UPDATED: Doctor Who in Felty Goodness (Nicole, do not let your girls see this)

   When I heard my nieces had recently become addicted to one of my favorite shows ever, I was thrilled. I was even more thrilled because I have their family for Christmas this year! Or so I thought. I guess I was mixed up, but luckily my brother traded with me, and blah blah blah, yay, now I have them!

  Anyway, I wanted to celebrate our shared obsession, so I broke out the ol' felt again and set out to make them some dolls. But not just any dolls . . .

"Oh, hello!" -- DOCTOR WHO DOLLS!

   The tenth Doctor and his beautiful companions! Now, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the magic and awesomeness of Doctor Who, here is a little guide for you:

   This girl in pink here? Rose Tyler. The blue box in the back? A TARDIS (Time And Relative DImension In Space). Basically, it's a time machine that disguises itself as a Police Box from the 60's.

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  Rose Tyler is companion to the ninth Doctor and tenth Doctor (there are multiple Doctors because the Doctor regenerates into a new actor every time he's about to die). Rose is known in the real world as Billie Piper. This isn't a great picture, but one of the few I could find where she was wearing the outfit I was trying to recreate (it had to be a pink outfit, of course, or I knew Ella would be horribly disappointed).

   When Rose makes her heartbreaking departure, Martha Jones becomes the rebound companion of the tenth Doctor.

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  Poor Martha. Otherwise known as the lovely Freema Agyeman.


And, of course, the one and only Donna Noble! When Martha makes her exit, Donna and the Doctor are thrust together once again (she has shown up previously) and this time, she sticks around.

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Donna, AKA Catherine Tate. I think everyone hates her the first few episodes, and then you realize she's hilarious.

   And, the man himself, the drool-worthy Doctor! Doctor who, you ask?

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  Just "the Doctor". Or, you know, David Tennant. He looks human, but is actually a Time Lord from the planet Galifrey. He is the last of his kind. The Doctor, that is. Not David Tennant, he's disappointingly human.

   The Doctor, doing what he does best--running! From the Daleks, a relic of the 60's that seem to appear an awful lot for an extinct race. The Daleks and Time Lords fought each other in the last Time War, where they all died. Supposedly.

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 "EXTERMINATE!" 

They generally don't come in pink or purple, but when you're making dolls for 3 year old and 7 year old girls, some adjustments need to be made.

 

  This is one chill Cyberman. They're like Daleks, only they "DELETE!" rather than "EXTERMINATE!". They'll assimilate you if they can, but they're fine about "deleting" as well.

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  When I was finished with the basic pictures, I started to have a little too much fun posing . . .

 

   The Doctor and Rose getting a little makey-outy. Oh, and K-9, too!

   "WELL, YOU'RE NOT MATING WITH ME, SUNSHINE!"

 

K-9 getting overly friendly with a Dalek.

  The whole gang together! 

  Here's hoping that Livi and Ella still love Doctor Who come Christmas!

UPDATE: Awww, YOU GUYS! You can ask McKay, I've had a dopey grin on my face all day from your lovely comments! I'm really touched, thank you. If you would REALLY like your own Doctor Who dolls, I could probably be persuaded (I do love my felt). To cover labor and materials, it would probably be about $45 per doll, $150 for a TARDIS. I could be persuaded to give discounts if you order two or more dolls as well ;) Just shoot me an email if you want one for realsies, at juliabeesley@yahoo.com. Or, if Doctor Who isn't your poison of choice, I could branch out. Star Wars, Star Trek, Buffy, Zelda, Kingdom Hearts, etc etc, just let me know where your heart lies!

  Thanks again, guys. Seriously, you rock.

Why Dogs Wouldn"t Make Good Gardeners

 I mean, besides the whole eating-grass-rather-than-mowing-it, peeing-in-the-petunias, and short attention span, I can just see my parent's golden retriever doing this:

  But, then, I'd be impressed if Casey had raked the leaves in the first place.

Adrift in the Sea

  Malcolm needed time alone. What with the lay-off, the house fire, the zombie uprising (followed by the zombie rebellion against the zombie czar), the magic bean fiasco, and the local pizza boy slayer still on the loose, Malcolm just needed a breather. The sea spray in his face was a welcome reminder that there was a world beyond all that. A world full of cold, stinging saltiness, frigid night air, and the sickening rocking of the boat.

