A Scottie Goes Trick-or-Treating

Here's another migrated post from my first blog, SalmagundiExpress. I originally published this post on October 23, 2007:

Simulated pumpkins have been around for a few years now, but only recently did I realize you can actually carve them. The idea of a "permanent" jack-o-lantern doesn't really appeal to me, and I adore real pumpkins; so I've been pretty lukewarm toward the proliferation of polyester pumpkins (or whatever they're made out of).

This year, though, I've seen some intriguing creations with "altered pumpkins," so I broke down and bought two foam specimins when they were on sale at Michael's recently. 

I've seen the vintage and folk art Halloween sites showing resin pumpkins with designs carved on their sides: witches, reproductions of old-fashioned Halloween decorations, autumn scenes, mottos, etc. I wondered if I could do something like that with one of the simulated pumpkins I bought.

My mother collects scotties, and she doesn't have a single scottie item related to Halloween. I thought some kind of scottie scene on the side of a pumpkin would be unique, and something maybe I could carry off.

I have a diecut scottie gift tag in what I consider the ideal scottie shape. I used that as my template and traced the scottie outline on the pumpkin with a ball point pen. Then I freehand-sketched the other elements I wanted, making things up as I went. (I'd make a terrible artist. I hate to plan things out ahead of time. For me, the creative process is all about the slow reveal as a project develops, with chance and chaos playing their parts in producing the final result.) Naturally, things were a little lopsided and uneven, but generally I was satisfied with the bare bones of the design on the pumpkin's surface.

I knew I wanted all the lines of the design etched into the pumpkin for an engraved effect, but I wasn't sure of the best way to do that. I browsed the various electronic tools available at the craft stores, but I wasn't sure any of them would be appropriate. (Woodburning would have created just the effect I wanted -- if these pumpkins were made of wood. However, there's a big "warning" sticker on the bottom of each pumpkin that says "Flammable," so applying any kind of heat at all, even with an embossing gun, was too big a risk to take.)

Finally, I remembered I'd gotten a simple linoleum block print kit for Christmas, which I'd never opened. I tried the smallest carving point, and it was adequate for engraving lines of my scottie design.

However, it was MESSY, with flecks of plastic all over the place; and it was time-consuming. It was effective, though, and I was happy to move on to the next step of my project.

Here's where I learned an unfortunate fact about working with simulated pumpkins: Everything stains the surface. Even a simple line of ballpoint pen ink is impossible to remove. I tried Scrubbing Bubbles, rubbing alcohol, plain old Dawn and water, cleanser, hairspray, and Alcohol Ink solution. All I did was disturb the surface to the point I was afraid the orange would start to flake away. I was stuck with many wayward pen marks and not sure what to do about them.

Instead of worrying about it, I got out a bottle of acrylic craft paint in black. I dabbed it over the lines a little at a time, then wiped away the paint to leave the carved lines filled in. Immediately I learned that acrylic paint also didn't want to come off the pumpkin's surface. This time, though, the effect wasn't so bad. It left just enough darkness behind to create a antiqued effect, including crazing. This also helped camouflage some of my pen marks. (Again, this part of the process was very messy.)

The final step was to paint in parts of the design to make them stand out. This worked pretty well, and it didn't take nearly as much time to complete as the previous steps. To make the painted sections pop a little more, I brushed a couple of thin coats of matte acrylic varnish over them. (This, I hoped, would also offer some protection to the paint.) I'd thought of coating the whole thing with matte spray, but I could just imagine my entire pumpkin melting before my eyes. (This once happened to me as a teenager when I tried to spray paint some Styrofoam balls to make Christmas ornaments. It was a horrifying experience.)

Mom was pleased with her one-of-a-kind scottie Halloween decoration (although my sister, Diamonqueen, mocked it; and J. Hooligan called it "ridiculous"); and I was pleased with the outcome of my experiment to craft with a fake pumpkin. I don't intend to try this again, though, unless someone comes up with a better technique than mine. I still have that other simulated pumpkin, and I've yet to decide what I want to do with that.

