squirrel momma

March of the Penguins

Here it is, my own personal March of the Penguins.

Okay, it's probably more like Confused Stumbling Around of the Penguins.  But hey, they're penguins with personality--especially Crazy Carl, the guy on the far left.  (And don't tell anybody, but they're about to festoon one of the pieces I'm making for the Plush You! show in Seattle this fall.)

Bleaching Felt, Part 2

I couldn't stand it, and had to drag another helpless piece of wool felt, kicking and screaming, down to my mad scientist laboratory in the basement. This time it was a piece of turquoise that I wanted to see if I could l lighten up to a robin's egg blue color.

It came out pretty close to the shade I was hoping for, with the heathered look you usually see with natural dyes. And see those light spots? I put the felt in the bucket with a couple of inches of water, made sure it was sopping wet with no dry spots, then poured some bleach into the water, not directly on the felt. So I'm not sure if the light spots are from direct contact with the bleach (but I don't see how), or from some sort of residue left (or not left, I guess) from the original dying process. All in all, though, I think it was a success, and the light spots don't go all the way through, so they can be on the "wrong" side when I use it.

If you decide you want to try this I used 100% wool felt and 1 part bleach to 8 or 10 parts water, letting it soak until I could see a faint color to the water--5 minutes this time. Rinse it really well, until it doesn't smell bleachy anymore, then gently squeeze the water out and iron it dry. But as this is a COMPLETE EXPERIMENT AND THERE ARE NO GUARANTEES WHAT COLOR YOU'LL GET I wouldn't recommend it unless you're as wacko about felt colors as I am. Which is pretty darn wacko.

Look at Me! I'm Freeeee!

Oh, yeah, baby.  This squirrel is free as a bird until Thursday, because, magically, the stars have aligned.

If you have kids, you know that the stars don't often align.  It hardly ever happens that the youngin's are all gone at the same time to a sleep over, or a school trip, or in my case, camp.  But yes, on Sunday Squirrel Man and I dropped off both squirrelings at camp.  Squirrel Girl is at cross country camp, the same one she went to last year and loved, where all they do is run, run, run, and then sit around talking about how to run faster.  Nut Boy is at regular old mosquito bite, hot dog, don't change your socks for a week camp, which means he is in nine year old boy heaven.

And moi?  I am at camp, too.

I am at stay at home and sew all day while you listen to books on your ipod camp.

I am also treating myself to eat ice cream for lunch and iced lattes for afternoon snack camp.

Last night my husband and I went out to dinner with other adults and absolutely no children camp.

And today I had a luxurious morning at dawdle at the fabric store and inspect all the Amy Butler patterns camp.

Yup, I just love camp.  

Oooh, and yesterday I had experimental arts and crafts at my camp.  I had some wool felt that wasn't quite the right shade to make hedgehogs with--too grey--and I decided, what the heck, I'll soak it in bleach.

The piece on top is a scrap from some I ordered a couple of months ago from Weir.  Because it's plant dyed, I wasn't too surprised when the newer piece came in a different color.  But after soaking it in a bleach solution, then ironing it dry, I was able to get the new piece (on the bottom) to a shade that is very close to the original one.  Plus, after all that bleaching and ironing, it was much softer.  I have a couple of other pieces of wool felt that I'm not crazy about the color, and I may try bleaching them, too, just to see how it turns out.

Okay, I'm back to blissfully sewing tiny animals in a tranquil house where nobody is annoying their sibling because they're bored camp.

I'd Rather Be Watching

Today Squirrel Girl and Nut Boy competed in their first triathlon. But relax--this was a KIDS triathlon, with kid-friendly distances.  The thirteen year old swam 100 yards, biked 4 miles and ran 2.  The nine year old swam 50 yards, biked 2 miles and ran 1.  Not anything, ahem, their mother would want to be doing in heat and 110% humidity, but for them, not such a huge deal.

It was put on by a whole bunch of really great law enforcement officers.

