Wild And Woolly

Lately, I've been very inspired by Brilliant Disguise's amazing little knitted friends and Jess Hutch's designs. With those two lovely ladies in mind, I decided to make a little wooly friend.

May I present Henry.

Henry is currently "blind" but may soon gain his sight (whenever I get a chance to buy or sew on some eyes). Henry has a bad hand (trying different limb-making techniques), but, as I grew up in a family with many differently-abled relatives, Henry has been welcomed with open arms and loving acceptance.

The fact that Henry shares the same name as one of those differently-abled relatives was not intentional. He just looked like his name should be Henry. I can't explain why, it's just how I named all my stuffed animals and toys when I was little. I would stare at them until their name appeared in my head. So, Henry is Henry. With apologies to cousin Henry, who would probably appreciate the humour in this situation.

Henry has been a busy little guy since he came out of the washer (yes, he is felted): He went to work with me last week and even made it out to both Stitch and Bitch nights. I think he was a hit with the ladies.

This weekend Henry and Andrew got to talking about the "One-eyed, One-horned, Flying Purple People Eater" and his success in the music business. Henry was interested in Andrew's studio, and even asked about rates; He's pretty sure of himself for an unemployed 5 day-old woolly monster. He talked about applying for a loan. Andrew encouraged Henry to explore his talents by trying out some of the instruments we have around the house, something for which I will have to thank him later.

First, Henry tried out the piano.

He asked me to teach him the notes to Frank Mills' "Music Box Dancer", a true classic for beginning pianists; but he hadn't counted on the logistics of a 4-inch woolly monster playing an instrument with 88-keys. Stating his concerns about running up and down the keys, he hopped off the bench.

We watched a Rock-u-mentary in the afternoon and I noticed that Henry was getting starry-eyed whenever the guitarists rocked their solos. Well, as starry-eyed as a woolly monster with no eyes can get. A while later, I found him like this:

I gently explained that when the lead singer introduces the guitarist as "So and so on guitar", it didn't actually mean "ON GUITAR" and besides, he was actually "on ukulele".

I explained some of the theory behind chording and left him on his own. I was on the phone when I heard him weeping.

Do you see that? He's stuck in the strings.

I felt so awful about the situation so I pulled out a couple of instruments I let the kids play with when they visit.

The recorder holes were just too far for him to reach.

And without opposable thumbs, the castanets were a complete self-esteem crushing disaster.

I felt awful about all these instruments not being appropriately sized for wee Henry and I could tell he was feeling down too, so I went to the kitchen to fix us a nice cup of tea (as you all well know, tea is good for what ails you!). I heard Henry rummaging around in the front room and although I wasn't sure what he was up to, I decided it would be best to let him have some time to himself. I made the tea and took the tray out to the living room.

Here's what I saw:

He's been there all afternoon. I can't drag him away from the mirror. Eyes or not, he thinks he's a brilliant singer.