Craft Project -- Make a Halloween Wand

I'm migrating some posts from my original blog, SalmagundiExpress, that relate to crafts or needlework. I didn't have a full post on this, but it's an easy project, so I thought I'd give the instructions here, expanded from the original.


1) Choose a photo or image for the front of your wand. The photo above, a shot of my brother and me in our Halloween costumes back in the '50s, was originally black-and-white. I tinted it digitally before printing it out to make this wand. You can also use stickers, images cut out of magazines, or other embellishments to decorate your wand instead of a photo.

2) If using a photo, print it out in the correct size to fit on the front of your wand. Make it a little smaller yet if you want to frame it first by gluing it to a piece of patterned paper, as I did with this wand. Set aside.

 3) Paint a paper mache box black. If you're making a rattle, put the gravel or other items in the box now, then glue the lid in place so it can't come off. Cover the top of the lid with Halloween-style scrapbook paper.

4) Cut a wooden dowel the desired length and paint it orange with craft paint. The dowel should be about 1/2" in diameter so it won't snap when carrying the wand.

5) Make an X-slit in the side of the box where you want the dowel to go through as a handle for the wand. You could also try a drill, but be careful with a power drill and don't use a drill bit bigger than the dowel. Paper mache is sturdy but not impenetrable; cutting or punching a hole in the side shouldn't be too hard.

6) Cut a strip of patterned paper for the ruffle. Make sure the strip will be long enough to go around the wand head after folding, or you can overlap two strips and glue them down. Fold the strip like an accordian, then tie the folded paper, with one end short and the other longer. Fan out the longer end to create the ruffle, gluing the ends of the long folded side together so it resembles a ruffled wreath. Use tape, if you prefer.

6) Glue the ruffled wreath to the back of the paper mache box, with the box centered in the middle of the ruffle. This could get tricky as the folds may not want to adhere to the box well. If you use glue, let it dry thoroughly before you try to move the wand. You could also try taping the ends of the short folds to the box.

This step is optional, but if you want the back to look more finished, cut a circle of patterned paper and glue it to cover the folded ends of the ruffle.

7) Put some glue around the hole you cut or drilled into the side of the paper mache box. Insert about 1" of the dowel into the hole. Add additional glue once the dowel is in place. If you prefer, place a collar of glued paper or tape around the dowel and hole so the dowel won't slip out. Let the glue dry thoroughly before you move the wand.

Patterned duct tape is another possibility for securing the dowel in the hole; you could even extend the tape down the dowel, winding it barber pole fashion.

8) Glue the photo or other embellishments to the front of the wand. Add glitter glue, if you like. Tie black ribbon around the dowel where it enters the box for an added touch.

Read the rest of the original post, minus the wand directions, at Nudged to Write.

Fall Mood Means More Needlework and Crafts

At the Velvet Ice Cream
Factory grounds in
Utica, Ohio.

I've really neglected this blog, which is obvious by the July 7 date stamp on my most "recent" post. However, with the arrival of fall and increased creativity in the needlework and crafts areas, I'm feeling energized about Come to the NudgeryFaire again.

Not that I've been idle. I've been keeping up with my writing blog, Nudged to Write, and started a blog about the local county fair that actually inspired my interest in things like embroidery and crochet. That blog is called The Late, Great Carthage Fair. There I'm talking more about the history of the fair and my memories going back to childhood in the late '50s and early '60s. I did do one post about my first entry at the fair in 1969, and I'm going to cross-post it here.

I also want to continue to move posts from my first blog, Salmagundi Express; I'm going to focus on the fall-related posts there over the coming weeks.

And I've added quite a few items to my Etsy shop, including my first beaded jewelry pieces. More on that in later posts.

Amish farmer tending his fields near Berlin, Ohio.