So first they got ready to swim.

Then they biked.

Then they ran.

And finally they got to cross the finish line!

Go, squirrelings!  Squirrel Momma was so exhausted from cheering she had to go home and take a nap.

Back to Our Regular Scheduled Programming

I've just completed a very special custom order for a fellow member of the Etsy PlushTeam.  TheWhimsyPatch wanted me to design a pincushion that would be a birthday gift to herself (oh, c'mon, I know you've shopped for yourself--we all have!).

I'm always extremely flattered when someone who's a talented artist in her own right wants me to make her a pincushion.  But this request also made me a little nervous, because she wanted the pincushion to celebrate her son, who has just turned two (and is, trust me, absolutely adorably photogenic).  His nickname is Sugar Bear, and she wanted a little boy in a bear suit on the pincushion.

After I agreed, I immediately had flashbacks to The Jar of Past Mistakes.

 

And oh, boy, did I start sweating then.  I realized I had to think about this project for awhile.  Quite awhile.  But eventually guilt, and the fear that her two year old would be old enough to drive before I finished, motivated me to get my rear in gear and come up with this.

Nobody ended up in The Jar, thank goodness.  And that bag of sugar next to him?  It says "Purity Guaranteed".  My own little squirrel joke, hee hee.

This Is How Much I Love My Children

This post comes with a warning.

WARNING:  Do not read if you are disgusted by insects.  Really.  If stories about bugs give you the creepy crawlies, put down your coffee, pick up the mouse and immediately head to one of the many other fine blogs out there (a tiny selection is in my sidebar--I actually read about 5 times that many, but I've been too lazy busy to add them all--apologies if you're not there!).

So.  Anybody still with me?  Okay.

I really am not afraid of insects, and like most of them.  I'll pick up spiders and carry them outside.  I'll buy praying mantis egg cases and hatch them for the kids (although there was that one summer I forgot I had one in a paper lunch sack in a corner of the kitchen and--oh, better not talk about that).  I'll hand feed our pet lizard his meal worms.

But even I have limits.  

We live in an old house, built in the 1920's, with a small tiled area right in front of our front door.  Unfortunately the foundation beneath the tile has a crack running through it, and if there is a heavy rain, and if the wind is blowing from the wrong direction, water can drip down through and onto my washing machine in the basement.  Nothing major, and easily prevented with a few towels thrown down until the rain stops.

So yesterday, cleaning up after a rainstorm the day before, I stepped out onto the tile in my bare feet and picked up the first soggy towel, shaking off stray leaves before bringing it inside.  But then I realized I was shaking these onto my bare feet.  DOZENS of them, scurrying around like little maniacs

So okay, I'll admit that I really, really wanted to shriek with horror, because all those roly-polies were, for some reason that made sense only to their tiny little bug brains, trying to swarm towards me and the house.  But at the same time several neighborhood kids were walking past our house on the sidewalk.  And I knew that if I screamed at the top of my lungs on my front steps while doing the chicken dance I would bring embarrassment upon my children that would last for years.  And take a lot of therapy to get over. 

So I sucked it up.  Stifling any urge to shriek and hyper-ventilating only slightly, I shook out the other two towels (yes, more roly-polies stampeding toward my defenseless toes), danced around to avoid stepping on them in my bare feet (ewww), and eventually went back inside.  Where I slammed the door.  And locked the deadbolt.

End of story.  Tomorrow I'll go back to good, clean, crafting fun.

Slacking Off

Oh, I have been bad, bad, bad.  Slacking off big time.

I should give you a little history here, first.  My mom grew up in the thirties and forties, during the golden age of Hollywood, and spent many afernooons as a girl going to the movies with her big sisters.  When I came along, she passed her love of movies along to me, pointing out whenever a classic was being shown on TV and taking me to bargain matinees to see almost anything worth seeing. 

