Spiders, How I Hate Thee.

So here's the dealio. I don't care much for spiders. If they're outside I leave them be so long as they don't stray near me or suprise me in anyway. If they do decide to take up residence or pop up in any unsuspected way they get a quick whack, stomp or whatever way my panicked self can think of to kill them quickly.

As it is, this time of year means I'm constantly finding the little buggers (heh heh, get it? Little buggers? Okay, not funny. As you were) I keep finding them everywhere. In the garden I try to let them be as I know they play an important part in my whole organic gardening scheme. If I squish them I'm not going to harvest much bounty because the pest will get to it first. I just wish they wouldn't get quites so big while doing their job. Elbow length gloves come in handy to avoid contact, but they leave me with quite an odd tan line so it's one of those fun little win/lose situations.

I also keep finding them in the house. One in particular has taken up residence in my bedroom. Under my bed. How do I know this? Every night just as I'm about to retire for the evening he playfully runs across my pillow as I turn down the sheets and skitters behind the headboard. How do I know this spider is a he? I don't, but lets just pretend for the sake of my sanity that he is. I don't need the added stress of worrying about a Mother to be residing under my bed laying her eggs thankyouverymuch. He isn't a small spider by any means, which would make you think I'd be able to find him rather easily to squish him.

Alas, no.

After a half an hour or so of searching and finding nary a web nor even glimpsing one spindly little spider leg I will convince myself it's safe to go to bed.

On the couch.

Ha, okay I'm not that much of a wuss, I sleep in my bed like a big girl. I will admit that I position my pillow a tad, okay much lower, than my husbands. That way if Mr. Spider does decide to attack he will be more inclined to go after Nai first. I'll thank you kindly for not shattering my disillusions that spiders don't think rationally and that if they did, they'd be more inclined to go after the crazy lady who disturbs them every night and then hunts them and not the calm gentle man giant who stands there laughing at her.

Anywho... this brings me to last night. Do you know what I did last night?

I washed dishes.

Ha! You thought it was going to be something interesting didn't you? You were wrong. Neener neener! You should know by now my life is boring.

For what it's worth, I wash dishes by hand. I have a dishwasher. It comes in handy for storing my canning equipment in. I don't use it for actually washing dishes because for a family of this size I'd still have a full load left to wash after I loaded it up with as much as it can hold. In true hippie fashion I've decided it's a waste so it's used for storage instead. Yes, I know that's a little weird. I've come to terms with that.

Since I wash dishes by hand, I rarely dry them and put them away until the next time I go to wash some and I need the drain rack space. Sometimes I just pile the new ones on the old ones. I'm lazy like that.

Last night I ran a sink full of water and splashed an armful dishes in to soak while I put away the previous days dishes. Of course you know where this is going, don't you? As I picked up a glass that was upside down on the side of the rack a little friend ran out to greet me. He decided to greet me by giving me a heart attack, so I felt it was only fair to greet him in return by screaming and dropping the glass he was standing on.

I'm assuming this was insulting to poor Mr. Spider as he decided to jump mid fall and land squarely in the middle of my sink. Not the one full of soaking dishes. He's smarter than that and isn't going to make my life easier by accidentally drowning himself, he landed in the empty one I use for rinsing. I stared at him. He stared at me. My ten year old daughter who also happened to be in the kitchen as well divided her time by glancing back and forth between the two of us.

After a few seconds I realized he wasn't going to just disappear or curl up and die. I also couldn't finish dishes with him there since, you know... I was scared of him and all. Shuddup, I realize how silly that makes me sound. I inched to the right, he scampered to the left. I grabbed the spray nozzle. He made a jump for it just as I turned the water on full force. The stream hit him before he could clear the sink and knocked him back down. I kept at it, washing him down the drain.

