Wing of bat

Today, my son asked if he could make a Vampire costume.  I said no.  The he asked if he could make a Vampire Bat costume, which was deemed acceptable.  So, he made himself a mask, but he wanted wings, too.

This is how you make Vampire Bat wings:

First, google Vampire Bats, to find out where the wings need to be attached.  Then take the wing, er, ARM-span measurement of the wingless bat in question, and also measure him from shoulder to knee.

Lay out a large piece of brown fabric, and fold.  Use tailor's chalk to trace a batwing shape, using the previously acquired measurements:

Scold the cat for leaping onto your fabric just as the camera snapped, and try again:

The lines aren't very dark; I hope you can see them.  Anyway, cut along the lines, and then attach ties to connect the wings to the body in all appropriate locations:

I put two at the shoulders, two at the waist, two at the knees, and two at the wrists.  I just cut strips of fabric, and zig-zagged them in the right spot.  This was a very quick and dirty project.  Tomorrow, I'm going to zig-zag around the edges of the wings, just to keep it from fraying.

Last step:  Revel in the awesomeness of being someone who can whip up a pair of bat wings on request.

Yesterday was not a good day, in the mothering department.  My children were ill-behaved, and I was Not Very Nice.  I told my son today, as I sewed the ties on these, that when he's all grown up and remembering that his mother yelled at him when he was little, I hope he will also remember that I sewed him bat wings.

For those who utter the words "Too Much Yarn"...

I have the perfect way to put it in perspective:  What if I bought tractors the way I buy yarn??

Slow and Steady

I am a one-project Knitter.  At least, I always thought I was before this past Saturday, when my dear husband sent me off to Sock Club at my LYS to unwind for a while.  (I asked if my being so stressed out was bothering him, and he said no, but he felt a bit responsible.  I decided not to take advantage of that, which I think shows a great deal of self-restraint.)

I drove over to the shop, meaning to buy this month's yarn (pattern included with purchase) when I got there...only to realize I had forgotten my dpns.  I could have just bought another pair, but I have, like, five sets of size 1s already, and really didn't think I needed more.  (Besides which, my favourites happen to be Boyes - probably the only time in my life when I really prefer the less-expensive option - and my LYS doesn't carry them)  (Actually, probably the issue is that I've never gotten my hands on the REALLY expensive ones yet, and my psyche is holding out for the best.  Just wait.)

Where was I?  Oh yes, dpns.  So, I ran home to get them - about a five minute drive.  And I spent 20 minutes tearing apart every place in my house that might contain my bag of dpns.  Along the way, I realized that...wait for it...I have a lot of yarn.  And I seriously thought about just staying home and knitting up something I already had.  Don't worry though, in the remaining 15 minutes of my search, I had plenty of time to rationalize come to my senses regarding the Sock Club yarn.

It's really entertainment after all, not just a pair of socks.


Maybe it's not surprising that I started off as a one-project Knitter, because I started out as a Spinner.  (Came in through the back door, if you will.)  See the wheel?

The needles weren't in that bin.  (The bin and the box under it are fleeces; I knew they wouldn't be there.)

Incidentally, just to share because I love it, this is my Great Wheel:

It was a gift from my husband's grandmother, and doesn't fit anywhere else in my house.  I tried several other locations, and finally decided this was the only way to store it and keep it safe from all the aspiring engineers in the house. 

I searched my bedroom, and found one leg-warmer nearly finished in the night stand.  I searched my craft room and found all my straights in vases, plus a turtle project whose shell is nearly finished (started three Christmases ago).

I went down in the basement and dug through my yarn bins down there.  I didn't unearth my dpns, but I did find a sock I'd knit about two inches of before putting it in time-out...also about three years ago.  (That was when I was pregnant with my third.  I wonder if there's a connection?)  No, I'm not showing you photos of the basement.  Nor of the rest of the yarn stash.  Maybe later.

So, I headed back to the living room, and dug through my purse:

Oh look, it's another sock.  (That's the Jelly Bean socks, which were going to be for my sister, for Christmas, before the Scarf of Doom took over my existence.  Fortunately, I remembered I had already bought her a book.  She gets these for her birthday.)

Didn't want to pull the needles out.  The only other knitting item in evidence was the slippers I started for my husband on Christmas Day:

Which also did not contain my spare needles.  I did eventually find them, in a box in the craft room containing sewing supplies for the needle cases I was designing before Christmas (which is sort of logical, if you think about it.  At least, it was the last place I used them).

But the point is, my whole house is being taken over by knitting.  Projects are coming out of the woodwork, and I've suddenly realized...I don't really mind.

It seems like that should scare me, but I think I'm too far gone.

These are the newest project:

Lake Effect Socks in Dream in Color - Smooshy.  I think the colorway is Candy Floss.  Looks like winter, which is where I'm at. 

Fiber Artist's Child

I normally save funny stories about my children for my other blog, but this one pertains directly to the subject at hand, so you will have to suffer:

My son was dressing up with colored pencils taped to body parts at a friend's house the other day.  First he taped a pair to his knees, then a pair to his wrists, then a pair to his elbows.  He was a Super Hero, we were told.

Then he came back out looking like this:

Was he the Statue of Liberty, I wanted to know?  "No, Mama," he told me, very tolerantly, "I'm a Jacob Sheep!"  Obviously.

Yes, I think my six-year-old is probably the smartest one in the world.

Addendum to the Nubbly Scarf saga

So, my brother called me up on his birthday (Jan. 3rd) to tell me he'd just gotten his scarf, he'd been wearing it all day, and he absolutely loved it.  (I will knit for him again.)  Then he said "35 hours, huh?  I had no idea.  I mean, I thought a scarf was a 30 to 90 minute proposition."

Once I stopped laughing, he continued.  "You realize that makes this scarf worth at least...$300.  Right?"  I'm so glad he realizes that my time is worth something!  (I will still knit for him.)

He went on.  "I really had no idea it would take so long.  I mean, people knit scarves all the time.  No one would ever pay what this scarf is worth for a scarf.  Are knitters all people who can't do math?"  (I may have had some issues with math, while I was in school.  I may not knit for him again.)