  Malcolm sighed with contentment.

Back in the Etsy Game!

  Hey, guys! I promise I haven't been neglecting my felt, I'm just having trouble downloading photos on McKay's computer since my laptop kicked the bucket (RIP, you lived a long, full life of four years, lappy). So, I'll try to figure that out, but in the meantime, I have uploaded all my remaining felties back on Etsy (some had expired in their listing, and some I had never gotten around to listing), so you can check them out HERE.

  Enjoy, and thanks for all your support, guys!

Baby Mobiles

  My original mobile was robot-themed, took over twenty hours, and did not turn out well. I was disappointed.

  WHY YOU TAKE SO LONG AND LOOK SO STUPID, ROBOT MOBILE?

  So, whales. Whales are cute. They're pretty flippin' awesome, too. And they make a heck of an easier mobile. So, I said to myself, "I make whale mobile, and it be awesome, or else." I imagine saying this to myself with an accent for some reason.

  So I cut out all the whale shapes, and then I was all, "You know what's cuter than whales?"

POLKA-DOT WHALES!

  Then I looked at them as I was about to stitch them up, and I was all, "You know what's cuter than polka-dot whales?"

  POLKA-DOT NARWHALS! 

   And, okay, yeah, the horn placement isn't quite right, but I prefer to think of narwhals as the whale equivalent of a unicorn. I seriously didn't know it was a real animal for the longest time. Because it's so cool, it should be mythical.

  You want to know how I did it? A lot of trial and error. My preferred method of craft, apparently. If you'll notice in the polka-dot whale picture, I accidentally put all the dots and eyes on the SAME SIDE of both whale sides. Meaning when I went to put them together, one side had all the stitches and knots and crap, and none of the polka-dot goodness. In my defense, I made this mistake sometime around 1 AM, but it still made me incredibly sad. I called McKay at work with my best Eeyore impersonation when I discovered my blunder the next morning.

  Anyhoo, want to see the finished product? Of course you do. Because it's narwhals, and they rock.

  The top level isn't quite level yet; that's a job for McKay. But other than that, I have to say this is one sweet mobile. But baby Lincoln deserves it--because he's going to be one flippin' awesome baby.

  Wanna know how long this labor of love took? When I was a child, my parents used to measure time in Wishbones. You remember Wishbone, right? This guy?

  Wishbone kicked Reading Rainbow's hiney in my mind. Anyway, on long car trips and such, I'd ask, "How much longer?" and Mom would say, "Twelve more Wishbones, Julia." Since each Wishbone was a half-hour, that meant there were six more hours of driving. 

   Well, my brother and sister-in-law recently gave me a very, very large VHS collection, including a considerable amount of Murder, She Wrote. Each tape of Murder, She Wrote includes two episodes, each one hour long. This is the number of tapes I went through while making the two mobiles:

   If baby Lincoln ever doubts my love, this picture is proof.

I Got Clouds on a Sunny Day

  Due to my pregnant hormones demanding I make things for the BABY BOY my husband and I are expecting in January, you may see a rise in the quotient of cuteness around here. The last few days I've been working like a mad woman to try to make a mobile, but I'm not sure how that's going to turn out yet. It's robot-themed, and after twenty-plus hours of working on it, I suddenly thought, "You know what's also cute? WHALES." So now I'm leaning towards making a whale mobile, but I'll still finish the robot one in case it sways me.

  I also whipped up this bad boy, for reasons unknown to mankind.

  I think it's mostly due to wishful thinking. Now that I've had months of sunny days, I'm ready to return to the coolness that is usually Oregon's specialty. GET WITH THE PROGRAM, OREGON!

   Any other ideas for baby boy themes?

You Don't Even Need a Rubber Ducky

  All my life, I have felt a bit embarrassed and out of place with society. I've often found myself wondering "Am I the only one out there? Why does no one else seem to feel the way I do?" with discomfort.

  And all because I love baths.

  Any other bath-lovers out there? Most people scoff at this in derision when they learn this tiny piece of my life, and I feel my face burn. But here's the thing--BATHS ARE SO GREAT! I mean, can you read awesome books while taking a shower? No. Nor do I find showers particularly relaxing, having to stand up the entire time. Plus, I have been raised to believe that a bath cures everything. Headache? Take a bath. Cramps? Take a bath. Whooping cough? Bath time!