Then I continued to spray water down the drain. I peered into the drain cautiously whle still spraying water down it. Overkill? I think not. My daughter tapped me on the arm, I jumped and just barely stopped myself from turning the nozzle on her. Hello! You don't startle someone who's already jumpy. It's not smart. Instead of soaking her, I continued letting the water stream into the sink instead. I did have enough sense to let it run out of the faucet instead of standing there holding the nozzle. How silly would that be?!I'm all about not looking silly if I can avoid it.

Finally I shut the water off and faced my daughter who asked me (in a slightly amused tone of voice, I think) "Have you ever read Charlotte's Web, Mom?" What a silly question, who hasn't read that book and so I looked at her and responded "Yeeeeaah... so?" I'm always this clever and witty after near death encounters with huge black spiders, just so you know. So Taylor takes my answer into consideration and asks me "It doesn't make you feel any empathy for them at all?" I look at her and reply "When did you learn the word empathy?"

Ha! No, just kidding. The kids pretty intelligent and probably has a larger vocabulary than I do. What I did say was this "I'm pretty sure the spider in that book wrote words in magical little webs. Then it died. This spider on the other hand has been outside our kitchen window for three days now until the storm drove it inside. All it did was eat bugs and leave a mess on the windowsill. Then it died".

She sighed, and rolled her eyes while shaking her head at me. She's going to make a great teenager someday. "Listen, Tay" I said "This one made webs too, but I've looked at them. Either the spider wasn't magical and couldn't form a letter let a lone a word to save his life, or he was drunk when he made his web and his words were illegible because of it" She cocked an eyebrow at me and asked "Did you just tell me you thought that spider got drunk? Regularly?!" My turn to roll MY eyes "Well duh, and like we need yet another alcoholic spider in this house. Good riddance, I say". She stared at me. I stared at her. She looked at me like I had lost my mind. I put my hands on my hips and stared back. Then I told her "Now, put away the rest of those dishes for me please, he might have kin lurking in there" and I walked out of the kitchen.

My poor children. They aren't even phased by my oddities anymore. They'll probably need therapy when they grow up. There was going to be a moral to this story. I forgot what it was supposed to be though. Spider's will do that to a person. The end.

Much Better Than Groceries

This morning I woke up and meandered out to the kitchen like I do most mornings. I started the coffee like I normally do, noticing that we were running low and I would need to buy some more. As the coffee perked I got down my mug and added a couple of teaspoons of sugar, noticing as I did that we were running low and I would need to buy some more. After the coffee had finally burbled to a stop I poured a mug full and added a splash of milk, noticing as I did that we were running low and I would need to buy some more.

I took my cuppa joe to the table and sat down with a puzzle magazine to work on while I woke up, noticing as I did that the magazine was nearly full and I would need to buy another. I sat quietly working on my puzzles and drinking my caffeine when about 15 minutes into my ritual I suddenly realized that Crap! I was going to have to go to the store today.

I groaned to myself, slumped down in my seat and buried my head in my arms. Then I dragged my sorry self out of the chair and made a list. It took me somewhere along the lines of 5 hours but I finally finished it and got everyone dressed, fed, ready to go and loaded into the car. As I was climbing into the driver's seat I noticed a package and a few envelopes had beat me there.

Aha! Our mail lady must have placed yesterday's mail in the car because it was raining when she delivered it. That explains why there wasn't any in the mailbox when I checked.

I didn't really care so much about the envelopes, they were full of the general mish-mash of junk that we receive everyday. It was the package that piqued my interest. It was my order from sugareggs.com

When I first saw the eggs on this site I swore I had died and gone to pretty, pastel sugar heaven. I don't think there actually is such a place, which makes it even more amazing that I died and went there. The eggs that the owner Ashley makes are absolutely gorgeous. Honestly they more resemble pretty works of art than candy confections.

Ashley, being the really sweet girl that she is was nice enough to squeeze my order in with her last batch and mail it out so my wee little stinker's could have these eggs for Easter. She's very detailed in finding out exactly what you're looking for so that she can create the perfect sugar egg for you. She has 3 sizes available and the larger the egg you decide on the more detail she can work into it.