Then I was lucky enough to go to the University of Michigan when they still had many movie guilds, which showed a mind-boggling range of movies in various auditoriums and theaters around the campus, and I got to see everything from Psycho to Christmas in Connecticut.  About the same time cable TV began broadcasting AMC and Turner Classic Movies, and I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

And yes, I have passed my love (obsession) on to my own kids.  Sometimes, however, black and white classics can be a hard sell, but Nut Boy actually requested we watch one of my all time top 10 favorites.

Oh, geez. I just can't tell you how much I love this movie.  Yes, it isn't completely faithful to the Dashiell Hammett story it was adapted from.  Yes, the beginning scenes are awkward and the story is confusing.  But everything else makes up for those flaws, right from the moment you first see Nick Charles giving mixology lessons to a group of waiters, instructing them that, "The important thing is the rhythm. Always have rhythm in your shaking. Now a Manhattan you shake to fox-trot time, a Bronx to two-step time, but a dry martini you always shake to waltz time."  I did, I will have to admit, have to do some plot explaining to the youngsters (and I also felt like I had to be the voice of virtue and point out that when Nora drank 8 martinis she had a splitting headache the next morning), but it was still fabulous.

That put me in a 1930's kind of mood, and when I was walking by the mystery section in the library I spotted this.

I vaguely remembered reading a review when this came out several years ago, and picked it up.  It's a mystery set in London in 1929, which was about all I needed to get me interested.  I had to force myself to get past the first chapter--I thought the heroine's intuition was going to turn out to be full blown psychic powers, which wasn't the kind of book I was in the mood for--but ended up really enjoying it, as much for the period flavor as the mystery (which wasn't too much of a mystery).  

As soon as I finished that one I was commanded by Nut Boy to read the book he had just finished, Percy Jackson and the Battle for the Labyrinth.

This is the fourth in the series.  I read the first one to Nut Boy almost two years ago, when he was 7, and it was the beginning of his obsession with Greek mythology.  And when I say that, I mean Obsession, with a capital "O".  He read everything he could get his hands that was suitable for children (amazing how much an author can clean up Oedipus), and pretty much ate, slept, lived and breathed Greek mythology for close to a year.  In the middle of second grade he did a presentation for his class on Homer's Odyssey, complete with 25 or so little figures made of Fimo (my favorite was the Scylla, although the pigs for Circe's island were pretty cute), a turquoise lame Aegean, and islands cut from felt.  Oh boy.  Needless to say, the rest of the class probably didn't share his level of enthusiasm, but Mom thought it was pretty cool (a little exhausting to live with 24/7, but cool).  Anyway, the Percy Jackson series, about a teenage boy who is the half-human son of Poseidon, is definitely recommended reading. (And, if you're interested, after our Greek era came Norse mythology, then medieval siege weapons...)

Last on my slacking off list in one that we'll start tonight.  This is the second in a series that also has mythology in it, this one a mishmash of different ones from throughout the world, everything from Egyptian to Celtic.

The kids in this one are older, a twin brother and sister maybe 15 or 16.  It's darker than the Percy Jackson series, but I like it because it has actual historical figures in it--I can't wait to get to Machiavelli!

Anyway, like I said, I've been slacking off big time.  Thank goodness Squirrel Girl loaded new books on my iPod for me--today, my dears, I Multi-Task!

Catching Up

This blog post should be really be sent to the national news services, it's that important. I have cleaned off my work (otherwise known as dining room) table!

Don't get too excited; I only did it because my parents were coming over for Fourth of July dinner.  Today I am promptly cluttering it up again with things like this--

That's a goldfish firework I swiped out of my husband's stash yesterday and took apart (it used to have wheels underneath and a small firecracker--when you light this kind it blows sparks and rolls around).  But see how the top part is all one piece?  It's like a pre-made pattern for a three dimensional stuffed goldfish!  This baby is definitely go right near the top of my project list.

