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Hello lovelies! I just put together a tiny little survey thing. I'm trying to figure some stuff out (and I hope there will be a verrrrrry juicy blog post to come out of this). And of course there's a coupon code in it for you.

Click here and take the survey. You know you want to.

Thanks very much! I really appreciate it.

A quick peek inside the crafty life of...me, actually.

I've been working like a plush making machine over here, readying all new creatures for Craftland. (Hence the lack of new Chickenpants lately.) Here's a peek:

I shot the video with my new phone, so the formatting is a little weird. Anyway, there it is. Hopefully the next one will be bigger. (Er, if I even should do a next one. We'll see!)

Easy toy quilt tutorial

Okay, calling this thing a quilt is a stretch. Or possibly an insult to quilters everywhere. But! It does make a fantastic baby toy. I whipped this up in a hurry one day when I was in need of quiet baby toys. Olive's got a thing for scrunching up textiles. (hooray!) My goal with this was to make something with a variety of textures for her to enjoy.

Here's what you need:

• 3 - 4.5" x 12" (11.4 cm x 30.4 cm) pieces of cotton


• 1 - 12" x 12" (30.4 cm x 30.4 cm) piece of fabric for the back (I used a cheap, silky one...the better for scrunching.)


• 4 - 4" x 12" (10 cm x 30.4 cm) pieces of fleece (Please ignore the obviously 14" long pieces in the photo. I was going to try something else, which wound up not working. IGNORE!)

Step 1- Sew together the cotton
Placing the right sides together, sew the long sides of two pieces together.

Connect the third piece in the same way. You'll wind up with something like this:

Press the seams open in the back:


Step 2 - Assembly
Pin the back fabric to the front, wrong sides together. Lay one of the fleece pieces underneath at the top, and fold about half of it over like so:


Pin into place, and sew the bottom edge. Repeat this process with the opposite edge:

Place another piece of fleece on one of the open sides, making sure to overlap the already sewn on fleece. Pin, and sew as you did the last two. Add the final fleece piece in the same way. (Yes, I could have been typing "binding" all this time, but you have to admit "fleece piece" is much more enjoyable to say. Try it.)
Using a 1/2" seam allowance, sew around the outside edge of the quilt:

Trim the threads, and baby, you are done!

Notes:

• This is totally machine washable. And dryable. Unless you use some fancypants fabric that is not, alas, machine washable.


• I wish I had spent a little more time on this project, honestly. The tiny format would be perfect for trying out new patterns.

Clover Embroidery Hoop Review

***Let me start by saying that this review was totally done on my own dime. I was sponsored by no one. (However, if you'd like to have me review something, by all means email me!)***

Okay, the Clover Embroidery Hoop. I am a huge fan of all things Clover. Blame my Japanophile tendencies. I've been checking out the Clover embroidery hoop for awhile now, picking it up and putting it back. As far as embroidery hoops go, it's very spendy. The 4.75" one runs $10.99. Compare that to the average plastic hoop, which runs around $2.99 for the same size. (Bamboo ones run about $1.29)

I decided to compare the Clover against a typical plastic 6" embroidery hoop (Susan Bates), and a 5" Bamboo hoop.
[caption id="attachment_3324" align="aligncenter" width="676" caption="Hoops in action!"][/caption]
MOUNTING:
The Clover is a little easier to adjust. It has a larger lip on the inner hoop, which makes getting the fabric to stay in place easy. Instead of the typical screw and nut fastener, the Clover has a really nice screw and nut fastener cased in plastic. At least, I'm assuming that's what's in there. The little dial is very easy to turn, and adjustments are really smooth. But it takes a lot of little spins to open and close the hoop. Actually, it kind of takes forever.
The plastic hoop had a much smaller, almost nonexistent lip. The fabric slipped around quite a bit. The fastener can be flicked open really easily- wheee! - which is fun. But your fabric is slipping around, so you probably don't want to mess with that much.
The bamboo hoop held the fabric well, despite not having any sort of lip at all. However, the screw and nut fastener is super cheap, and feels like it's going to break right off. It's tiny, and tough to adjust.

WORKING:
The fabric seems to stay in place really well with the Clover hoop. I've noticed that the bamboo and cheap plastic hoops tend to let your fabric sag the more you work with them. However, it's really fast and easy to adjust the bamboo hoop once this happens.