I decided to order four of the smaller eggs, one for each child, rather than a single large one to share. Each egg arrived sealed in plastic and double packaged in bubble wrap. Then she nestled them in green basket grass. I loved the presentation but not nearly as much as I did the eggs.

Each one is stunning, even better than I imagined they would be. I'm half tempted not to let the children know that they are edible in hopes that the eggs will last longer. Of course I really want to try a nibble or two and I'm sure the kids would find it a little weird if they caught me snacking on their "plastic" eggs.

Ashley also makes the cutest pumpkins and jack o' lanterns for Autumn and takes orders all year round. Make sure you visit her site and take a glance around. Without further ado I'm going to post my eggs and let the pictures speak for themselves.

The Alarm Clock: A Short Story by Me

There was once a little alarm clock that belonged to a person named Me (also known as Myself and I). It was a rather non-descript little clock. Black in colour with a red digital face. It had some knobs here and a few buttons there with a couple of cords running out the back.

This little alarm clock wasn't like the other little alarm clocks. Unlike most it's alarm did not go "Beeeep!... Beeeep!... Beeeep!..."

Nor did it play music from your favorite station in an attempt to rouse you.

No, it wasn't a fancy one that chimed in a meditative way or said "It is now 5:30 a.m. and it's time to wake up" in a soothing voice.

In fact, this little alarm clock makes absolutely no noise at all. Not that it couldn't, because it most assuredly could. You could set this alarm to be as quiet as fairies laughing in a garden or as loud as a jet plane landing on your roof.

It just seems a shame to make the poor little thing work so hard at making noise when I (also known as Me and Myself) am deaf and thus cannot hear it.

So how does it work, you might be wondering to yourself. Just how does it a wake a person up?

I will tell you.

The little alarm clock has a wee tiny outlet in the back that is perfect for plugging a lamp into. It also has a pad connected to it by a cord that fits neatly underneath your mattress.

When the little alarm clock goes off in the morning the lamp starts flashing. On and off... On and off... On and off... The pad starts vibrating Buzz... Buzz... Buzz... The little alarm clock is good at it's job. The lamp holds a bulb bright enough to rival the sun and the pad shakes so violently that it registers as a 4.9 on the Richter scale.

Obviously these things seperately let alone combined would jolt even the deepest of sleepers from slumber with such intensity that they would have no need of coffee in the morning. Just a shower and fresh underwear from having pizzled themselves in startlement.

Unfortunately I (also known as Me and Myself) am not phased by these things in the least. Without even leaving REM sleep I (also know as Myself and Me) will simply reach over and punch the off button or possibly knock the clock from the nightstand depending on bad my aim is. The effect is the same either way, the flashing and shaking stop less than 2 seconds after they began and I (also known as Me and Myself) continue with a happy visit in the land of Nod.

Of course I (aka... yeah, you get it already. Gotcha.) still need to wake up so how do you suppose that happens? My poor husband is left with the task. Unfortunately he is a mere mortal and not up to said task. Seriously now people, if something that is the equivalent of a Natural Disaster is happening in my bedroom and that doesn't wake me, it's just plain silly to think he could.

Finally I've found a solution. It actually works, as I've been utilizing it for a couple of months now with great success. It's a plan so simple and so obvious that I almost smacked myself for not thinking of it before. I didn't smack myself though, because I don't like to be hit and it would have ticked me off. Which would have resulted in me getting mouthy and picking a fight with myself. I'm not one to just back down from fight when it involves a cause I believe in so passionately (me not getting hit, remember?) so of course after words were exchanged blows would be next. It just doesn't end good so it's best not to start it in the first place no matter how entertaining it could be or how bored I am to have just written all that.

Back to my solution with the alarm clock.

I used to keep it on top of the nightstand by my bed. Within reach and easily accessible and that my friends is where the problem lies. Or actually laid. Lewd? Whatever.

