly written pattern. Then I did it again a zillion times. Literally, a zillion times. Then I ate some goldfish. Then I sewed together all the squared-up, off-centered, olive-inspired circles.

Here comes the part where my bravery was really tested. The bag and I were alone in a dark room. One single bulb hung above our heads. "It can be as easy as you telling me what I want to know and me walking out this door." But the bag refused to talk.

"I'll ask you one last time. Is it more fiscally advantageous for me to buy bulky yarn or worsted weight and use two strands?"

When the bag still didn't talk, I took it by it's lengthy strap and held it under scalding hot water with dishwashing liquid. Then I dripped hot, soapy water all over the floor all the way to the dryer into which I tossed the bag and slammed the door shut. I did not photograph this part. I've learned from others' mistakes of taking pictures of themselves torturing bags.

Since I wanted the bag to be seriously felted, I let it dry for almost an hour, re-wet it, and dried it even longer.

When this bag came out of the dryer, it was oddly misshapened and even smaller. I use a very tedious, mathmatically complicated, scientifically exact method of reshaping.

I call it The Very Tedious, Mathmatically Complicated, Scientifically Exact Back of the Kid Chair Shaping Method.

The next issue I must tackle is whether or not I should line the bag. This decision will really test the limits of my bravery.