INDENTATION:
I left some cotton mounted in the hoops for about a week. I intended to just leave it in there overnight (You know, like you're never supposed to do, because it stretches out the fabric or something).
The Clover by far left the biggest marks. They're raised really high, and very clear.
Oddly enough, the cheapola bamboo hoop left the least amount of marks. The indentations left behind are very faint.
Ironing and a little spray of water took care of all the indentations. Poof, gone. Really not a big deal.

OTHER NOTES:
The size of the Clover hoop (4 3/4") is a little unusual, but very nice for the smallish scale stuff that I do. Also, it looks so cute.

THE WINNER?
The Clover hoop is pretty nice. But is it actually worth it? Meh. Honestly, you may be better off with the cheap bamboo ones. Weird! The bamboo is the hoop I reach for most frequently now. It's faster to adjust, and doesn't leave too much of an indentation. But by all means, pass up the cheap plastic. Those things are terrible.

The Hex

Hello, dear readers. You may recall a post, not so very long ago, where I attempted to quilt. So frustrating was the process that I vowed never to quilt again. Ever. Never, ever.
I did finish that one quilt, though. It sits on our bed right now, and it is rather awesome. I love how it looks, all imperfect and handmade and cozy. Olive loves it, too. She scrunches it up and studies the patterns. It buys me up to an extra half hour of sleep most mornings.
Clearly, quilts are fantastic. I am now a convert.
A friend made an amazing hexagon quilt for Olive. It's hand finished and utterly perfect and lovely. I've been staring at it hanging on her crib for far too long. It started to look doable. I stared to visualize a nap sized quilt for Olive and I to read under. She could drape it over chairs to make forts. It would be handmade and cozy and lovely.
Thus, I began working on the Hexagon Hell quilt in early June.
I had a vast array of pink fabrics gathering on the shelf, begging for a project to be part of. I wanted great big hexagons. I went with a 5" size, because that was the largest one my ruler would make. I also wanted to make an embroidered centerpiece. I had recently finished designing the Bunnies in the Kitchen embroidery patterns, and I wanted to try them out. I figured they'd be perfect for this.
The cutting progressed perfect and uneventfully. Man, I love cutting fabric. With the first quilt I made, I started with a charm pack that turned out to be...less than square. I only found this out once all the "squares" were sewn together and the strips would. Not. Line. Up. I was determined to not have the same problem happen twice. (See The Quiltening part 1) I bought a special plastic cutting guide, and I very, very carefully cut each piece. The initial phase went so well that I pretty much failed to document it. "Wow! This is going perfectly. I don't think I'll get a blog post out of this at all. Wheee!"

Before too long, I had lovely stacks. I laid them out in a pleasing arrangement, pinned post its in place to guide the assembly, and got crackin'.
Super careful assembly of the long strips began. Seam guides were used. Seams pressed open. Blah blah blah.
And then.
And THEN.
I had 11 perfect rows. I was rarin' to attach them to each other. I laid the first two out and...
Drew a total blank.
How the heck do these things fit together?
I couldn't figure it out, but I found a helpful tutorial that made it click. The stitching commenced.
AND THEN.
The hexagons simply would not line up properly. I watched the video again. I ripped the seam again. I watched the video several more times. I ripped the same darn seam many, many more times.
This is where the fit of pique happened.
The sounds of angry grunting and frustrated whining brought by husband into the room.
"Why won't they line up? WHY?!?! I was so careful!"
"Hmmm...why are they so much longer on one side?"
"They're not! They can't possibly be! I used a RULER!"
I felt like such a failure. How could I have made the same mistake again? I threw in the towel for the night. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw hexagons. Gahhhh.
Throwing the towel (er, quilt top) away was not an option. Not that I ever give up that easily. (If my mom is reading this, she just said "HA!") I had used up a bunch of my favorite hoarded fabrics. Laurie Wisbrun lambs were in there! And a bunch of Japanese imports from Superbuzzy that I bought when I was pregnant with Olive. The quilt must go on.
However, it soon became apparent that doing things the "right" way wasn't going to work for me, either. I realized again that I simply do not have a straight line in me. Trying to force perfect geometric shapes out of me was making me crazy. I have such limited time to create things these days. Picking a painful project just seemed insane.
I couldn't stop thinking about those darn things. I kept rearranging them in my mind, and coming up with other ways to salvage the quilt. I even dreamed of a really fantastic quilt that night.
I had a small window of time the next day to try out some of my ideas. I stumbled upon something that worked for me. Real quilters will probably want to puke when they hear it, but I think we've established that I am not a real quilter.
I simply laid both strips right side up, and folded the second strip on top of the first. I then sewed on top of the folded hexagon. Boom. Done. It worked! I no longer felt like a looser. Nay, I was a sewing wunderkind!
I'm really pleased with the effect. The rows are layered almost like roof tiles. It makes me think of Necco wafers tiled on a gingerbread roof.
For the backing, I happened to have snagged some cute vintage-y green rosebuds at the local thrift store. A couple of seams later, and that was done.
Now, the basting. Man, was I dreading the basting. The last time I quilted, the basting went on forever. Thread and needle. Hands and knees. Pregnant lady on the ground. Fun stuff. This time, however, I took my mother-in-law's advice: I bought a basting gun. That lady knows her stuff.
Boom, boom, boom, click click click, and 20 minutes later, I was done. A revelation! One does not have to suffer to baste! Sure, this makes for a less interesting blog post, but it also makes for a FINISHED QUILT. And less pain.
Okay, now comes the part I was really, really dreading. (If I dread so many parts of this process, why was I doing it? This is a question that I asked myself a lot during the making, and one I still have no answer for.) THE ACTUAL QUILTING. I decided to bite the bullet and try to quilt it on my machine.
And...it went fine. More than fine, actually. It was so easy, and so fast. I really wish I had attempted to machine finish the last quilt.
Can I confess something to you? I actually like making binding. I spent a blissful couple of hours while the baby napped ironing. IRONING! And listing to the Judge John Hodgman podcast. It was perfect.
And thus, the quilt was finished. I actually finished it on July 17th. Not bad!
Here's the finished quilt:



