Bowled over by the Christmas spirit

Here's the rock all dressed and ready for the holidays. I wasn't sure I'd be able to finish it because, as I said in my last post, I was pretty sure it was a job for a 3-handed person. But I left it on the table overnight and went back to it the next day. And it's as if the muse of unusual crocheted objects had intuited my distress and came to my rescue. I was able to hold the rock cupped in my left hand and work the crochet hook quite easily with my right. Those muses can be very helpful. I don't appreciate them enough. Maybe I'll bake some thank-you cookies.

And then, as if I hadn't wasted enough time, or crocheted enough unusual objects, I decided to dig through my stash for some yarn to make bowls.

Here's the bawdy one to give some perspective.

My plan was to felt both bowls. I was certain the darker one was 100% wool--and thereby feltable--but I wasn't sure about the other. Disappointingly, neither of them felted. Win a few, lose a few. The little one will sit next to my recliner chair and hold my glasses, scissors and Snicker snacks. No. Scratch the Snickers. The other one--which I had planned to gift to Big City Girl and which I had visualized as a lovely blended artsy-looking stripey thing--will sit in the Treehouse and collect stuff.

Yesterday I went up to the old hotel to fetch my unsold crafty items. I had no idea what to expect, but of course I had hoped they would have called me to let me know that everything had flown out the door and there was nothing left to fetch and they would be happy just to mail me a check, but no such luck. I had to make the trek. But I was pleasantly surprised to find that 4 of 8 dolls sold, 8 of 10 felted flowers sold, and several mini sweaters and felted birds were gone. Sadly, I had to bring the gecko home. He's suffering from what I suspect is an inferiority complex and he's lurking behind my recliner in the fake ficus.

So Mr. Gadget and I managed to get the house decorated for Christmas this weekend. Mr. G's job is to put the lights on the tree, and my job is to put everything else on it. For some reason the light-stringing process was especially stressful this year. There may have been a few naughty words that were not in keeping with the holiday spirit. Maybe next year we should trade in our lightless tree for one of those pre-lit ones. Either that or I'm going to get some of those big ear protectors the airport ramp guys wear. Maybe I'll leave a note for Santa.