Now I simply hide the clock every night after I set the alarm. I don't hide it in the same place either. Sometimes I'll place it underneath the bed, right in the very middle of the floor and surround it with the little rolling totes of seasonal clothes I store there. Another night it might go under my dresser, or in the draw on the front of my nightstand. Anywhere other than where it was the night before so it keeps me from getting into a routine and turning it off in my sleep again.

Would you like to know how well my little plan works? Of course you don't, but I'm going to tell you anyways.

Picture me if you will, sound asleep and snoring softly like a freight train (according to my husband) with just a tiny drop of drool the size of Lake Michigan on my pillow.

After gazing at this peaceful scene for a minute imagine the room is suddenly filled with the fiery flashing light of a Super Nova while the bed begins to shake and roll across the floor with no forethought destination other than to escape and quickly at that.

Now see an arm snake out from under the covers and smack at the nightstand in an almost lazy fashion. Watch as it continues to smack. And smack... and then suddenly I'm sitting up in bed and staring groggily at the spot on the table where my clock should be. Is it there *flash/SHAKE!* I don't see it *flash/SHAKE!* Is that it? *flash/SHAKE!* I stretch my hand way out and reach over to hit what turns out to be my glasses, knocking them off the table and falling out of bed after them in a tumble of blankets and pillows.

Still more asleep than awake I recall that I left the clock under the bed the night before. Eyes still mostly closed (because it would be stupid to open them and inflict them to punishing glare of my lamp this early in the morning, flashing or otherwise). I start crawling on my hands and knees towards the bed. It's slow going what with all the blankets wrapped around my legs but finally I bump into something solid and large.

Breathing a sigh of relief I try to force my eyes open enough to peer underneath the furniture. Failing at that and just barely missing being hit in the head with a photo that has worked loose from the wall due to all the shaking I decide to just grope around for the clock instead.

Frantically my fingers search but they find only air. I lay flat against the floor and stretch out, reaching as far as I can... There! I grab the clock and yank it towards me and OH MERCIFUL HEAVENS WHAT IS THAT SMELL??!!!

That's when I realize I'm not reaching under the bed but Nai's dresser. I'm clutching not the clock but one of his dirty socks that has been under there for God only knows how long. This much is for certain, when I squealed in shock at what was in my hand the sock squealed right back.

Tossing the sock aside I reach out in the opposite direction instead. Finally starting to wake up I'm happy to note that this is definitely the bed. These are the totes of clothes. The clock should be just behind them. I shove them to the side and reach for it eagerly anticipating the peace that is sure to come any second now.

It's not there. It has to be there. It isn't though. I start yanking totes out left and right in a desperate search for it. Finally after the last tote is out of my way I shove my head half under the bed to locate the clock. *flash* I only see *flash* dust bunnies *flash* Oh what kind of Hell is this that I've awakened to anyway?!!

Fully awake at this point I lean over wearily and yank the cord from the outlet thus unplugging the whole mess and stopping the destruction. Apparently I am NOT fully awake though, because it takes me at least 3 seconds to realize that everything is still flashing and shaking and that the bed is still bouncing against the door frame in it's flight towards safety.

Ooops. It would appear that I unplugged Nai's alarm clock rather than mine by mistake. I yank out the second cord and finally, FINALLY peace descends. I sit quietly for a moment savoring the stillness before making my way out to the kitchen.

Nai is sitting quietly drinking a cup of coffee.

"Problems Sweetie?" he asks me.

I yawn and reply "I can't find my alarm clock, it isn't under the bed where I put it".

Nai raises an eyebrow in amusement and says "I thought you hid your clock in the nightstand drawer last night?"

I'd like to introduce you to...

Sky, the oldest. The mother hen and attitude ridden tweenager. The one who is the most like myself in every way.

Skylar woke up earlier than everyone else in the house one day this weekend. Knowing that Nai and I would also be waking shortly she sweetly decided to brew a pot of coffee and have it waiting for us.

