Friday, May 29, 2009

Yo-Yo Woes

When I was ten years old, I had a secret crush on my classmate, Julie. This is our class photo from 1984:


There's Julie, in the pink dress. We never once traded a word.


Throughout forth grade, my mom dropped me off at school an hour early, before most kids arrived. I would wait outside my classroom, and that was where the following true story occurred.

That's me, in the checkered blue shirt:



That morning, I saw someone walking down the street, toward where I stood.




Julie!

Panicked, I had two options:




I ran and hid.



From behind a nearby hedge, I watched her take my place in front of our classroom.




I turned away, flush with self-defeat.



But when I looked back through the foliage, I saw something wonderful.




She was waving to me!

I leapt out from behind the bush and waved back happily.




But she wasn't waving. It only appeared that way.



She was playing with a yo-yo.



I sunk back behind the bush—not knowing if Julie saw me—and sat there until the school bell rang.

To commemorate this traumatic incident, I crocheted these two yo-yos:


They're weighted down with polyfill and embarrassment, which is why they don't bounce back like toy yo-yos.

Since forth grade, I've learned to accept that secret crushes are accompanied by fleeting highs and humiliating lows.

But I do wish I brought along a yo-yo that morning. I might have impressed her with my fancy tricks:


Yo yo, how ya like me now?

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Green 'round Grenades

Atten-hut!

If you are a crocheter and a World War II soldier, it is mission-critical to arm yourself with effective gear, including crochet hooks, threading needles, and grenades.

Kaboom! Kaboom!


I made these grenades from rows of popcorn stitches and double crochet stitches, with increasing single crochet stitches between each row.

Boom!


These friendlier grenades are in love. Aren't they cute? (^_^)

Well, they may seem cute to Civvies, but explosives are no laughing matter. And as a make-believe soldier who watched Tropic Thunder and bought a Canadian military uniform from an army surplus store, I should know.


War is hell.

Now, I admit to lacking experience with explosives. You could even say I'm "green" around grenades. But as you'll see in this video from my war correspondent girlfriend, I know enough to pull the grenade's safety pin:


After that shell-shocking experience, I salute the real-life soldiers up here in Canada. Hoorah!

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Plain Plane

It's Mother's Day and my mom is in China. She flew there last week with her brother, as part of a well-deserved vacation.

To celebrate both Mother's Day and her high-flying voyage, I crocheted her this airborne gift:


The Plain Plane! It's made less plain by its banner, held up by beading wire.

Like the BubbleGun, the Plain Plane is environmentally-sound: 100% powered by human hand propulsion. The wings and fins are reinforced with aerodynamic recycled cardboard, though the ride is still turbulent.


My girlfriend recorded this video of two different planes sharing the same airspace:


Mom, if you're reading this from China, I hope you're having a fun-filled adventure. You are a plainly-perfect mom.

Happy Mother's Day!

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Bubble Trouble


The last time a mysterious briefcase arrived on my doorstep, I discovered a ray gun that accompanied me on an intergalactic rescue mission. So when a new briefcase appeared, I knew it was hero-time!

Packed in pink bubblegum, the weapon-of-choice was revealed:


BubbleGun!


A BubbleGun can shoot bubblegum bubbles that will immobilize all enemies. It is a hybrid ray gun—powered by electricity and air—that has the added advantage of energy-efficiency. The disadvantage is its high cost: 25 cents per dozen bubble shots. Exact change only.


This side shows the BubbleGun's air intake vents and power button:


Would I prefer that the gun was Race-Car Red or Midnight Black? Yes, but I've never surrendered to society's colour stereotypes. Pink or not, I was going to inflict some bubble trouble!

But my sister angrily snatched the gun away and insisted the briefcase was addressed to: "The Bubblegum Bounty-Hunter". She had been saving up quarters for weeks.

Before she left, I asked my bounty-hunter sister to demonstrate the BubbleGun on video:


She has since flown off to some heroic adventure in space, blasting bubbles at alien fugitives.

Whatever.

I wanted to stay home anyway.



POP!

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