Rummaging

I'm really happy I didn't donate my bright red 100% wool Gap sweater to the thrift shop years ago.

I always loved the color, but the sweater is a little scratchy.  I haven't always made clothing purchases wisely. Now that I'm needle-felting I'm very thankful I've kept this old sweater around. It's about to become a Santa...with plenty left over for one or two more. 

First, I cut a slice out of one sleeve.  Think calamari. Then I drew a pattern for an oval shape that would close up the slice on the larger end.

This was fairly easy because the sweater fabric is stretchy and has some give. Then I cut out a red oval and whip-stitched it to the sleeve tube with red sock yarn (remember the red sweater ornaments?)

 

I put a beanbag (left over from an old craft fair) in the bottom and filled the tube with stuffing.  Next, I threaded some wire (a Mr. Gadget cheap tool store purchase) through the top for bendable arms and gathered the open end of the sleeve tube almost closed.

Then I dove (make that belly-flopped) into my bag of wool roving (gifted to me by other Marcia) and found a nice piece to wrap around the wires.

He has a ways to go to become a Santa, but I'm not in a hurry.  I have other things to work on.  I love to juggle projects.  I also love to rummage.  It's fun to see just what I can come up with using things I have in my stash....which is exactly what I'm planning to do for dinner.

Dear, dearie, dearest

Mr. Gadget and I are not users of mushy endearments.  I never call him honey or sweetie.  He never calls me darling or sweetheart.  Sometimes I do call him Mr. Gadget.  And sometimes, when he's really feeling loving toward me, he calls me Mrs.  Which is why I was compelled to purchase this mug the other day at Home Goods.

It has a few imperfections and it leans a little.....mostly to the left.....and it holds more than a cup of coffee....so it suits me to a T.

Now that I have the first of the two owl embroideries finished, I've been doing some high-speed stitching on the second.

It gives me a chance to let my needle-felting finger pokes heal, and to rest my thumb joint from the knitting arthritis.

Knit, purl, pedal

I hate to exercise.  I know there are people who actually enjoy it (Big City Girl who likes to box), and lots of people who don't mind it too much (Mr. Gadget).  

Yesterday I discovered a way to work out that might be a little less annoying.  I found out I can knit while riding a stationary bicycle.  This might just be my greatest discovery since I learned I could sew with two toddlers underfoot by putting my sewing machine on the kitchen counter where I could easily disengage the foot pedal.  I love when this happens.  With enough ingenuity nothing and nobody can ever interfere with my hobbies.

So now I'm working on a new witch....in the Treehouse...by myself...sitting down....with birds chirping outside my windows.

I sketched and cut out a pattern from card stock.  I had to add some length afterwards because I had forgotten to allow for the paper-bag style bottom that will allow her to sit.

I traced around the shape on a double thickness of muslin and stitched it together all around.  I made a small slit in the middle of the back for inserting weighting pellets and then I stuffed it firmly.  I realized, again afterwards, that it needs more weight.  Next time I might plan a bigger bottom.

Then I applied a coat of gesso to the front and sides of the head, and after it dried I added the paperclay and began sculpting the face.  As I've said before, I love making witches because the less perfect the face the better they look.  From a primitive point of view.

While I'm working on her I'll try to think up a good limerick.  Or maybe while I'm biking and knitting I can come up with one.  I'll be so busy I won't even know I'm sweating.

Little red fuzzballs...

.....also known as needle-felted beads.  I'm planning to make a necklace....after I talk to my jewelry-making friend Sally who can advise me on chains and fasteners and stuff like that.

You might be wondering how I plan to end up with beads  all the same size.  It's going to be a challenge, but I have a plan for that too.  I'll designate one bead as the role model for all the others.  If some of the others don't quite measure up, I'll inject them with steroids (or, add a little more fuzz).  And if some are slightly overweight, I'll send them packing to the locker room for some deflategate (or do more poking). 

I'm making two crockpot dinners this week--both new recipes.  The crockpot is the next best thing to not cooking at all. Well, I take that back.  If Mr. Gadget cooked, that would fit in right between those other two.  But Mr. G. forgot everything he knew about cooking when we got married...with the exception of toasting a bagel which he does very well.

We had CP dinner #1 last night and we both gave it a thumbs-up. We are fans of Mexican food, so if you are not you can just skip right over it.  I did use flour tortillas and made burritos instead of tacos

CP dinner #2 is cooking as I type, so no report will be available until I post next.  Smells good though, and I did throw in some extra mushrooms. (I didn't post in a timely manner, so I can tell you it was another thumbs-up.  Add a little red wine to kick it up a notch.)

I think I've told you before about how I hate to have blood drawn and that on one or three, or maybe more, occasions it's been just short of a torture session.  Sometimes I've been forced to lay down with a committee of three surrounding me to discuss options.  Now that there's been a change in my insurance, I'm required to go to a regular lab (as opposed to the doctor's office).  Yesterday I had some blood drawn and I did a happy dance all the way to the car.

So I'd better go give the crockpot a stir.  We need to eat early so Mr. Gadget can attend the condo association meeting tonight.  I'm so glad he doesn't insist that I go.  The meetings are usually loud and contentious.  He handles them better than I do.  After all, he grew up in New York in an Italian family....  And I don't mind saying that I hope tonight's meeting goes into extra innings because I have lots of good shows saved.

And before I go, here is one of my Kleenex owls all framed.  I did it myself with a frame I had on hand.  Don't pay any attention to the waves above his head.  Those are just emanations from his aura.

Wax isn't just for ears

A witch known for being unconventional

dreamed of life atop a golden pedestal.

But it wasn't to be

without an exorbitant fee,

so she sits in old wax from a candle.

A treehouse tale

I'm working in the Treehouse today and making some progress on my latest clay witch.

Her face is done and now needs some spray-on sealer.  Usually I brush it on, but this time I used watercolor paints and colored pencils so the spray-on finish will, hopefully, keep the colors in their places.  I'm flying by the seat of my pants using watercolor paints on clay.

Here's her hat.  A ball of crochet cotton works splendidly as a drying rack. 

When Big City Girl and Tech Guy were about middle-school age, I used to fantasize about how I might escape now and then from their crazy-making antics.  I would visualize a treehouse sitting in the branches of a big oak tree in our backyard.  Here was my plan:

While the two dastardly rascals were away at school, I would have a couple of construction guys come to the house with a load of lumber.  They would build a simple treehouse that would be big enough for me, a comfy chair, and a cooler for refreshments.  I'd ask them to attach a rope ladder that could be raised or lowered at my discretion.  And, of course, they would have to make it spider-proof.  That goes without saying.

If the guys worked quickly, they would be gone and I would be up in the treehouse with my knitting when the kiddies arrived home from school.

I could only imagine their surprise.  "Mom, what are you doing up there?" they'd yell.

"I'm knitting," I'd say.  "I don't know when I'll be coming down exactly," I'd tell them.  "But I'm sure you can find a way to get along with each other and fix yourselves some dinner."

"This is not fair, Mom!" they'd scream.

"And don't forget to feed the cat."