And I also have this on my table now--

That's my latest haul from Weir Dolls and Crafts.  We drove to Ann Arbor on Thursday to do some shopping (mostly at Whole Foods and Trader Joes, as we're total foodies and can't resist stuffing the car with grocery bags full of stuff we can't get around here), and I picked up the felt at Weir's warehouse.  You have to call ahead, because they don't have an actual retail store, but saving the $8.75 shipping helped convince the squirrel spouse that the two hour drive each way was worth it.

And see the two rolled up pieces?  They're a new type Weir is carrying, called "thick" wool felt.  It is indeed thick, but not extremely dense (not like an industrial felt), and would be perfect for felting onto...or I can squish it down with a steam iron...or maybe even mold it!  Whatever I end up doing with it, I'm just happy to find that aqua shade, because it's my favorite color and a special customer has requested it for the piece I'm working on for her.

Speaking of special customers, I forgot to show you the piece that was part of a custom order I finished last week.

I had a bee in my bonnet for quite awhile, wanting to put Princess Pashmina on a paisley base (she's an Indian elephant, after all).  My very sweet customer agreed to let me try this experiment, and I, for one, and very pleased with how it turned out.  Except that I am the world's slowest embroiderer, because I have to keep redoing things if they're not exactly-precisely the way I think they should look, and this took forever.  Some days, honestly, I have to slap my own hand.

Okay, now it's back to work--I've got new felt to dig into!

A-Patterning We Go

Several months ago I was contacted by Sarah, from the Australian company Quilt Fabric Delights, wondering if I would be interested in writing a pincushion pattern for them.  Moi?!  Who was daydreaming about just such an opportunity, and now was having it dropped right in her lap?  Wow.

This project has been a wonderful opportunity for me, because it allowed me to write my first pattern while having someone experienced like Sarah give me feedback. Make that someone experienced and incredibly patient like Sarah.  

Now I'm totally geeked, because my pattern is about to become reality.  In September, as the first installment of Quilt Fabric Delights' "pincushion of the month club", a kit to make 2 Squirrel Momma pincushions will be available.  The kit will come with a pattern, wool felt, embroidery floss, and a strawberry pin topper designed by the incredibly talented Gigi Minor--be sure and check out her etsy shop here.

All I can say is I'm dancin' in my squirrel pants.  On second thought, that probably sounds a little odd.  Hows about I'm really, really happy.  (And dancing.)

Bragging and Digestible Foods

Yesterday Squirrel Girl ran her second 5k ever. She loves to run, and competes with her school's cross country and track teams, but only did her first "regular" race a couple of months ago.  At this weekend's race the men and women ran together, which meant my 13 year old, not much over 5 foot daughter was at the starting line with nearly 1500 people.

Bless her father, who has run plenty of these things in the past.  He made sure she was near the front of the pack for the start.  Which of course meant that when she ran by us after the first 500 feet she was surrounded by men who were a foot taller than she was, had a least 10 years more running experience, and looked intent on trampling anybody they needed to to get to the finish line (okay, maybe I just imagined that last part, overprotective mother that I am).

So, you ask, how did she do?

Oh, I don't want to brag.

No, really.

Well.  If you insist.  First in her age division.  13th in the field of 730 women.  But I don't want to brag.

Okay, now that I've got that out of my system (and thank you for putting up with me), I'll show you the magazine that I picked up at the Allegan Antique Market today.

Yup, that's Ladies Home Journal from May, 1943.  Not only does it have such helpful articles as "Child-Training Rules and Temper Tantrums" (haven't read it yet--theirs or mine?)  and "College on $300 a Year" (really must read that one), but it also has loads of informative advertisements.

Boy, do I need that!  Quick meals that are digestible.  Because on those nights when we have back-to-back sports practices I have been forced to feed my family undigestible meals, like salads made from shredded fabric scraps.  But no more!  Because, and I quote, "Foods fried in Crisco are so digestible even children may eat them!"  Whew.  Problem solved.