Swants!

Finally, a fashion trend I can revel in.

I followed the Westknits tutorial, mostly.
Some modifications are needed if using lady sweaters.Men's sleeves join the body perpendicularly; women's have a tapered sleeve.

These are females

If the angle isn't too narrow, just follow the tutorial, which is what I did for this sweater.
The gray one needs the sleeves picked loose and reattached upside down, ie with the shoulder where the armpit was, otherwise the extra fabric causes lumpage in the crotchal region. 

I cut the neck out and hemmed it as a dickey, but she wouldn't wear it.

I think I messed up here, because I ended up with ear flaps.

They're not too noticeable after being sewed down.

Had to take in the waist too

Daaaaa!

Noodly arms should not be confused with a lack of enthusiasm.  The Kid wore these into public, on purpose, and would wear them again if they weren't in the laundry. 

The Ghost of Thanksgivings Past

It's actually the thing that holds turkey legs together, but it looks like my dear departed Cody Beast.
Turkey butt was always his favorite.

Anthem

A Recurring Theme

 She is the very Mischief, a crooked girl who hopped from a crows egg hatched in a cuckoo's nest and ever afterwards walked contrarywise though the world.

 Patron Saint of Unintended Children, and people who come into our lives not intending to Stay. Also Foxes, Coyotes, Pigeons, Rats and Lost Shoes by the roadside.  

She is Mictecacihuatl, keeper of the Gates and Ways, Protector of displaced, discarded, dispirited and disenfranchised Peoples. Hers is all food eaten in secret, all forgotten truths and all hidden treasure.

Her Day is today, November 1st, Day of the Innocents.

A Long Year's Walk

My Dad had the recent good fortune and perseverance to turn 67 years old. As he did last year, he commemorated the auspicious event by completing his 67th ascent of the local Mount Moooooo (there may be an A in there, somewhere) and raising a toast

To Old Guys

 I made a picture about it with colored pencils and sent it to him. Customs rumpled it, rude bastards.

Long Bone, 18x24

 In anticipation of many years' more journeys.
Based on this:

Our lives shine for all to see.

Go In The Machine!

These days, if it's not one thing, it's your mother.

Mine decided she needed to supplement her attic insulation with 4,500 cubic buttloads of cellulose insulation. (the fancy words are a lie, cellulose means shredded up newspaper)
In August, in the warmth.
The unconventional wisdom being, that if you insulate the attic while it's 100-plus degrees outside, that heat will be trapped there so that it can keep the house nice and toasty in winter.
So I got to clamber up there with an extended-range fluff bazooka and blast away at the rafters for 3 hours.
Before the dust started, it was a silent gray snowfall.

THIS is the power supply for fluff-blasting. It requires two able-bodied persons to stand over it and crumble the bales of cellulose into manageable chunks. During my turn at this, I discovered the work goes by more pleasantly if one sings, "Crumble crumble crumble crumble crumble" to nearly any tune that comes to mind. Sadly the vocals are not included in this recording.

And now my camera is dusty.

Sighted Recently - The Grackle of Total Disillusionment

I gave him a french fry.

He wasn't cheered.

He may be afflicted with West Vile Nirus.