Thursday, December 29, 2016
My recycled sweater owls were a big seller last year, and every time I've used a sweater to make a larger project I've thrown the scraps into a bag. Post-Christmas I finally dug into that full-sized trash bag and cut up all those scraps into various owl parts. Well, not that many parts -- fronts and backs and two wings. The eyes, beak and feet are all made from felt, because (a) my sanity and (b) I ran out of the one good yellow sweater that I ever found.
There are still more wings left in ziploc bags, but this mess here on my dining room table constitutes all the bodies I cut, with matching (or clashing) wings pinned on. After this was taken, they were sorted into piles by what color thread I will use to attach the wings (there are now about 5 smaller piles) and today I'll start stitching. Once the wings are on, I can do the detail work. I can't sew backs to fronts until my new tags arrive, but that, and stuffing, are the least of the work here.
This is 60 owls. Since I still need to make many more larger sweater animals, I'm hoping to get at least another 40 completed before craft show season starts again in the spring.
Monday, December 26, 2016
Christmas, 1968. This was the year that, while I was listing every Barbie in the Sears Wishbook that needed to come home with me, I also managed to twist my mitten in Santa's beard, so that when I got up, his beard came with me.
There is no photographic evidence of my crime against the holiday, because my mom fell down laughing and nearly wet her pants. (I nearly wet mine, too, but it was fear of getting in trouble -- should have known better with my mom).
And I knew it wasn't Santa. Mom enlightened me early that the real Santa didn't leave the North Pole until Christmas Eve; all the Santas I saw on street corners and in stores were actually his helpers, who were hired because they looked like him and could talk to children and then report back.
Mom was good, I'll give her that. She even hung bells up outside the house one year and pulled a string through the window so that I would hear him fly over after I'd gone to bed.
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
|The roses weren't expecting winter|
I'm finishing up a couple of custom orders -- from customers who thankfully understand that ordering on 12/19 does not guarantee delivery by Christmas -- and then I'm going to take a break.
Which, conversely, means I'll probably get back to blogging, because I realized today when I turned on the computer that I haven't actually sat at my desk in the living room for well over a week. Any Facebook posts or Etsy updates have been done from my phone, or quickly from the desk at my temp job. Neither of which is how I like to work.
I miss sitting at my desk. I miss sitting on my couch, next to Mario, with a cat on my lap. (Probably Annie, who is unexpectedly recovering from a repeat of last year's tumor removal surgery -- it went well, she's almost back to normal, but it was, as these things always are, unexpected).
Right now, all I want for Christmas -- or for any holiday, for that matter -- is the uninterrupted time to go in and reorganize my workroom, which looks like a hurricane, a tornado and a tsunami all hit it at once. Busy is good; busy and throwing everything to one side to get to the next project, not so good.
Happy whatever-holiday-you-celebrate to you all, and I hope to be back here more regularly in the near future.
Friday, December 2, 2016
|Our new yard sign|