Yarn Factory

I've been trying not to think about how much money I've donated to JoAnn this summer - between the Who scarf (still extremely unfinished), the sewing machine (an adorable mini-machine I've named Grell), and the fabric for the play (lime green and chocolate brown), I have enough craft supplies to last me a very long time.

So naturally, when they were having a gigantic yarn sale, I went back and spent still more money I got some teeny tiny double point knitting needles and a ton of very soft yarn for my secret plushie project. I can't tell the details of this secret plushie project, but it involves knitting adorable plushies and selling them at small-town cons for a tidy markup.

HuHuHu CORRUPT.

I'm actually very excited about this project - merch is expensive, and although I have little to no business or crafting background (hmm) I'm trying to create an adorable plushie that uses minimal materials (see: small) and knitting time (see: college student) but looks good, and can thus be sold for a reasonably low price while still keeping the crafter in food (see also: broke).

Or, given my personal record with things like follow-through, the secret plushie project involves knitting myself an adorable plushie. I have a foot and half of a pant leg so far on prototype plushie. I'll call him P.


Epilogue:
I have a secret desire to quit drama school and become a craft enchantress. With a craft factory in my living room. And cats.

This is a big development, because my usual "What if I quit drama school?" fantasies tend to involve handsome young husbands, children, and a California teaching credential. Not that this is a bad thing, but... I'm spending too much money on drama school to become a mother anytime soon. And my life isn't big on the handsome young husband thing. I can count the straight boys I'm on speaking terms with on one hand.