As quietly as she could she filled the pot with water and poured it into the coffee maker. Then she dug into the cupboard to locate the filters and ground coffee.

Once she figured out how to put the filter in she proceeded to add a few scoops of coffee. Then she added a few more scoops. Not quite sure it would be enough she added just a little bit more coffee until it was almost level with the top of the filter and then started it brewing.

Have you ever tasted coffee made with enough grounds to brew five pots? It most definitely adds a jolt to your morning, that's for sure.

Nai, drank a good portion of it, liberally watered down of course. Being the bad mother that I am I stuck with tea.

Now we have Taylor. The true girly girl and little homemaker of the bunch. She's so anxious to learn everything there is to know. Every five minutes she's asking you why, or how, or what?

Last week it hit the negative double digits in these parts (not in that picture though, it's from December). Knowing that Tay has a tendency to feel cold I advised her the night before to lay out clothes for the next day that she could layer for warmth. Tay thanked me and went off to put together the perfect, most comfortable outfit to wear to school.

Fast forward to the next morning when I'm chiding Taylor to hurry up and get dressed or she won't have time for breakfast before the bus arrives. She ran hurrying into the kitchen apologetically explaining that she had trouble getting her pants pulled up and buttoned all the way. It was almost impossible to get dressed, she explained.

Not fully awake myself I stopped and gave my daughter a good once over and noticed she was a tad *puffier* than normal. It prompted me to ask her to raise the legs of her jeans so I could see what she had layered underneath.

She complied and I glimpsed more denim underneath.

Highly amused I asked her "Tatie, are you wearing two pairs of jeans?!"

"No Mom" Taylor responded with the utmost look of innocence on her face "I have on three pairs of jeans, why?"

I could barely contain the peals of laughter long enough to recommend she take off two pairs of jeans and swap them with a pair of tights instead. I didn't have the strength to hold the laughter in long enough to say she probably wouldn't really need to wear four shirts all at once either.

This is Jon. The only male child surrounded by a house full of Sisters. Terribly independent and full of bravado he feels the need to act as if he's years older than he is. Except at bedtime when he needs Mom to stay in the room with him until he falls asleep. My little manly man is a just a bit afraid of the dark.

Jonathan is fully potty trained, which is a good thing seeing as how he's three going on four. The thing is, Mom was the one who did most of the training. She didn't want to try and explain to such a little guy about standing to go wee so she trained him to sit on the potty when he needed to go instead.

This has worked quite well for some time until recently when she noticed he seemed to missing his mark and making a mess. Odd, she couldn't fathom why he would suddenly be having problems with this when he never had before.

A couple of days ago Mom was folding and putting away laundry when Jon rushed past her exclaiming "I gotta go, I GOTTA Go!!!"

Mom laughed to herself and finished folding the last two items in her basket. She gathered everything up to put it away when she decided to glance into the restroom to make sure Jon had made it the toilet alright.

What she saw was her son standing in front of the toilet with his pants down, hands on his hips, smiling at the ceiling while going potty.

Of course in this pose he was completely missing the inside of the bowl he should have been aiming for.

This is where Mom messed up. In shock she gasped out "Jonathan!!!"

He of course turned towards her in surprise. Hands still on his hips. Still going wee.

It wasn't at all amusing to Mom as she cleaned the floor afterwards. Dad seemed to find it hilarious though.

Last of all is little Anna-Marie. The baby. The snuggler. The all around cutie pie who has all five members of the family wrapped around her little finger.

She's a doll. A joy to be around. There's only one thing that could be considered a character flaw, and even then it's such an adorable little flaw that it's more amusing than annoying.

The little imp is a shoe thief. Leave your shoes out where she can get to them and she will claim them for her own.

She doesn't care how big or how small they are. She's put both feet into one of her Daddy's boots and then tried to hop across the floor in it.

