soft and squishy, fuzzy and cute

My new occupation is Stuffed Creature Creator. My sixth grade art project was not for them, it was for me. I wanted to make soft and fuzzy friends and created the sewing unit as a ruse so that I could make these creatures one hour a day for a couple weeks. I guess they did learn to thread needles, stitch in one direction and kind of neatly (that is questionable). They did design their own (so did I) and got better as they went along (who doesn't?). The real winner here is me. I love the Bad Guy ( I didn't make him up) and now I know that Cave Man Guy will be my new sock monkey. The head stitched onto the chest is just perfect for hunchback neolithic dudeness.

Bacon definitely needs some work, but the eggs are super cool. Many more of these protein fuzzies will be inhabiting the earth very soon. When is my day off?

The Sprite--everyone needs matching tiara and bracelet sets.

the camel

This is a photo from a slide show featuring a day at the MIA with my family. My father in law is often the driving force of these sorts of expeditions. He wanted to look at the Chinese rooms. He found these great horse and camel sculptures.

The great thing about these big guys is how they seem to watch the whole room and take in all of the folks as we walk by. Not terribly realistic, they still have an animation to them that makes you keep checking. It is as if he walked in and posed, kind of like big bird trying to blend in with the rest of the museum objects. This guy was watching Neal while none of the rest of us were. One step ahead and we have to rely on a clay camel to spy for us parents.

Now I want to use this image for something. Don't know what yet. Perhaps a stuffed something or other?

With Renewed Interest I return to the art fridge

Fresh from writing group night. I am revived and excited about writing and perhaps even posting that writing on this here blog. I've just created my family's blog, see Woodbut Scuttlebutt, and now think I may use this one again.

Here goes a poem from my Lost Trilogy (no not THAT Lost, the missing stuff kind)

Lost and Found

Basement conceals

The box

In the depths

Last resort

For searching the missing

Brown and ordinary

It stands amidst

An array of strewn

Belongings

No longer possessed

Discarded hats

dirty mitts

Shoes single

Lunch boxes

Half filled in Petri style.

Inside, the pile is deep

seeker be strong

To rifle and rummage

for digging and combing

Desiring precious treasure

Shorts and Socks

Jeans and hoodies

A pair of underwear

The dollar bill tempts me

To take it for my effort

The box denies

Empty handed,

Disappointed and exasperated

How hard to keep track of

one mitten.