Mario and Luigi hats - the best ever

How to make the best Mario and Luigi hats, a do it yourself step by step guide.

Mario, the character from Mario Bros Nintendo DS and his brother Luigi, have their two greatest "fans" here in jolly old San Jose, as the "Italian" genes are in the "blood." Here is the answer for fans worldwide.

Mario

Luigi

This is basically a knitted oversized Tam O’Shanter. You do not need to be a good knitter as when the hat is felted [boiled alive to shrink] small mistakes are unnoticeable.

Measure the circumference of the child’s head just above the eyebrows and ears or wherever you want the hat to ‘sit.’ Find a saucepan or bowl* with the same circumference for later to act as a ‘form’ to support the drying hat.

Use pure wool as man made materials do not shrink. [ I have an unshrinkable prototype hat big enough for an average sized East Indian elephant if anyone's interested?] Take care to match the colour well, although the colour may not show true on the photographs.





Cast on 90 stitches on large size 10 USA circular needles. Knit 5 continuous rounds [take care at the point where you join the circle to avoid kinks and twists]
Row 6, purl [this forms a seam that will fold to make the headband]



Row 7 , knit
Knit 4 more rounds.





Take a second smaller circular needle. Pick up the original 90 cast on stitches from the lower [cast on] edge
Align both needles and knit one stitch from the front needle and one stitch from the back needle together, continue to the end of the round. This forms the headband.
Continue on the larger needle.
Increase row = Knit one, knit one and make one knitwise into the second stitch. Continue for the next round = 135 stitches. Continue to knit 26 rounds on these 135 stitches.

Begin shaping brim / crown.





Knit 9, knit two together, repeat to end.
Knit three rounds without decreasing
Knit 8, knit two together, repeat to end.
Knit three rounds.
Knit 7, knit two together, repeat to end
Knit one round
Knit 6, knit two together, repeat to end
Knit one round
[if it’s getting to tight for you to work on a circular needle transfer to four size 10 pins]
Knit 5, knit two together, repeat to end
Knit one round
Knit 4, knit two together, repeat to end
Knit one round
Knit 3, knit two together, repeat to end
Knit one round
Knit 2, knit two together, repeat to end
Knit one round
Break yarn with a long tail
Find a crochet hook and slip through remaining stitches, pull tight.
With a darning needle thread the tail through to the inside.
Weave through the material loosely







Pick up 35 stitches from the folded / pleated edge. Use the circular needle but you will be knitting back and forth not round and round. Knit the next seven rows [garter stitch]
8th row decrease one at each end.
Knit 5 rows.
13th row decrease one stitch at each end
knit 1 row
*15th row cast off five stitches knit to end, turn.
16th row cast of five stitches knit to end , turn.*
* repeat twice
Cast off remaining stitches and sew in the tail of yarn.

Now the fun begins = felting.

Set your washing machine to the hottest setting with a little soap and the greatest agitation. Plunge the hat into the hot water and poke it a bit. Yank it out at one minute intervals to check shrinkage / felting. It’s hit and miss but you can do it! When it looks felted remove from the machine and plunge into cold water bowl in the sink. Rinse out any remaining soap. Squeeze out excess water.





Attack your hat with vigour to stretch and pull it into the correct shape and size. Stuff with a old towel to maintain shape and ram it on your bowl.* Place the bowl with the hat on a folded bath towel in a warm spot to dry over the next 24 hours.






Whilst it dries make the badge. This is where your magic marker comes in. As white wool does not shrink and felt reliably, you will need to buy a small square of regular felt from your local retailer. Cut out a circle of stiff plastic from your re-cycling supplies with a disc of white felt to match. Take a fine sharpie pen, red or green and carefully copy the logo onto the white felt disc. Bear in mind that if this step is not accurate you might as well throw the hat away and give up completely. Glue the felt to the plastic disc. When dry attach a small snib of Velcro to the back, the hook part so that it will snag on the hat. Place the disc in the centre and voila! Custom fit and made to measure.

You may also adapt the design for non-Mario fans.

Just in case you are wondering who in their right mind would go to such trouble, I can tell you with complete confidence that it was worth every stitch, as well as the three prior failures.

My one worry was that they would be itchy. My daughter, the one with half a yard of protective hair curtain, assured me that it is indeed itchy. I dithered over linings but, and oh what a but it is, my tactile defensive wunder kind has had that thing rammed on his head for 24 hours straight.



