A few hours and a couple of sore hands later and I have some pretty jewelry. I guess my hands aren’t too terribly sore, because I’m still able to use them to pat myself on the back.

Does anyone know what that kind of chain is called? I don’t, I thought it was called rosary style, but I’ve heard people refer to y-shaped necklaces as rosary style both with and without the beads.

I would really like to know how to describe these things. It feels strange to be able to make something but not know what to call it.

I’m running out of eye-pins.

I think if I were to reknit this I’d add at least 3 more inches in length. Maybe just a squidge more.

The finishing was super easy, I snipped a small hole in the top to let the lid button through, and sliced holes to let through the spout and handle.

I’m going to mount googly eyes on it and make it my friend.

Honest.

The yarn is my handspun merino-bamboo blend “Fire Opal” hand-painted by the talented Moonlightbaker.

The blogging plan went awry though. I couldn’t sleep, my brains felt like they were going to explode and there’s nothing more soothing to painful brains than a knitting project that doesn’t require too much deep thought.

Like making a pair of undies for Lexi’s baby in a gender neutral acrylic yarn. No embiggening needed for this picture, I think this is about all the hideousness of acrylic, crochet and mustard yellow that one can take (even from a distance) without having some kind of allergic reaction.

There are plans in the works to make baby a durable and moderately less horrible wardrobe of booties, shirts, gowns, and hats. Is there a particular reason that doll clothes never seem to stay with a doll once it is in a little girls possession?

Please note, I would never do this to a real human child. This is plastic child, so plastic yarn is perfectly appropriate.

My friend Opal sent me some delicious handpainted fiber in a care package which enabled my latest knitting project.

Can you tell what it is?

It’s a spiralling scarf. Constructed like a flat doily, the only difference is that I didn’t stop making sections when it reached a circle, I just kept knitting the segments until I ran out of yarn.

The last bit of embellishment needs to wait but the plan is to put beads and coins on the outer segment corners.

Oh, and the heels are very very pointy.

I still have no clue as to why I bought that yarn in the first place. None.

At least they went quickly enough.

Ojami (Japanese juggling bags)

I love otedama, don’t ask me to do it, I’m just an admirer. I am about as coordinated as a drunken moose. But I can make the ojami just fine which does take a little coordination, but at least when it comes to avoiding needle pricks and sewing my own thumbs into the bag I can manage.

This is such a good craft for using up strips of scrap fabric. Each one is made of 4 pieces. For a western sized juggling bag, about 1.5 by 3 inches stitched with a scant 3/8 seam, and for otedama sized bags just slightly larger (the proportions should be length= width*2) about 2.75 inches wide to 5.5 inches long with a scant 3/8th inch seam.

Arrange the strips into a pin wheel, then sew the face of 4 strips so that they meet. Then sew the each strip down and around the corners (this is easier done than described) leaving one side of the opposite face open to fill with azuki beans, but not stuffing the beans, and then blind stitching the final seam closed. Otedama is played like jacks (at first) so too many beans makes it harder to manipulate the ojami.

Mine are made with batik dyed linen scraps (I didn’t sew the texture, the fabric came like that) left over from a fish shaped pillow that I made for a friend many years ago. The texture equaled fish scales to me, unfortunately it was one of those projects that worked much better in concept than execution but at least I had the gorgeous scraps to play with on a slow rainy Oregon day.

Which means I can show you this little bag that I was rambling on about last night.

I added the crochet top and yarn handles this morning (the fabric inside had to be stuffed in there otherwise it would have looked like yarn and a weird reflection in the pic.)

Lexi immediately said “Oh my new bag.” and made off with it. (She does this quite a bit with things that I make, that means she approves of the item and I have no hope of ever having it returned to me. Fortunately, Josey brought it back just long enough for me to take a photo.)

Thinking I was really clever I measured, sewed and cut the button holes. Assembled said buttons from coordinating scraps and fixed them to the front of the frock.

Lexi seemed to have forgotten all about the coveted frog buttons and wore the frock around the house, happily twirling and twisting the long hemmed skirt of it, testing it for tricycle safety and showing it off to her brother and father.

Then my husband informed me that she’d taken off the dress and left it in my sewing area. Now there’s only one reason anyone leaves anything in the sewing area and thats for mending.

I picked up the dress wondering if one of the seams had given way, or if indeed the hemline was not exactly tricycle proofed.

No.

It’s missing a button.

“Lexi, what happened to the button?”

“I cut it off.”

“Why?”

“It was wet.”

“How did it get wet?”

“There was spit on it.”

“How did it get spit on it?”

“I spit on it.”

“You spit on it and cut it off your dress?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to fix it.”

“Oh, you need a button!” Lexi produces the card of frog buttons.

Now at this point I have to give her credit for being persistent if nothing else and for planning ahead to create some kind of (demented as it may be) cover story. I could have asked her why she spit on the button in the first place, but I figure that’s probably self evident as she seems to hate all buttons excluding the frog buttons.

Just because it sits there and stares at me.

Wearing the sweater I knit for it.

Staring.

Watching.

Waiting.