  Sasha also often felt persecuted for her favorite relaxant. In fact, she was often given a wide berth from her community, and tears would fill her eyes as she would hear muttered comments of, "Bathes in her own filth--what is this, the fifteenth century? And it makes her smell so funny!". But even those hurtful words could not keep her turning on the faucet, draining half a bottle of smelling salts, and soaking to her favorite Ben E. King CD turned down low. This is what pure bliss looks like.

 

Punky Duckling

   Robbie was always different than his brothers and sisters. While they joyously sang songs from musicals on their outings (The Sound of Music primarily), he would slip on earphones and bang out to heavy metal. He, unlike them, despised his blonde hair, and decided to dye it teal. After his heart was broken by a local chick who ditched him for a goth, he decided to tattoo a heart on his arm, therefore always wearing his heart on his sleeve (which he considered rather deep and poetic of himself). And when his mother harped endlessly about his teal hair, he appeased her by shaving the sides of it off, and dyeing what was left bright pink.

  Teenage years are difficult.

Happy Father's Day! You Know, a Month Ago

  The day after I arrived in California was Father's Day. And I had not brought a gift. I quickly whipped out my felt and got to work.

"And They All Died, The End"

  This is so named for the bedtime stories my own father read to us (which might explain some things about my story-telling style). Under his care, Lizzy Bruin (friend of Sister Bear in the Berenstain Bears series), became Lizzy Borden. Sneetches on Beaches got caught in machinery with horrific ends. Grover was eaten by the monster at the end of the book. And so on, and so forth. But the IMPORTANT detail was always, "and they all died, the end."

  Jorgan was often read stories by his father as well. Jorgan's mother did not understand why he always required a lamp on in his room to fall asleep, but Jorgan knew better. Otherwise the artichoke-shaped monsters would gallumph out of his closet and from under his bed while he slept and nibble off his fingers. But, naturally, fluorescent light was the monster's natural enemy, so he was safe.

. . . as long as the bulb never went out.

Proof That Photographers Are Awesome

  As I'm sure you've been able to sense over the past few months, I am no photographer. Heck, I'm just glad if the thing's not blurry. So when my Aunt Diane (who is an amazing photographer, I had to beg for months for her to do my wedding photos) requisitioned a feltie, my immediate response was that I would be happy to, if she agreed to take pictures of it for me.

  A little background on this feltie: My cousin Tori, who is Aunt Diane's daughter, is dating a wonderful and handsome young man, Sone. They met in Hawaii, where Sone works climbing up coconut trees, I imagine for tourists' benefit. Tori often commented that he looked like a monkey climbing up the tree, which quickly became his nickname. For reasons none of us can quite figure out, Sone decided that proper retaliation was to call Tori "Tiger".

   Yeeeaaaah! Now THAT's photography! They're even more amazing when you blow them up.If you want to see more of my very talented Aunt Diane's photography click here.

Generic Mermaid Finds Generic Clown Fish

   Lest you think I got my inspiration for this feltie came from two popular children's movies, you're wrong. I must give credit where it's due, and the credit belongs to this awesome piece McKay and I spotted in Hawaii on our honeymoon.

  I cracked up for quite some time when I first saw it, and yesterday I decided the mermaid's discovery needed to be immortalized in felt.

  Who found Remo, the lost clown fish? Why, Iriel did, the spunky teenage mermaid! They're original characters, as the Simpson's Sherri Boppins would say, "Like Ricky Rouse and Monald Muck." The two spent many a happy hour together, and Remo even participated in Tebastian's song about how life in the ocean is far better than life on land. But after Iriel ignored all of their reasonable advice and gained legs from the sea wizard, Ersulan, Remo wandered away from his new group of friends and was quickly captured by divers. Who ate him.
The end.

  And, just because I've missed my kitty, I'm going to throw in a picture of Sylvester "helping" me.

  When he finally got up and ambled away, I discovered some of the glue from the rim of the background had gotten on my pants, causing a good section of cat fur to be glued to my favorite pair of pants. Hooray!