She received a doll for Christmas that she pleaded to have opened right away before she opened any other presents. The second the doll was out of the box and handed to her she pulled it's shoes off and threw it on the ground. She then proceeded to put one doll shoe on the end of each of her toes and smile triumphantly around the room at everyone, completely enamored with her skill. In the picture above is she wearing her shoes? Of course not, she has on Taylor's boots and would not give them back until Tay gave her Sky's house slippers in exchange.

I love them all so much I nearly burst with the feeling I have for them. For all the mischief they cause there are the little things like this that happen numerous times each day. How mad can you get at them, when you're so busy laughing at the silliness of it all?

Yarny Love... as opposed to Corny Love

Okily Dokily, so as I mentioned earlier I have a new spindle. I bought it with the hopes of being able to turn fluffy cloud like sheep-ish-nish into devine yarn.

That didn't exactly happen. I did have the sheep-ish-nish, and I did turn it into something. While that something does vaguely resemble yarn it isn't exactly what I'd call devine. I had fun though and think I'm hooked so it works out okay in the end.

I will say this, it's nearly impossible to spin with young children hanging about. Maybe just my young children? Your young children might be okay to have around while spinning. I'd offer to trade for a week so I could do a comparision but I'm much too nice to subject anyone to thier doofus little selves for that long.

I will say this though, hiding a handful of chocolate kisses around the room and then encouraging the kidlets to "Go find them and you can eat them!" will buy you just a little time to yourself.

That brings to me another little tidbit I've learned. Children can find a handful of scattered and hidden chocolate in under 6 minutes. Doesn't matter where you hide them, they'll find them. On the other hand if you're running late for an appointment and you ask them to get their shoes out of the closet where they are supposed to be kept, they will come back 20 minutes later without a clue as to where the shoes could be. You will end up on your hands and knees looking in the closet for ten minutes trying to find the shoes yourself to no avail.

Even though the little darlings have no fewer than five pairs of shoes they will all be missing a mate except for the pair of dress shoes covered in mud that they wore to wade in the creek at Grandma's house last weekend.

So... muddy crusty dress shoes or an odd combination of one rain boot and one sandal? I usually choose the latter, after all if I let them wear the muddy ones they'll just track that all over the house giving me more work to do.

But I digress, back to my tale of the spindle. I absolutely love it. Definitely not the easiest thing to work with but ever so fun to do and it also leaves you (or me, at least) with this bursting sense of accomplishment. I mean, I've crochet oodles of things. Now I'm going to be able to crochet oodles of things with yarn like stuff that I've made with own two hands. And both my knees. And my foot. And the crick between my shoulder and neck... it's a full body workout. It's not supposed to be, but I'm really not very good at spinning yet.

I bought my spindle and first batch of roving from Paradise Fibers. You can find them here. The spindle and the roving were a nice low price and they ship fast. I've since purchased more roving from Sheep Shed Studio which you can find here. They sell mill ends for $7.50 a pound (I know! Awesome!) and if you check on Craftster you'll hear nothing but goods things about the shop and the owners Carol and Carl.

Finally here are some pictures of my progress from white roving to the fugtastical purple scarf thing I hand dyed with kool-aid and crocheted to match Beanie's elf hat.

Bad Habits Die Hard

The Setting: A cold Winter evening a few years back, in a junky old car pulling out of the drive-through at your typical burger joint.

The Cast: My friend and I

My friend "What are you doing?"

I "... eating fries"

My friend "With your gloves on?"

I "My hands are cold"

My friend "Doesn't that make your gloves all nasty and greasy?"

I "They can be washed"

My friend "Okay, but doesn't it get fuzzies all over your food?"

I, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing "I don't taste any more fuzziness than usual"

My friend "Eww... I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

I "You know you love me."

My friend "Yes,but why I love you is beyond me."

Ha! Why am I typing a conversation from years back? Probably because tonight I picked up dinner for our little family at another typical burger joint drive through. It was cold. I had on gloves. I finished the fries before even getting the food home and no, I did not take my gloves off to eat them. (((Andrea))) I'm thinking of you tonight, sweetie.

