Hmm, perhaps a bit too close-up. Ah well. Same basic technique as the one I made from Bobbie, but intentionally different. Stitches this time are a multiple of 6 instead of five, there’s an elongated nose (for a while, it looked as if I was crocheting a multicolored nipple…), there’s a dorsal fin and the fins are shaped differently & have a sort of ruffled edge. The legs are made in one piece instead of individually (which is a good thing, as I accidentally put them on one side to begin with & had to frog ’em & put ’em on the bottom). Antennae were made to curl too.
Linda likes it, but it’s nowhere near as big a hit as the zombie dolly. She was smacking it against the wall this evening, trying to squish it I assume (Rob has taught them to squish bugs on sight).
Today’s non-crochet anecdote:
There are two local papers. We have home delivery of one, and buy the other (and also USA Today during the week; I’m a total newspaper slut). Well, we decided around four this afternoon that it was time to get dressed & go get the Star-Bulletin. Everyone was dressed and ready and literally walking to the door when Rob stopped to get the keys…And they weren’t on the hook.
Thus commenced an epic search for the keys. We looked upstairs. We looked downstairs. We cleaned and organized as we went. No sign of the keys. We’d had them just the day before, when we went to buy some groceries. It quickly became obvious that, for them to be lost as quickly & thoroughly as they had been, one or both of the children had to be the culprit.
I sent Rob out to the van, thinking that my set of keys was in the diaper bag. Of course, the van was locked, so he had to break into it. Luckily, my husband is one of those people who frequently locks his own keys in his vehicle (something I have never done), so he’s rather handy at it. But they weren’t there. Which meant the children had absconded with my keys as well.
Right around dusk (mind you, the search had been going on literally hours by this time), I decided to go outside & look for them again. The girls play out on the front porch quite a bit, and I thought perhaps they’d managed to shove them into one of the two sheds out there.
To understand the denoument of the story, you must know a small bit about the set-up here. We live in a sort of townhouse unit, and the porches are separated by cinderblock walls, which for some reason have holes in them, so that there are little openings between the porches. When I went out initially this afternoon to look in their toys, I peeked through to the porch next door, where lives a little girl about Bobbie’s age to whom she frequently passes toys.
What I neglected to do was get down on a child’s level.
When I went out this evening, though, I knelt down and looked through the bottom of the holes. Sure enough, there was the silhouette of my much-gnawed leather Texas. I reached through and retrieved my keys. I couldn’t see any others, but it stood to reason that his would also be there, and so they were.
Thank God they were within easy reach. I’d have hated to have to go to the neighbors and ask them to give us back our van keys…