Now I shall patent my pattern to Patons. Overnight we shall become millionaires of fortune and all will be well, as a significant percentage of the world’s population sport Mario and Luigi hats, men and women marked for life with the irrepressible



insignia of ‘special,’ as they itch their way through life.





There again, I already feel like a millionaire with none of the bothersome business of reality.

Hosted by "Tracy" at "Mother May I," but the photo-picture below will whizz you right there with one click.

Just call me snap happy.

Here are some additional useful links:-

How to sew one from "felt"

Variations on a "Theme."

Other inventive "families."

Another sewn version with "panels."

Buy one from "Etsy" with "Mario Mushrooms."

A more traditional "baseball cap" version.

Some stitchery "wizardry."

A "stunning" "paper" version.

"Yoshi" food for those who prefer to cook rather than sew or knit.

Cheers dears

Failing to face Fall

I watch his laborious progress from a distance, the kitchen, as he reassembles his nest at the bottom of the stairs at 5:25 a.m. on a Sunday. He reinserts his little body back into the neat fold, extends his arms and drags himself, the duvet and half a dozen furry friends towards the family room. His spindle arms tire every three or four pulls across the smooth hardwood floors, so he pauses. I do not offer assistance nor comment. I wait. The weather has turned chilly after dark but they both refuse nightwear. This is his version of self help, self initiated and without a murmour of protest.

Their bedroom is the furthest distance away. A narrow corridor of hardwood floors, a U bend and a staircase. I wait until the whole caboodle reaches the edge of the carpet, where the resistance stops his progress. He is forced to slip out of the nest and haul it onto the sofa. Our eyes meet. He leap toes across to me for a silent backwards hug as his chicken ribs shiver. It’s about all one can reasonably expect following such a marathon of effort. I’m glad to be on the radar at all. He dashes back to safety and burrows under the duvet. I sit down next to him for a moment of continued silence and heavy breathing after all his exertions.
“Do you know what?”
“Wot?”
“I think perhaps pyjamas might be an easier way to start the day?” He nestles in closer without a word.

We’ll see.

Some kind of hero

Get the code:-
Cut and paste
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Generally speaking, I use ‘electronics time’ to be productive. However, the new Wii game, guitar hero, proves to be quite a challenge. There’s the issue of finger isolation, co-ordination and any number of different skills that prove insurmountable but tantalizingly tempting for the junior members of the household. Personally, I’d rather watch paint dry, but it takes all sorts I suppose.

Although the persevere to master these new skills, the ratio of grief to joy is not favourable. I need ear plugs for the wailing let alone the actual music itself. I expect a plastic guitar to be hurled with every passing missed note. As a result my own productivity reaches at all time low as they cannot be left unsupervised unless I wish to risk yet another trip to the ER. I have no choice but to be pro-active in the learning department. There will be no 30 minute cooking session, more of an un-jamming lesson.

Negative talk in the self hatred category, swirls around the room. For myself, I merely loathe the new toy which has provoked so much angst. Two thirds off the original retail price, still means ‘no sale’ in my ledger. The general opinion is that bed-time and or sleep, is cancelled until further notice, or rather, until someone manages to conquer the hero. This is the worst possible outcome, regardless of perspective.

Fury caused by frustration, quickly provokes incoherence. We are now tuneless, toneless and teetering on the edge. I snatch it away rudely before mayhem ensues, “my turn I think!” I yell just loud enough to make myself heard. Teary eyes blink in bewilderment. Swathes of snot adorn biceps as they visibly brighten. My daughter unwraps her head from her arms. For the moment I lack both purpose and practice. My working theory is that there is nothing like watching your mother fail miserably, to make everything seem a whole lot better.

Much to my surprise, everyone is remarkably helpful. Without words they put my hands in the right position, push button, select different programmes and generally get me organized in my role as novice. Whilst they are agreed that I am useless, there is some dissent as to whether I am a ‘beginner’ or ‘easy?’ The consensus of opinion is that I am now ready for my debut. Fortunately I can count and my fingers work. They watch in awe and clap and make complimentary and appropriate statements of praise. On completion they fiddle around with baffling statistics to declare that I am 98% something or other.