In the meantime, I'm including a couple of shots in this post of Amish country in northern Ohio. My mother and I took that trip a couple of weeks ago, and it was lovely, as usual. And Mom, a devoted quilter, had lots of fun looking through all the great fabric shops in Holmes County and the general area.

Finally, if you're into knitting, you might enjoy my sister's blog at The Warden's Log. She started knitting last spring, and I'm amazed at how she's taken off with it. She discusses her triumphs and challenges with the knitting needles, links to free patterns, and displays her various projects. She also writes great pieces about "the Inmates," her two kids. Enjoy!

Horse on hilltop near Charm, Ohio.

Camp Fire Girl Beads Necklace

One of my current items on Etsy is a crocheted necklace using vintage Camp Fire Girl beads. [Update: This necklace sold on 7/19/11!] Although I was a Bluebird, I never was a full-fledged Camp Fire Girl. However, I knew all about their beads and patches and would have loved to amass my own collection. I also was enchanted with the idea of having a Native American-style gown on which to sew my beads. I read about this option in the Camp Fire Girls handbook, which for whatever reason I asked to receive for my birthday when I was 11 or 12.

The only patch I earned as a Bluebird was red felt with a campfire printed on it in gold. I earned it by selling Christmas candy, although my sales were meager, mostly to family. Sometime in the months following, my mother washed my Bluebird vest, with the patch sewn to it, and the patch came out looking like a pot scrubber. Mom diligently tired to paint over the remnants of the campfire with gilt paint, but it still wasn't a very stately-looking patch. I don't think I stayed with Bluebirds very long after that, although it had nothing at all to do with the mutant patch. I've simply never been much of a joiner.

I did suffer a disappointment when I was 11. My girlfriends convinced me to come with them to Camp Fire Girls daycamp. The literature clearly said non-members were welcome, although I think my parents had to pay a higher fee. Each week I rode the bus with my Camp Fire Girl friends, dressed in a white school blouse and navy blue shorts, the sit-upon my mother sewed for me looped over my belt and a frozen canteen sweating rivulets down the side of my shorts and trickling down the rubber-matted floor of the bus. (It wasn't my fault; the literature said to freeze the canteen so the water would be cold when I needed it.)

For several weeks I did everything the Camp Fire Girls did: We made sand paintings; built a fire and cooked a lunch of ham, pineapple, and sweet potato wrapped in foil and roasted in the fire; took nature hikes; and swept the floor of the primitive lodge building. The finale was to be a campfire ceremony in which beads would be awarded. I was thrilled; except our leader told us to wear our vests and neckerchiefs.

"I don't have a vest," I told her. "I'm not in Camp Fire Girls."

"How did you get into this camp if you're not a member?" the leader wondered aloud, embarrassing me because it seemed as if I'd sneaked in. She consulted an authority in the camp and said wearing my usual blouse and shorts would be fine.

My mother, sympathetic to my feeling of being slightly ostracized, even offered to buy me a vest, but I knew that wasn't the answer. I got over it and was ticked, actually, that the leader didn't know the camp allowed non-members. When you're naturally not a joiner in things, you don't sweat too much about being an outsider.

I don't remember now if Mom or anyone else raised the question of whether I would get any beads if I wasn't a Camp Fire Girl. Maybe I even wondered myself but pushed the possibility to the back of my brain. I allowed myself to be optimistically expectant as we seated ourselves around the campfire in a council-like setting.

I waited and waited for my name to be called to come up and get my beads, watching as each of my friends trotted up for their tiny string of beads, looking quite proud. When all the names but mine had been called and the program moved on to a final sing-along, I was so disappointed I almost cried. I didn't have to feign polite interest in my friends' beads--I really did want to see and touch them--but I don't think I talked much. The lump in my throat made it too hard.

