Posts Tagged ‘cute’

What Ben got me for our anniversary:


That’s right, the Disappearing Tardis mug! When you put hot beverages in it the Tardis disappears and reappears on the other side. I remember we had a very similar Phantom of the Opera mug when I was a kid.

Anyway. What I very nearly got Ben for our anniversary:


Fortunately I got him a completely DIFFERENT piece of Doctor Who-related kitsch. Which hasn’t arrived yet, so I can’t post a picture.

Great minds, etc, etc.

EDITED TO ADD: It came this afternoon:


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The pack

From Knit your own Dog:

Basset Hound, Corgi, Scottish Terrier, Pug, Dachshund

The legs on the pug turned out very floppy – if I were making him to stand up, I’d stick pipe cleaners in the legs. Since I made these for a mobile for the baby I’m leaving it like it is.

When I construct the mobile I will most certainly post pictures of it.

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I was in Old Navy the other day in the extremely tiny Maternity and Baby section (because who doesn’t have enough maternity pants? I didn’t buy anything though) when I noticed the what was possibly the cutest and the saddest thing ever.

The cutest: A tiny Superman onesie.

The cutest thing ever, also the tiniest image ever - sorry

The saddest: An identical pink version of the same onesie, only for girls.


(BTW, I know these are not identical. Also that the first is a onesie and the second is a shirt. It was surprisingly difficult to find pictures of the ones I saw in the store online and this was the closest I could get. Trust me, they were identical in every respect, only one was pink. And sparkly.)

You know, it is pretty much impossible to tell if a baby is a boy or a girl without checking what’s in its diaper. And babies themselves could not care less about gender, since they have trouble with understanding such basic concepts as “hungry”, “tired”, and “the difference between self and not-self”. The only reason that baby clothes are so absurdly gendered – and they are, they really are – is that a lot of adults have a hard time relating to anyone whose gender is unclear. (If you don’t believe me, talk to the transgender people discriminated against by a farmer’s market in London, Ontario. Hometown pride!) So boy babies have to wear blue and girl babies have to wear pink and little useless headbands (they don’t have hair, people) and get their ears pierced, just so your casual passerby will know that you’re carrying around a little Supergirl and not a Superboy.

And for the record I like cute things, and I don’t mind pink or anything, though I don’t wear it often as it doesn’t go with my colouring, and if I have a girl she will certainly have little pink outfits. There’s nothing wrong with cuteness or girliness or pinkness. But I don’t see why an already unbelievably adorable object needs to be girlified and sparklified, if not to pander to adult gender anxieties. And I think it’s kind of sad that we as a culture have a hard time just dressing up our little girls like superheros, instead of sparkly pink superheros, or that we can’t dream of putting our boys in sparkly pink. Because I can’t think of a single good reason why this should be, but enough people must have thought of at least one for Old Navy to have come up with gendered superhero onesies for newborns.

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Earlier this month I completely cleaned out a Fabricland that was closing down, figuring I would make a bunch of baby clothes to save some money/exercise my sewing skills a little better than I did by making diapers/give myself something else to guilt-trip my future child about.

And so far I have completed exactly one (1) completely adorable little outfit complete with little feet.

The object on the left is called a "bunting".

It seems that most baby patterns are for things that you would give as gifts, like the set above. So they include cute little appliques:

and feet pants that you embroider lion faces on:

Look at the little feet!

Also I think there must be very strict regulations surrounding the manufacture of baby sleepwear, because all baby patterns include the phrase “NOT INTENDED TO BE USED FOR SLEEPWEAR”, even when they clearly are for pyjamas. Seriously, the more modern word for “bunting” (a sort of sack thing you put a baby in instead of using blankets, because the little bastards are prone to accidentally choking themselves) is “sleeping sack”. What is the bunting for if not for swaddling your sleeping baby in?

Anyway, who knows? I had a curling iron for a while that had a label on it warning you not to use it to curl your eyelashes.

If you want to make this yourself, this is New Look Baby pattern #6015. I used about 1.5 metres blue fleece (the outfit and lining for the bunting) and a 60 cm remnant of flannel for the outside of the bunting.  (The bunting isn’t supposed to have a lining, but the fleece was also a remnant and had some flaws in the dye, so I thought I’d make it warmer by using the flawed fleece to line it, since I couldn’t use it for anything else.)  It took about 7 hours including hand-appliqueing the lion.

Considering how long this took me – and how much fabric it used, considering the size of the creature it’s intended for – I think I can make two more little outfits like this one and maybe three little cotton outfits for summer, hardly a complete layette. Fortunately I live quite close to two thrift stores with extensive baby sections.

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We’ve been on a clean living and cleanliness kick lately, so this morning I made the bed right after getting up.

I know what you’re thinking, smug clean-freak people – “Why is that unusual? I do that every morning, right before I exercise for 30 minutes and sweep my already spotless floor!”  Well, lah-di-dah. It’s like flossing – I go through phases. Sometimes I do it every day when it’s my turn, sometimes I don’t.

Anyway, the dogs like to sleep in the bed during the day, especially when it’s cold and rainy.  Normally they burrow under the covers and make a little nest.  Madeline does this even when the bed is made, much to my annoyance.  Gus has never quite figured that one out.

So this is what he did this morning:

In case you can’t tell because of the matching duvet cover and pillow shams, he has burrowed under…a pillow.


I’m kind of impressed by his problem-solving skills.  Clearly his thought process went something like:

– I want to get under the covers.
– I can’t get under the covers.
– Maybe I can get under this thing.

I’m also impressed that he got under the pillow without flipping it over and losing his little nest.

"Will you please turn off the light and let me get some sleep?"

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That is all.

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As I’m not working much right now, I have been taking the dogs to the off-leash more frequently than normal. It’s only about a 15 minute walk away, but if you work 2:30-9:30 or whatever I was doing in the school year you find yourself disinclined to haul yourself there and back even when you do have time.

And if I haven’t been in a while I always forget how awesome dogs are. I am constantly reminded of how awesome my own dogs are, but I do forget that other people’s are as well. Some examples:

– Marley, the Sharpei/Basset Hound. Just picture what that cross would look like.




I know, you can’t. This is a Basset Hound:

And this is a Shar Pei:

And this is what you might get if you play God Cupid:

That is not an actual picture of Marley. She basically looked like a Basset Hound with a few extra wrinkles, only she was entirely the tan Shar Pei colour. And she was a sweetheart.

– Brooke, the 3/4 Chihuahua/ 1/4 Jack Russell

You know how some short guys are really aggressive and macho to make up for their shortness? Brooke may be 4 pounds of adorable long-haired Chihuahua-ness, but she is totally overcompensating. Madeline will occasionally go up to a much larger dog and howl in its face. This is not a smart thing for a 25-pound dog to do, but at least Madeline is not in danger of being squashed by the misstep of a Bernese Mountain Dog. Brooke was determined that the entire park knew she was the toughest dog around, and she did her best. Unfortunately she was so cute that even the Great Dane didn’t buy it.

– Billy the Bull-Terrier

Billy likes his squeaky toy. So much that he keeps it in his mouth, squeaking it, all the time. He lets his (also quite adorable) owner throw it, then gets hold of it and won’t let go for anything. This doesn’t stop him from playing with the other dogs – he runs around with them, and occasionally pokes one in the shoulder with his snout, because he can’t play-bite them without dropping his toy, and growls if anyone makes a play for it. That sort of obsession is awfully endearing.

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