“Right! So now we shall let the guitar rest over night whilst we all go to bed,” I announce, turning to place the instrument out of reach on the top of the armoire. When I turn back, I see my sons on the floor at my feet before me, whispering something incomprehensible. As they kneel, their bodies rise and fall, eyes closed, palms clasped together. My daughter giggles on the couch, a silent observer. “What are they doing? What are they saying?” I demand, with hands on hips, weary, so weary. She beams as she stands, ready to retire, “we worship you……..got it from a cartoon I think.”

A blatant, but nonetheless welcome lie.

Where on the stair? Right there!

At ten minutes to five in the morning, the festive day commences amid much noise. The noise is more of less continuous during the numerous hours that follow. At some indistinct moment amongst all the hub bub, my son shouts at no-one in particular, “I can hear something.” This strikes me as a little of an understatement under the circumstances. As no-one pays him much heed, he repeats the sentence for everyone’s benefit. Beneficial or otherwise, he grabs me by the hand in a splendid display of ‘hand leading’ and off we clop to nowhere in particular. Once we are on the landing, mid-way up the staircase, he slams on the brakes unexpectedly. Our collision is bumpy but soft, “oopsie…..sorry Mom.”
“That’s o.k. dear………why are we here?”
“Dah noise.”
“Hmm yes it is a bit quieter over here isn’t it?”
“No! Can you hear it?”
“Hear what?”
“Dah noise?”
“Which noise?” He splays a fingertip on the wall and looks at it meaningfully. Horray for joint attention. Like many a housebound parent, I keep a close inventory of every stick and stone in the house. I am familiar with every squeak, crack and whine in any cornice. I am so incredibly skilled at this task I can even tell what has broken merely by the sound, even though I may never previously heard the sound of any particular precious item smashed before.

I await enlightenment.

He nods his head towards the artexed surface, the one with the odd hole, scratch and tide mark at a three foot level. “Put your thing on it!” he commands.
“Put my what on what dear?” He models for me, as he puts his shell like against the wall, since the word for ‘ear’ has escaped him. I stand next to my son with my ear stuck to the wall as his eye balls bore into mine, “can yah hear it now?” I hear nothing. I cannot hear anything because I have my ear on a wall. “Listen!” he barks as he places a finger to his lips. I listen. Suddenly I hear it too, all sorts of unfamiliar yet familiar noises that I cannot for the life of me identify.

“What is it mom?”
“I’m sure I haven’t got the foggiest?” I only hope that there is insufficient room for a mouse, or mice or a nest of mice with many, many little relatives. He looks at me with an expression of vague disappointment until he has a much better idea, a brilliant solution to his problem, “I know! I ask Dad!” he abandons me on landing in search of someone far more useful, who he finds at the bottom of the stairs as they collide, “oopsie, sorry Dad.”
“That’s o.k. No damage done. What’s going on here then, you’re missing all the fun?”
“He wants to know what that noise is, the one in the wall?” I summarize with a hint of sarcasm and a tad of obtuse.
“Oh that’s just the vibrations.”
“?”
“You know, the noises outside are amplified, like traffic, cars and the like. It’s the same as when you put a seashell to your ear.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“Of course Mom…..like dad said.”
“But there isn’t any traffic. It’s Christmas day.”
“Maybe not down our street, but we’re only a few miles from the motorway.”
“?”
“He….he…..he means freeway mom.”
“Oh thank you dear.”

Go on….....…try it….....…..stick your ear to an outside wall and tell me what you hear?

Shucks! Darnit!

Autism with speech delay can be a source of great frustration and annoyance, primarily for the speaker.

So many words are difficult to pronounce that an approximation becomes the norm until musculature matures with practice and time. If it wasn’t already annoying enough to deal with such daily challenges, every so often someone arbitrarily changes the rules. For instance, there is one particular word, one of many, that causes no end of angst, namely ‘evening.’ We know what evening means. We have a vague notion about when it occurs but it is virtually impossible to pronounce. We have learned to accept that for the time being ‘ eve nin,’ is more than good enough.

But once a year during the month of December, some foolish people refer to a particular reference point, namely ‘Christmas Eve.’ ‘Christmas’ we get, but ‘eve,’ although easier to say, is a shackle, one that causes no end of frustration. It falls into a category of many other words, words that are more than two syllables and familiar. If you are used to saying ‘Massachusetts’ with ease and flair, it is very difficult to stop yourself from pronouncing the last syllable, as suddenly the last syllable is surplus to requirements. You should try it some time if you doubt me, Massachu hold your ‘setts,’ Mississip and hold the ‘pi,’ the Marquis of Queensbur and hold the ‘y.’ It’s so grossly unfair. For some reason our brains and tongues refuse to stop, as the last sound is irresistible. Hence we experience a great deal of pain with the word ‘eve’ which keeps running into ‘eve nin’ or pops out as ‘eva’ when the brakes are rammed on really hard.

