Scissor Madness

I spent last night and this morning working on the felt.

My parents were told, when I was in kindergarten, that I was extraordinarily good with scissors for my age. I've always remembered this with pride, and considered it proof that I am a born crafter.

Last night I discovered that I was wounding myself with scissors. This would not be the first time. I think my skills and brainpower are devolving as time passes. Maybe grad school is making me dumb, and weak.

(this next part is slightly gross, so the seriously squeamish might want to skip ahead)
Yesterday morning I discovered the following small slice of skin off the knuckle on the second finger of my right hand. At first I thought I had accidently razor-bladed it when I was shaving the felt the night before. This would be very typical of me, though I did think it was odd that I hadn't noticed at the time.



But then after another evening spent in cutting up thick pieces of felt, I found an identical wound on the next knuckle, and another like it in the process of forming on the underside of the base of my thumb. I'm forming scissor calluses! And I thought carpel tunnel was the biggest thing I had to worry about with my fiber hobby.

Anyhoo. I made this mess of the bedroom, cutting pieces of felt into vaguely rectilinear shapes.



I also cut out pieces for a couple more handbags. Will photograph them later, when they're more impressive than they are now.

I'm well on my way to having the two big patchwork pillowcases which were the original goal, but in the process I couldn't resist whipping up this little back pillow, out of the grey sweater which I decided was too big around for a comfortable handbag:



I cut teeny holes every so often in the ribbing section, and threaded a ribbon through these for closure. I hate buttons on pillows.

While going through my sewing supply stash for the pieces of felt leftover from the last time I did this, I discovered that a random plastic bag I'd long assumed contained only my Salome Halloween costume from a few years ago actually contained this amazing blast from the past:



I'd thought my old cross-stitch projects had long since been lost in the several moves my stuff has undergone in the last decade or so, along with my candlewicked pillow case, the "Indian" beadwork bracelets, the heart-shaped basket, the original green knitted slippers with pom-poms, the pink popple I sewed all by myself, and various other products of my crafty childhood. Apparently not. I believe this is the complete collection of every cross-stitch project I worked, except for a series of bookmarks that I gave away to parents and grandparents. It even included the last, unfinished project - haven't the faintest what it was supposed to be when it was done, but I think it's funny that it's pink. The pink peace sign you see (in the upper right corner, if it's big enough to see) represents the only design I invented myself. I was a hippy girl. The really cool thing is that I also have my entire collection of embroidery floss. It's all tangled up in a ziploc bag, but otherwise in good shape, and there's a lot of it. Will have to think on what I can knit with it....any ideas?

More later about the pillow stuffing.