For awhile I "played" at getting beads by buying bags of plastic tube beads at Woolworth's. For just a dime I could purchase a small sack of quite a few beads in pale colors. For 29 cents a larger sack would swell my supply. I'd scatter them all out on the living room rug, sorting them by color and driving my mother nuts. I'd pretend certain colors represented certain accomplishments; I even made jewelry such as the necklaces and bracelets in the Camp Fire Girls handbook. They were bulky things, with the thin beads strung on yarn.

My collection of beads ceased to be the autumn I was 12. Mom had made me the coveted squaw dress out of muslin the year before, and I'd sewn on a few beads. For Halloween, though, I went all out, stringing long garlands of beads which I tacked all over the front of the gown. I didn't use the yarn, apparently, but must have turned to sewing thread. The ropes of beads broke one after the other while I walked to the party, played games, and knelt for a picture. By the time I went home, my supply was depleted, but I'd grown beyond playing pretend with my beads anyhow. In a few weeks I would start a journal, or "notebook" as it was called in Harriet the Spy, and thus began a whole new phase of my life.

I think that awards ceremony disappointment led to my fascination with Camp Fire Girl beads as well as winning awards of my own. A few years later I started entering the county fair, putting my needlework and crafts in competition with adults. The second year I got my first ribbons; the third year I won my first rosette. I was gluttonous about accumulating awards of all kinds for decades and have only recently slowed down. I've won ribbons, rosettes, engraved silver bowls, certificates, trophies and medals for needlework, crafts, some cooking, writing, poetry, clogging, and Irish dancing. Never, though, a string of painted wooden beads or an embroidered patch.

That's probably why, when I spotted a jar of Camp Fire Girl beads at an antique mall for a low price, I pounced, even though I had no idea what I would do with them. So far I've used only the red, white, and blue citizenship/patriotism beads and some round red beads. I'm still thinking how to use up the rest.

My sister has written blog posts about her patch envy as my niece earned her Girl Scout Daisy patches; this week she revisited the subject, blogging about my niece participating in the Loveland, Ohio 4th of July parade as a newly ordained Brownie. I guess this awards thing just runs in the family.

Getting Into Knitting

I'm very accomplished at many different types of needlework, but getting into kitting hasn't worked all that well for me. I've told myself that knitting is extremely popular and all kinds of stitchers are able to do it, but I'm simply not as comfortable with knitting as I am with crocheting. Maybe it's more exacting (I find it's easier to "fudge" in crochet), maybe it's less forgiving, for me, when it comes to correcting mistakes; I have no trouble ripping out rows of crocheting in any project and picking up again where I need to, but in knitting I'm totally thrown off.

I finally accomplished a very basic sock pattern, so at least I can make simple woolen socks for winter wear. That's pragmatic, though. When it comes to stitching for enjoyment, I reach for my crocheted lace books or hand quilting or find thread embroidery. I was the same way with tatting and bobbin lace. I won best of show at the Ohio State Fair in tatting, and even managed a blue ribbon in bobbin lace (and knitted lace, for that matter), but I don't gravitate back to these arts. Maybe it's something about the way the mind is wired. I've read stories where scientists or chess champions also did bobbin lace or complex knitting. 

My sister, also an experienced crocheter and needleworker, decided to give knitting a try earlier this spring. She's moved right along, attempting stitches and techniques I had to abandon simply after reading the instructions. Even at the dishrag stage, she dove into patterns I was too intimidated to try, such as designs with cables. She was brave enough last month to attempt a dog sweater pattern (free from the Lion Brand website, if you want to register and check it out) for the latest member of the family, Jimmi (a March adoption from Recycled Doggies). It took her a few tries, sampling different patterns and adjusting for chest measurements, but Jimi now has a new sweater. And my sister is courageously pressing forward as a converted knitter. Congratulations to her! Maybe she can make me some really swell socks for Christmas.

Two More Vintage Button Projects

As I mentioned in the previous post, I had some button projects included under my byline in the book Busy with Buttons by Jill Gorski. I have the other two projects I made for the book on sale now in my Etsy shop. The altered antique cabinet card is something anyone can do--although I recommend NOT doing it with a family photo. (Those are precious and rare, and someday you might want to scan that image and share it with relatives who are doing genealogy.)