And here's the embroidered centerpiece:

I LOVE how it turned out.

Okay, who's ready for a nap?

Five Hundred Chickenpants is a LOT of Chickenpants.

You guys, I can't even wrap my mind around this. FIVE. HUNDRED. 5.0.0. That I've made five hundred of anything is a wonder. I know I've mentioned before that I was the sort of artist who for years (seriously. years!) had a hard time finishing anything, and certainly couldn't stick to anything more than a few weeks. I still sort of think of myself as that person, even though I'm clearly not.
Then I made a Chickenpants, four years ago. Almost exactly four years ago, actually. And I simply couldn't stop. I still can't.
I've been trying to make some sense of this, to get some sort of revelation about my own creative process, or sense of accomplishment, or something, but honestly, I can't. I just keep my hands moving. It make me feel good. It makes me feel like myself.

Every so often I get bored and think of quitting. Then some irresistible idea or other comes along and I'm sewing again.

I really want to convey my gratitude to you all for reading my posts, commenting, clicking, and of course, buying my Chickenpants. I certainly would not have been able to make as many of these guys as I have without your support! Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I made a zine as a way of saying thank you. I wanted to give a little something to everyone. You can download it here.
And of course, there are festivities going on like crazy. For fan page/ mailing list members, there's a Celebration Pack I'm sending out with all orders. (Until I run out. I only have a handful of these things. A steadily decreasing handful. {Thank you!} Just let me know if you're a fan page/mailing list member in the notes to seller.)

In addition, all prints in the shop are now buy one, get one free. Simply tell me which one you'd like as your freebee in the "Message to Buyers" box during checkout.
I'll be posting links to Chickenpants friends and supporters all day on the fan page. (Er, as much as I can. Still have a 6 month old in the mix, of course.) And yes, there will be a special coupon code. (Fan page, won't you?)

So, Chickenpants 500! If you'd like to read his bio, he's over on Etsy.

Baby Steps

I always thought that baby steps were tiny measured forward movements. Always forward. But slowly.
Then, my baby started to take steps. I was so wrong.
Baby steps are more akin to a tiny drunken sailor on leave meandering down a dark alley. They stumble. They're uneven. They don't just go forward, they go backwards and left and right. They go fast! Then slow. Then stop. Then fast again! There is no plotting ahead, just crashing forward. (And backwards and left and right.)

Nothing on the coffee table is safe!

A little while back, during one of my "aaahhh, my life is different and I can't do as much creating as I used to" complain-a-thon posts, someone commented about baby steps. And they were right. That's me, drunken sailor baby stepping all over the place. Baby in one hand, needle and thread in the other. Then stop. Then fast, knocking out a quilt and Chickenpants all over the place.
Thusly, I have calmed down (sort of), and I have half a million unfinished projects all over the place. It is good.
Thank you all for your kind and thoughtful comments! I appreciate them all so much.