Did I tell you my husband has been replaced by aliens? I'm okay with this. Three times this week I have woken up to a cup of coffee on my desk made just the way I like it, for no reason at all.

One day I also woke up to a back rub for no reason at all.

The other day as I cleaned, while dancing around the playroom listening to the Oldies station full blast on the radio, Nai swept me into his arms as he wandered past and danced through the room with me for no reason at all.

Yesterday I kept catching my husband watching me and smiling to himself. I questioned him about it "What?! Are you laughing at me because my hair is braided into pigtails? You think I'm goofy looking?"

He tugged a braid, smiled and replied "No, not goofy looking. I think you look really cute with your hair like that."

So yes, he's been abducted by aliens and replaced with this. I'm not going to question it. I'm just going to be happy that after a few years of marriage he still gets a goofy grin on his face at the silly things I do, the same as he did when we were dating. Heaven knows he still makes my heart skip a beat, alien or not.

Wee Tiny Elf Hats

I made not one, but two little elf hats this weekend. It was part out of a desire to make crocheted elf hats and part necessity. You see a few months ago I received the cutest green fleece elven hat sewn by an awesome lady named Rose. You can find her items Here if you're interested.

The hat is sized for an adult because I wanted it for me, and when I happily showed it to my lovely children I made sure they knew that THIS was MY hat. Mine. Not theirs.

They all nodded their heads solemnly and assured me that they understood. Two seconds later they were fighting over who would get to wear it first.

Hello! It's mine! I get to wear it first.

Finally it was somehow decided that we would just take turns wearing MY hat. It works well. I get to wear it while they sleep at night and for the most part Anna-Marie wears it the rest of the time. She'll put up quite a fight if one of the other children tries to take it from her.

The only real problem is that it's a bit too big for little Anna and she can't see while wearing it. This doesn't deter her in the least. It certainly doesn't keep her from wearing the hat nor does it keep her from walking while it's on her head. All it does is cause her to walk into walls with a greater frequency than any other child in the known Universe.

She's okay with this.

I, on the other hand am not.

I worry she might knock herself senseless or even worse *gasp* mess up my hat in some way.

That's why when I came across This Free Pattern on the Lion Brand Yarn website I knew that I had to make a little Anna sized elf hat. Lion Brand doesn't refer to it as an elf hat, of course. They use the dorkalicious title of "Earflap Hat" but that's only because the pattern naming people stink at their job. Good thing I'm around to rename things on a whim.

Not only was Anna thrilled with her new hat but as should be expected so were the other three children. So much so that they looked around expectantly trying to find their crocheted elf hats.

They had quite a time finding them too, seeing as how they didn't exist.

Of course being the pushover loving and doting mother that I am, I agreed to make the rest of them a hat and I now only have two left to finish. Then finally I'll be able to wear MY green elf hat without having to chase a little person through the house and tackling them or challenging somebody to a thumb wrestling match for dibs on it.

As you probably can't tell in the pictures, Annie really truly adores her hat and wears it all day long. Unfortunately Anna moves at the same rate per second as a hummingbird which you probably know only slows down long enough to gather nectar before zooming off again.

Hence the non-smiling slightly odd look on my child's face. In order to get her hummingbird wannabe self to sit still for a photo I had her father bribe her with the chocolate that her mouth is full of in the photos.

In other news my baby bro who I absolutely want to be like one day when I grow up will be celebrating his wedding anniversary in a few months. I love this picture from his wedding and really want to draw it for him and my sister-in-law Carrie. I'm thinking of working it in both charcoal and colored pencils although I might go with pastels too.

Aren't they just the cutest couple?

All I have to do first is finish these other fifty trillion projects I've got started. It doesn't help that I ordered and just received yesterday a Navajo Spindle so that I can spin my own yarn. I've already spun a small ball of the world's slubbiest and uneven yarn ever, but that's a post for a different day.