Ummm . . . Hi

  Hey, remember me? That person that had a goal, and was really good about it for two months? Yeah, sorry about that. I went on vacation for the last three weeks, with a goal to catch up on all my lagging. That didn't QUITE work out, but I did manage to bust three out (so at least I'm not MORE behind, right?).

  While staring around my general vicinity, I happened to see the game Apples to Apples lying around. Fun game. Anyway, I wondered what those apples on the cover were so dang happy about. Only a psychotic could be so happy about being a food that doctors recommend you eat one a day of. And those psychotics . . . what if they took the advice to heart?

  That's one bad apple.

Real Cats Wear Pink

  I know, I know, I've been terrible. A whole MONTH?? How did I let that happen? But, I promise, I'm getting back in the groove of things, and I'll try to whip up some more to share with you real soon.

 This is another one inspired from my cat (I sound really obsessed, don't I?). Have you ever watched a cat lick its legs clean? It's amazing, they have the best flexibility EVER. Anyway, I often make the comment that Sylvester should take up a new hobby.

 

  The ballet instructor made Janelle do one hundred plies. Discipline is everything, but unfortunately . . . they were cats.   

  I tried a new stitching style for this one, but I'm not sure I'm too keen on it. It took a lot longer, and I think it looks a little less "clean". Any opinions?

Chinese Isn't For Everyone

  Bobby's eyes darted left and right. No one was near. Now was his chance. He snuck the bag out and took a deep whiff.

  Ahhhh. That was the stuff.

  No one could know. It was very, very contraband. If he was found out, he could be ostracized for life.

  But it was worth it.

  He took a gigantic bite with a satisfactory "crunch!"

  It tasted like freedom.

Head in the Clouds

  Do you ever talk to someone and you realize they're just not "all there"? Their minds are obviously elsewhere, and you're just a distraction from that?

  Renaldo heard that a lot from his friends. He couldn't understand why, but they seemed to have this notion his head was in the clouds. He just refers to himself as a dreamer. In fact, he can often be heard humming "Dream On" to himself. Or so the birds report.

  Until, of course, for that ugly Delta incident. But that's a story for another day.

Awkward

  I like to think that everyone goes through an "awkward stage". I like to think this especially because my awkward stage was pretty dang bad, complete with baggy clothes, horrible acne, and a haircut that hadn't been cool in ten years.

  George was in this stage himself. He had thick glasses that the other kids made fun of, his weekends were spent at the local library where he sat alone, and he was in love with the most popular girl in school who had never once thought of, let alone noticed George. One day after school, he saw her sitting alone, snapping her gum, and looking forlornly over the ocean blue. But when she turned and saw him, she gave a small smile.
  "Now's my chance!" George thought, warm fuzzies shooting through his body. He sidled up over to her and, after five minutes of clearing his throat, he said, "Are you okay? You looked kind of sad sitting over here all by yourself."
  "I'm alright now." She said, still smiling. "Seeing you made me feel better."
  "Why's that?" George asked, his heart thrumming.
  "Well, it put things into perspective, I guess. Yeah, I live in a trailer, and my mom's new boyfriend borrows all our saving funds, and yeah, I'm flunking in every subject and I just found out my boyfriend is cheating on me. But at least I've never gotten my legs all tangled up and looked like a complete dufus in front of the entire school."
  The warm fuzzies short circuited. George looked down, turned red, then fled away. The experience so traumatized him, he decided to become a delinquent, hanging around beach shores, and stinging anyone who was foolish enough to venture close enough.
  Be nice to the awkward kids.

Because I Am a Crazy Cat Lady

  If you have a cat, you know that slavery is alive and well. And you are the slave. At least, to them. I know for a fact that my sweet Sylvester privately thinks of himself as an aristocratic millionaire, and McKay and I exist to serve him on bended knee.

  So, I give you: Sylvester as he sees himself.

 

    You gotta love a monocle/mustache combo.

"I Twy!"

  I learned in my child development class a few years back that children go through a "helpful" phase, where they want to involved in everything you do. I went through such a stage myself, and my mother wrote in my baby book that her heart would sink every time she would hear me say, "I twy!". It was usually when she was cooking, and it always meant she got to fish tiny pieces of egg shell out of the brownie mix for the next ten minutes. She was kind enough to (almost) always allow me to crack those eggs, though.

  Thinking about this, I couldn't help but think that kangaroos must really have a rough time with this stage.