I used an old cabinet card I bought in a photo lot on eBay, unidentified except for the photography studio. This kind of project can use up old buttons, lace and other trims, ribbon, and even scrapbook papers. In other words, just about anything you might have in your stash. Combining vintage trims and embellishments with an antique photo gives it special authenticity and charm. Local antique malls probably have old cabinet photos for very reasonable prices.

Another item you may find for a dollar or two at antique malls and flea markets is the stereoview card. Stereoviews are the long cards with double photos that create a 3D effect when viewed through a stereoptican. Rare historical stereoviews can be pretty pricey, and even cards that picture desirable locations can cost more; but stereoviews that show generic scenes can be a bargain and offer some interesting inspiration for embellishments. The altered stereoview I created for Busy With Buttons and now have for sale on Etsy shows a wedding scene. Naturally, I chose lace snippets and elegant antique buttons to go with the theme. Your own creativity will suggest ways to embellish stereoview cards, which make interesting and attractive doorknob hangers when tied with lengths of ribbon. Just be sure the stereoview you choose to work with isn't valuable; you wouldn't want to discover later you glued buttons and paper scraps to a desirable collector's item.

My Button Quilt Hanging on Etsy

One of the items I currently have for sale on Etsy is this miniature whole cloth quilt hanging with vintage fabric-covered buttons. I made this when I was working as an associate editor at Krause/F+W Media. We needed some additional projects for the book Busy With Buttons by Jill Gorski. I created three projects and wrote up the directions; all three were included under my byline in the book.

This project is a fun, simple way to use any kind of button; it's especially nice to feature fabric-covered buttons from old dresses. The material and pattern of the fabric can be unusual, and it provides an authentic record of fabrics of the past.

Redwork from The Workbasket

NOTE: This 11/13/99 post is migrated from my old blog, SalmagundiExpress.

Today one of the books I've been editing, Redwork from The WORKBASKET, went to production, another step closer to being published, although the book doesn't come out until next spring.

I've had a special place in my heart for this book, by contributing editor Rebecca Kemp Brent, from the start. Although it's really a machine embroidery book, the designs are taken directly from vintage embroidery transfers from The WORKBASKET, a great old magazine I remember my mother getting back in the 60s. Twenty years later, I started buying vintage copies in antique malls for the wonderful crochet and tatting patterns. I won a lot of ribbons making projects from old WORKBASKETs.

A little over a year ago I learned that Krause Publications, an imprint of the company I work for, F+W Media, actually owns The WORKBASKET. That means we have all that content at our disposal, including those fabulous embroidery transfers.

The designs were redrawn directly from the original transfers and digitized for machine embroidery. Since I've always been into hand embroidery (well, nearly always -- I started doing needlework regularly when I was about twelve), the part about this project that excites me is that all 100 vintage designs are in JPEG and PDF formats on the disk that comes with the book. That means anyone who's as crazy about embroidery as me can print these designs right off the disk and create a fresh embroidery transfer.

I did the hand embroidery samples for the book, which was fun. I stitched a redwork horse head, which is an unbelievable design, on a dishtowel and two pillowcases with morning glory designs in hand-dyed and variegated thread. Rebecca has some wonderful projects in the book, but since I don't do machine sewing either, I won't be attempting the bed quilt very soon. But my fingers literally itch to tackle more of those embroidery patterns!

Welcome to NudgeryFaire

NudgeryFaire is the name of my Etsy shop, where I sell a variety of handmade items and the occasional vintage treasure. It's also the name of this blog, where I'll be updating the items for sale on Etsy, posting about crafts and needlework, and offering the occasional free embroidery pattern. Please come back often! (If you're a writer and like writing prompts, which I call "nudges," also visit my site Nudged to Write.)