Bear-a-thon: Day 12

My favourite one so far.

Bear-a-thon: Day 10

I've discovered I can crochet and walk at the same time.

Bear-a-thon: Day 8

Well kids, it's been a slow start. A week in and I've only just completed my first bear. The Trunk Show is only three weeks away! Can Knittah pull it off? I dunno...

An aside...

So apparently the rumour is true: Gunshine State rapper Rick Ro$$ used to be a freaking cop. He's got as much street cred now as my cuddly widdle teddy, who - in honour of their striking resemblance - I've decided to name Trilla Bear. That bear be ridin' big, that bear be ridin' rims.

The Bear-a-thon Begins

Four days in, six heads done. I'm approaching this project assembly-line style, completing several of the same body parts at once. I thought about finishing one bear at a time, but in the event that I (hopefully) get better with each one, there would be a whole lotta not-so-cute early bears and much better looking late bears (like evolution!), and it'll be like watching a Tracey Ullman-era Simpson's episode where you're all like "Ewww."

Can't stop, won't stop.

I can't stop crocheting sad little bears. This is your classic Ursus americanus (or, American Black Bear), with an ultra-suede nose and German, hand-blown glass eyes. He's about two apples high, and he'll break your heart. Don't be afraid, he's a quiet little guy who likes to nap in the backyard, like this: Fortunately, all this hooking has paid off - yours truly has been accepted to participate in yet another City of Craft/Workroom Trunk Show coming up on August 17 (details will be posted soon). Know what this means? Knittah be on a month-long bear-making marathon, that's what. Lucky for me, Romni Wools is having an orgasmic sale right now and I damn near fainted when I saw all the teddy bear-appropriate wool in their basement. Three bags full, indeed. Stay tuned to watch the bear-a-thon chain stitch it's way into a trunk full of teddies...

Bears all day, kid. Seriously. I'm not kidding.

Yours truly spent a lovely Sunday afternoon with The Ostrich (after bribing him with a Cheddar Chutney sandwich from Cool Hand of a Girl ) at the Toronto Botanical Gardens. Now, I'm usually quite content hanging around my own 'hood, gathering acorns in High Park and such, but today was the freaking Teddy Bear Show which is totally worth a trip to Don Milli Mills. Taking into account my current teddy bear making addiction, I thought "How timely!" and simply had to check this show out. As a result I'm $60 poorer, but am now armed with 10 pairs of heartbreakingly cute German glass teddy bear eyes which are going to take my bears to a whole 'nother level (but will also turn them into a choking hazard) as well as some luxurious ultra-suede that will make for the softest bear noses ever. The Ostrich and I are quite new to the vintage and collectible teddy bear world, and I was quite delighted to see such hardcore bears, like this show-stopper here by Sue Burgan of Victorian Fantasy Teddy Bears.

The Ostrich, I'm afraid, was not quite as impressed.

But we both equally enjoyed the Garden.

Neighbourhood Watch: Glenholme Ave & Earnscliffe Rd

I think there's gonna have to be a new feature on G-Uknit: Explorations of really good vandalism. But really, I prefer to call it Street Art. Don't go looking for this one though, pigs already took it down. Luckily a friend took this shot just in time. Please, Hammer, don't hurt 'em.

Making bears for people making babies.

Lotsa babies gonna get born this Fall, and they's all gettin' crocheted bears from Auntie Knittah.

Back in the day, when I was just a lil' Knittah, all I ever wanted was a classic brown teddy bear. No sparkly pink thang, no funny pants or bow ties, just a plain old brown bear. Guess what I never got? One year I was close; got loaded into the Oldsmobile and whisked away to the Woolco, just to pick out the bear I wanted for Christmas. I selected carefully, choosing the most perfect brown bear there was (you know, "chocolate" brown - not "cappuccino" or "chai" or "chestnut," but the most universal, quintessential, platonic-ideal brown my eight-year-old eyes could discriminate). But no. Got the freaking fluffy white one instead. That Christmas morning, I was all like "Don't y'all know I'm gonna get jam all over this white bear in about four seconds?" Parents just don't understand. So, to all you babies that are going to find yourselves thrown into this (merciless) world (full of crappy toys) over the next few months, don't worry, I got your backs: Knittah keeps it real, no fake-ass bears.