I love craft shows. Actually I love them and I hate them. I love them because I am always awestruck and inspired by all the talent and creativity. I hate them because I am broke and rent is coming and my craft purchases must be limited. I also harbour misguided aspirations of being a crafty girl myself until memories of failed attempts come back to haunt me and remind me that I can’t draw or thread a sewing machine and the one time I tried to throw clay on a pottery wheel I ended up making something that resembled a misshapen penis rather than a vase. I wander through the shows admiring all the cute crafty girls and want to wear funky shawls, get a new haircut and be all arty and talk about working in my studio. I end up feeling talentless and very boring. Sigh.

The Sweetie and I were having an animated discussion about craft shows and all things crafty. Being very practical (although a photographer and art lover himself) he concluded that craft shows are venues dedicated to stuff that nobody needs.

Well.

That’s a craft show buzz-kill if ever there was one. It’s not about need. It’s never about need. The same statement can be made about art. Nobody needs art. We don’t need to play . We don’t need to have sex unless we want to procreate. We don’t need to try amazing recipes if we are just eating to survive. Crafts, like art, are about expression and a celebration of creativity, and a rebellion against pure practicality and function. It’s about embracing frivolity and creating for the sake of making something beautiful or whimsical or doing it just for the sake of doing it. Our lives can be richer and fuller and more magical when we celebrate all things impractical, small and dreamy .

My One of a Kind Craft Show impractical purchases:

Brooke’s Delectable Chocolate (crack). I can only show the empty bag because I bought 2 bags and devoured both before I got home. It is unbelievable. Best delectable chocolate I’ve ever had. I have to load up every year and every year I inhale all of it in one sitting.

Sweet bunny with a fuzzy tail by Fabricawakuwaku and super soft silk screened tshirt by Ollie Golightly for my girlfriend’s baby.

My Crafternoon Tea purchase:

Soap Scum soap. Who doesn’t love filthy animals?

I know none of these crafty buys will change my life in any significant way. I did, however, have a marvelous few hours of scarfing back chocolate, wandering through aisles of delightful sights and was simultaneously delighted and depressed. What more can I ask for on a blustery cold November weekend?

Between the misshapen baby blanket and my weird knitted bear on steroids, my handmade baby gifts have so far been a bit of a bust. I decided I had better have a decent offering for my new nephew.

I found the perfect onesie at my friend’s groovy store , Nathalie-Roze and Co. She carries indie Canadian clothing and accessory designers in her adorable shop nestled in Leslieville.

SLO, a Toronto designer, makes funky onesies from recycled tshirts. Crafty and environmentally friendly, what more could a new auntie ask for? I found an adorable recycled Rolling stones concert t-shirt and knew this would be the coolest baby ever. Even though I can’t look at Mick Jagger without thinking of Don Knotts, or Keith Richards without thinking of an expressive grandma who spends her winter’s in Florida wearing silky caftans, they were great in their heyday.

The problem arose when I showed it to my sweetie and he was appalled at the back. “You can’t have skeletons on a baby!” he exclaimed, “that’s creepy and wrong!”

To tell you the truth, I don’t think I even noticed the the skeletons on the back. I was too busy admiring the giant Rolling Stones lips on the front and patting myself on the back about my cool auntie status. Too late now. The nephew is getting his onesie, inappropriate or not.

I figure:

1) It’s a baby. It won’t care if it has skeletons on it’s back

2) It’s a boy. He’ll care even less about what he’s wearing, and the skeletons will make him feel tough

3) His parents drive a Prius and buy organic food, so the green bragging rights of having a recycled t-shirt onesie should override the creepy skeleton factor

4) The creepy skeletons signifying death are a stark contrast to the cuddly baby wearing it, perhaps acting as a symbol of how closely life and death are intertwined. It will give baby something to ponder between feedings and pooing

After my humbling knitted blanket attempt for my sister’s baby, I decided to aim a little smaller and try knitting a bear. Luckily, I could unravel one of my misshapen, dull brown blanket squares, perfect for a woodland creature. I had planned on being earthy and using natural colours instead of opting for pastels with the failed blanket. Yawn. If it had worked out it would have been very dull. The baby would have been bored silly with the blah colours in his blanket I’m sure. Perhaps things worked out for the best.

I found an adorable pattern on Knitty.com, a wonderful source for free knitting patterns.

All seemed to be going swimmingly until I had to increase my stitches to shape the head, which resulted in a bit of a gaping hole at one end. It’s made his head quite wobbly, so that it disturbingly looks like he has a broken neck. Too disturbing for a baby. I had to knit him a bear scarf to hide the hole and keep his head a little more balanced.

The bear also seems to have developed Popeye arms due to my overzealous stuffing. Now it looks like it has taken steroids, has a weird wobbly neck and a pot belly, due to my aforementioned overstuffing problem.

This bear has some serious body issues.

My friend hates squirrels. Not that a squirrel has ever done anything to her. Never insulted or assaulted her in any way. Never dug up spring bulbs in her garden, stolen her nuts, or set up nests in chimneys she knew. As far as I can see, this hatred is completely unprovoked and unwarranted. She thinks they are rats with fluffy tails. Their cute fluffy tails are in fact very redeeming and charming, as is their ability to scamper along tree branches without losing their footing. I suspect she may be jealous. Who wouldn’t want to hop from branch to branch without a care in the world? My friend would probably like that a lot.

Over the years, I have taken it upon myself to try to turn her squirrel frown upside down, and her birthday is a prime time for me to conduct my squirrel loving campaign. She is a fall baby after all, and should therefore embrace the cute gathering nut squirrel all the more. In the past I have presented her with squirrel cards, salt and pepper shakers, figurines, bobble heads. This year I decided I would take it a step further and lovingly craft her a felt squirrel from my new adorable book.

As you can see, it is not nearly as cute as the squirrel in the book, but perhaps that will make it all the more endearing. Perhaps it will enlighten my dear friend, and help her realize that squirrels and their felt brothers and sisters are deserving of love, rodent like or not.

When my sister announced she was pregnant, I decided I’d knit a baby blanket. I felt tremendously smug as I chose a pattern and soft cotton yarn, patting myself on the back for my D.I.Y. resourcefulness and future thoughtful auntie status. I was thrilled to be moving beyond scarves and to be climbing another rung towards the knitting big leagues

It was going to look like this:

I have since discovered that it is, in fact, important to count rows (as instructed) and not enough to eyeball a knitted square and decide it is the correct size.

Instead of birthing a cutesy blanket I could show off at any given baby shower, I am left with a humbling collection of misshapen squares that don’t fit together properly.

So much for the knitted heirloom that was going to be proudly passed on through generations, my legacy as the cool crafty aunt cemented for all time.