Nine comments? For a blog that hadn’t been updated in six months?! You are the best readers a blogess could hope for.
Reflections on questions/suggestions in the comments:
Anj: How are the kittehs doing?
Well-ish. Joon had to have two teeth removed and something funky is going on with one of Benny’s kidneys; will retest in October. For now, Not Thinking About It. That being said, they are sassier and friendlier than ever, certainly poster children for adopting from a shelter. And since comments about the kittehs are often a veiled request for a photo ( :-) ), here they are, staring at a fly on the ceiling:
Diana and kmkat: How about knitting new covers for the lamp shades?
Problem is, either way I have to buy new lampshades because it’s impossible to “un-sisal” the one lampshade I did do. That hot-glue-gun glue is some industrial-strength sh___. What do you think of these? (I don't care what the salespeople think; I'm giving any potential lampshades a good long sniff before I buy them.)
SquareMary: LOVE the story about trying to make lampshades out of slides. I’ve seen that done on a craft show and am intrigued by the result but the effort required—holy Jebus. Dozens of slides, and four hole punches and four jump rings per slide? I could knit a pair of socks in the time that would take! Although I can see it being a fun event for a group, a “lampshade bee,” if you will.
JanzKnitz: Put the lampshades in the sun…
I did this recently with a hand-knit cotton washcloth that had developed a funky, moldy smell. Even better, I completely forgot about it and so it went through days and days of getting fried and sterilized in the sun and, you’re right, it worked remarkably well. But I don't think the smell of the sisal can be "fried" out of it; I think it's too much a part of it.
Kris: Did the sisal block out the light?
Actually, no. It really made a pleasant filtered light through the gaps in the sisal. I was surprised.
Diana: Love the lamps! Would you be insulted or flattered if I copied them?
I copied the idea so knock yerself out! There are lots more examples on Pinterest, or just on the interwebs in general, if you want more inspiration. Despite the end result, it was fun and easy.
I’m only human. Like most people, I think, “[Such-and-such] only happens to other people.” Oopsie—hello, depression; hello, breast cancer. Unfortunately, I've also made the mistake of thinking this: “Moth infestations only happen to other people.” Oopsie—hello, moth infestation. Not only a moth infestation, but an infestation of moth-epicures. Before I realized they were in the house, they had gone on a laser-beam-guided hunt for the best of the best which, by moth definition, is the least processed, closest-to-the-source wool. And what can be less processed and closer to the source than felted Mongolian camel fur which even still smells like camel? Yes, they found the Mongolian camel from Cousin Tom, Mongol LEE. (Dulaaners may remember the name.)
They disemboweled the poor thing. It made me sad for so many reasons. Trouble is, I can’t kill the moths. It’s a Thing with me. So if they want to eat their way through all the wool in the house, they’re welcome to it. That being said, other than the camel, everything was and has been well-protected so I’m hoping this will be the worst of the damage. And that being said, I don’t prevent Benny and Joon from killing the moths but they don’t. I can’t say I blame them. Who wants a mouthful of moth?
[Update: Joon did catch one last night. Caught it near the bed while I was lying in bed and crunched it right in my ear. Euw. So euw.]