Then The Cat Found My Ball of Yarn

I'm planning a small Christmas this year.  A simple Christmas.  I am shunning excessive consumerism.  I am banning over-spending.  I am casting it aside where it can join the ranks of other old-fashioned Christmas items like fruit cake and icicle tinsel.  And Jesus.

That's rather sad, isn't it?  Just thinking about it makes me nostalgic for the olden days - Christmas is definitely not the same without tinsel!  

Sure, icicle tinsel was really messy, static-clung to everything but the tree, clogged up the vacuum cleaner, and was irresistible to cats (as anyone who has ever had to pull a piece out of their cat's butt can attest to), but it made the tree just so gosh darn glittery!

So...no tinsel and no excessive consumerism.  This year I have decided to give hand-made gifts made by my very own two hands.  I looked up some gift ideas on-line that sounded simple enough, bought the supplies, and set to work.  I can't tell you everything I'm working on as my family does (on the rare occasion) read my blog, but I've more than enough flub-ups to keep you entertained.

First, I learned you can't add fresh rose petals to glycerin soap.  I mean, who would have guessed that their pretty pink freshness would instantly turn brown and rotten?  Go figure.

Then I tried my hand at making bath bombs.  You know those things you drop in the bath and they fizz and let off a nice scent while they soften the bath water?  They are supposed to be super easy to make, just one part citric acid to 2 parts baking soda.  Add a scent, some food colouring, then spritz with water until damp and pack into molds.  Voila!  But do you know what happens when you add water to citric acid and baking soda?  You create an endothermic chemical reaction that produces carbon dioxide gas.  In other words, you get a fizzing, bubbling, expanding mess of sweet-scented gunk.

And I dare any one of you to find me a single recipe for home-made bubble bath that actually bubbles.  I dare you.

So, leaving behind a kitchen cluttered with my yucky soaps, messy gunk, and impotent bubble bath,  I got my sewing basket and knitting needles and moved to the living room.

There I sat in my favorite chair, knitting away contentedly in the self-assurance that (finally) this was something within my capabilities.  Then the cat found my ball of yarn.  With a swat of his paw, he sent it rolling across the carpet, darted after it, then tackled it under the coffee table.  Another swat sent the ball rolling off in a different direction.  Then another pounce and tackle.  And on and on he played until my carpet was a complicated web of yarn.

Now, if any of you have experience with knitting, you will know that it's a very relaxing activity.  So, rather than becoming alarmed at the cat and the mess he was making, I was rather enjoying his antics - until I came to a wet break in my yarn.

He had chewed through it!  My cat was chewing the yarn!  There he sat at my feet, (looking deceivingly innocent as only a cat can) as he ate the yarn!

Now I'm back to thinking about icicle tinsel...