birthday crown

I use the Heidi & Finn template each year.  Last time I made a crown, it was with a sweet horse, and this year, Maya requested an "ogre-fairy" theme, which meant I molded the saddest little ogre-fairy fondant figure.  It reminded me so much of elementary school art classes, and I had a new appreciation for Duff and his team.  I'd rather mold from fiber, but I'm willing to stretch out a little, so she can know it's OK to do something that looks a little wonky for someone you love.

But here, a little creature ready to take wing.

cora in progress

I have so many things I could say about what I'll do with the next doll, things to make her stronger and fit into a more sensible vision of how I'd like a doll to turn out, but I could also say how many things that please me:  I was so shocked at how sweet her nose worked out, how redoing her eyes was worth it, and her little Mona Lisa smile. 

I had bought this funky yarn a year ago, meaning to start making then, but it didn't quite work out, and the yarn!  It's so touchable!  I kept a lock of it to remind me of my first girl. 

Oh, and I suppose I don't quite mean my first girl right up there--the blondie who wanted her photograph taken in Grandma's bed.  We spent the holidays there, with cousins and everyone tucked into the corners, and they observed my yankings and tweakings and redoings.  We lined up my own doll with my children's first dolls:  the first, the green-haired guy, is a Sami Doll, and the blondie with braids is a Q'awer Project doll.  (I've learned, for the collector, these things matter.)  (But for my kids, not a bit.)

So clearly one of the first issues with poor Cora, whose name came to me as I plucked away at her features, is that her hair is out of control.  So I had to do some weeding and readjusting:  I've learned that crocheting a wig cap out of this yarn is a trick, and evening out the hair is another adventure.  My hope is that the recipient will prop her up on some shelf and leave her hair as is, as underneath all the very neat placement are some surprising bald patches (or wig-patches).  The next doll won't have this trouble.  You should see me now--with every handmade or yarn-haired doll that crosses my path, I'm digging at the scalp as if checking for nits, trying to see how each maker evens it all out.

You can see this hair thing is really lingering for me.  Not only do I love her locks, but they trouble me so!  For now, Cora is wearing a borrowed dress from my daughter's stash; soon I'll sew up some goodness of her very own.

from grades to skeins

Tucked beneath the wispy bits of pattern and wound wool is my makeshift grading book.  I promised myself I could do two things once my grades were turned in:  I could read a thick escape book (Outlander) and I could finally, finally start my first doll.

Grades are in, and not without my daughter drawing those little octopus faces she's becoming famous for all over.  And here is the beginnings of something I hope will grow.  I have a little crush on her and though I have a recipient in mind, I might have to keep her, just to have physical evidence ready of progress and first loves.  She has pins for eyes and a mouth, reminders where her own face might emerge.  It's a steep learning curve for me:  I'm learning the ladder stitch, and I haven't embroidered on soft sculpture before, aside from the tiny Waldorf style doll beside her.

I'm not sure how long it takes before I will feel comfortable enough to make these dolls for people I do not know--when they will stop being gifts and will start being a part of my humble handmade business.  I have a list of people I'd like to make dolls for, and have begun sketching out ideas for motifs, but I'm trying to restrict myself as little as possible while I figure out what my place is in this fascinating world of toymaking.

tacking it up

I'm still messing around with these little apron tops.  I wanted to join the realm of dollmaking because I love the way it seems to connect to the puttering tendencies of mine, the futzing and adjusting.  My hands fumble a lot, and I look forward to when doing becomes smoother, though I think I'll always push myself to the verge of too hard.  Just hard enough.

 I'm working on grades for the composition courses I teach for a university and after that, I'm giving myself over to constructing my first doll.  My hands ache to roll wool, to try something just hard enough, but I have to behave, as one thing brings a paycheck and the other only has potential.

pixie hooded hat

I've knit up a quick hat, which my nearly-four-year-old has modeled.  It's 100% wool, super-cozy and completely adjustable, given the braided ties.  

It's currently available here in the shop!  I'm also happy to do a custom order--other sizes, colors, the like.

thanksgiving in michigan

My mother has been in end-stage kidney disease for quite some time, but she's been fighting it magnificently, through broken hip and recently, a fall causing a hairline fracture in her collarbone.  We never quite know when our last visit will be, though the tenor of this last one shifted, and I am grateful I was able to bring my two small children to see her ago.  My daughter's middle name is the same as my grandmother's first; I feel very close to her and am glad to honor her in this way.

Middle Sand Lake has been the subject of some of my poetry work, and I've often just sat on the bank, looking out.  I remember as a kind, hefting my grandpa's old binoculars up to my face, hoping to catch sight of a deer on the other side.  Going around in the pontoon boat, collecting shells.  The big willow that eventually was cut down.  Bringing my husband, our dog.  Bringing our children.

The context of the lake has changed so much.  But the constants are there:  glazed lake water, the dock with wobbles, ducks and swans and cardinals.  Each generation, a new interaction between land and lake and self.

a long time coming

I cast on for this shawl in the spring of 2007.  I was still teaching high school and my best friend had gotten married in April.  I asked if I could give her something blue, thinking making a lace shawl would be smooth enough, especially if I gave myself enough time; after all, I could whip up a crocheted scarf in an afternoon, why not a knit shawl in a few days?

Oh, how sadly, completely, startlingly wrong I was.  I'm far less naive, though I might imagine myself taking on something like this again in too short an amount of time.  It's a tendency of mine.

Now, I can prioritize knits.  I stay at home with the kids, I edit a poetry journal, I am fairly quiet.  But at the time, I was teaching high school, had just been budget cut from my first job, my own wedding was getting planned, and the musical I was co-directing was culminating.  It was a highly charged time for me.

So I made her a terrible crocheted thing that reminded me of a fishermen's net because it took me as long to cast on with the knit pattern I tried over and over again.  

And with the leftover yarn?  I gradually made this.  

It took so long because I've learned I have a strange swinging when it comes to making--sometimes I'll be intensely in a poetry groove and others, a fiber-ish groove.  

Perhaps this is why I like poems:  they are intense, small, fiddly creatures that require small edits and adjustments to make the largest of impacts.  I couldn't sustain the marathon of a novel.  Same, why I have more success making single pieces, little knit objects, the like.  I like fiddling.  

Mistakes, not so much, and this shawl is riddled with them, which is what happens any time you do something the first time and pick it up and drop it dozens of times over a number of years.

Fortunately, Kelly accepted this marriage gift with good humor, no matter she's been married over seven years now.