For current purposes we shall gloss over the competing issue, the time bomb, that declares that a whole day cannot be an ‘eve.’

As Christmas Eve approaches, I think it would be aesthetically pleasing to lie. To explain that my darling son came to me on that precious night, as the candles flicker in the warmth of twilight, to articulate the word ‘eve’ into my shell like ear, a gift like none other and we all lived happily ever after…….or some such nonsense. The truth however, is far less neat and tidy. This time next year, or maybe the year after, I’m confident that he will continue to grow and these difficulties will lessen, but for the time being we are left with the current exchange rate, daily, that goes a bit like this:-

“Ooo I am love!”
“Yes I know you love Christmas dear.”
“When is Eva…..? Shucks darnit!”
“Lets look at the chart together and you can tick off another day.”

Quite soon Eva will be gone from his repetoire. I think I almost miss her already.

Wordless - Special Exposure Wednesday

Three and counting......




herding continues.......




Shepherdess gives up and joins in, all four of my lovelies!


Seasonal Greetings from me and mine to you and yours.



If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

Absolutely Crackers - 2 for the price of one

Peppermint Creams
You will need:-
1 lb of icing / powdered sugar
a few drops of oil of peppermint / essence
Green food colouring
The whites [only] of 2 medium sized eggs
Tiny cookie cutters
Icing pens and or draggees to decorate

Whip the white to the soft peak stage, add peppermint drops and a slick of food colouring. Gradually mix in the icing sugar to form a stiff dough.




Dust a board with more icing sugar and roll out the dough. Tap the cutter into the sugar so that it doesn’t stick when you cut through the dough. Put the cut pieces on greaseproof or parchment paper to ‘crust.’

Decorate and box up.




Precautionary notes:-


Ensure all participating children have full tummies prior to commencement otherwise you have two choices, make twice as much to permit half to be consumed and still have enough left over to produce a worthwhile gift. Crumbs are not generally considered gift worthy.

Languid children, the type that drape themselves Daliesque over the kitchen counters are not much help when it comes to cooking, but sometimes mere observation and joint attention is a bonus.

Those who fear raw eggs may prefer to use dried Albumen available from all good delicatessens. Also handy for making manky merginues at short notice for those so inclined.

These make ideal gifts for the diabetics in your life as it enables the recipient to demonstrate and model good sharing habits. Rather than eat the gift of candy instead they may offer them back to the giver. This has the added bonus of making the giver realize just how wonderful it is to receive, in a roundabout manner which acts as a positive reinforcer whilst permitting the blood sugar levels of the recipient to remain under control.

Do not concern yourself with E numbers of the ‘icing pens’ as anyone who consumed 4 ounces of sugar is already airborn.




I heard on the radio today that in Japan the gift wrap is as important as the gift within, so here’s a quick trick to make your present more special.







1. You will need reflective paper, tissue, toilet paper rolls, glue stick and decorative wire.



2.
Wrap your very important insignificant gift in tissue paper so that it doesn’t get lost. Insert into the toilet roll.



3. Cut a piece of reflective paper in a rectangle twice the size of the roll. Secure outer edge with a slick of glue. Roll and secure the other end.



4. Tie wire at both ends to form cracker.







5. Make as many as possible or as many as your bathroom supplies allow.







If your decorative wire moults stick the debris on the outside as extra decorations.

This reflective paper is more like plastic to the touch and therefore less abhorrent. The wire is far easier to manipulate than sticky tape which tends to end up everywhere except where you really want it. These are the best kind of crackers for us as they are bangless, a not insignificant bonus.

Social stories - a potential pet pitfall

Hosted by "Tracy" at "Mother May I," but the photo-picture below will whizz you right there with one click.

Just call me snap happy.

My daughter has returned from a visit to family in Australia. During that time she sent the children a booklet after her experience with family, friends, horses and dogs. It's a story that they can relate to and thoroughly enjoyed when it arrived through the mail. Some may consider it a shaggy dog story or a morality play, but from my tree hugging, 'electronic' hating daughter, it certainly made me giggle.

I'm not sure if the writing is legible but I think the pictures more or less tell the whole story. [I hope!]

The Holly and the Ivy

I cook in the kitchen. 30 minutes to prepare a hot meal for the table. This 30 minutes corresponds to the children’s 30 minutes electronics time, if and only if, they have completed their homework and chores.

On the days when this goal is unobtainable, corresponds to the days that I open a can of soup in the face of chaos and much misery all round. A certain degree of misery also reigns during the successful playing session but only for me. I find it hard to concentrate with surround sound musak from three different sources. All the tunes are heart stomping brain crashing pump action repetitive roils, enough to boil the blood.

This particular evening, my sons entertain themselves with their new game, ‘De Blob,’ a birthday present. This harmless addition has the added bonus of a wide choice of accompanying music, most of which is mild and inoffensive. As I stir béchamel my elder, jet lacked daughter appears in the kitchen, touseled and famished, “ooo that’s smells nice. What are we having today…….tonight, for dinner?”
“Lasagne.”
“Great! I’m starving……..it’s very quiet around here?”
“Electronics time.”
“Cool! It’s great that they did all their homework and chores.”
“Yes indeedy!”
“That musak…….it’s different……that’s nothing like as irritating……..that’s not bad at all.” She peeks around the wall to check…… “now that I like guys!” she beams at people who are otherwise engaged. “That’s not even half as irritating as the other stuff.”
“Not even half. Not even half. Not even half,” echoes her youngest brother. She slips back beside me, “what a relief, I can actually think for a change. So I was thinking…….”
“Hmm?”
“I printed off some copies of the Christmas Carols.”
“Great!”
“I thought we could all sing them together tonight before bed time.”
“Super.”
“Shall we practice now, together, warm up the rusty vocals?”
“Er……I’m not sure…….they hate it when I sing……they find it really annoying……and humming…..and whistling come to think of it.”
“They’ll never notice they’re glued to the screen with their own surround sound.”
“O.k. then.”
I whip up a storm in the saucepan whilst my daughter conducts. Together we chorus our way through the Holly and the Ivy. As I pull out strips of Lasagne my mind fills with the poignant significance of each reference that tells the tale of the "religious" season, as well as the nifty conversion from "paganism."

We harmonize the last note and beam at each other as couple of decades have passed since we last enjoyed this treat. My son pops into the kitchen, a cuckcoo striking the hour, “dat is real EAR I TATIN……..get it?”

Tree Huggers, it's a gift

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Cut and paste
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Timing is crucial.

I wait until two people stand on the roof to chop down the Christmas tree, one person plays ‘electronics’ and one spins his wheels. I grab the spinner to explain our schedule and specifically, how we shall occupy the next hour. We shall spend the next hour making candy as a gift for other members of the family, "a gift," our first.

I say a silent prayer that no-one falls off the roof during the next hour, or that if they do fall off the roof, that they won’t fall past the kitchen window, as that kind of distraction would be very off-putting.

My son is unconvinced that the project is doable, or preferable, or possible to complete in under 60 minutes. I share his dubious approach on the inside. I project optimism on the outside. I have selected a recipe for each child, what I hope is a good fit. Whilst it would be preferable for them to each to make their own choice, the ‘choice’ step could fill the entire hour and still not reach a conclusion. So I have chosen for them, a step that I view as dictatorship, although hopefully benign.

“Whada we doin again?” he enquires with huge dark eyes of confusion.
“We’re going to make chocolate fudge. It’s going to be delicious.”
“Er…….whya we doing it again?”
“It will make presents that you can wrap up and give to everyone in the family.”
“But why?”
“To make them happy. To show that you love them by giving them something they will like.”
“Er…..will dey like em?”
“Absolutely guaranteed. You like chocolate fudge don’t you? Everyone like’s chocolate fudge and they’ll like it all the more because you made if for them. Now…….how about we start by reading the recipe together?” He pauses, again. At this rate it will be a miracle if we ever manage task completion within the next 56 minutes. He rests his head on the kitchen counter as I list what I hope are mouth watering ingredients, but he’s off with the fairies and pays no heed to my words.
“Mom?”
“Yes dear?” Please lets make a start. Please don’t let us get off track again? Where is the track anyway?
“You are be tell a lie.”
“I am? I did? What did I lie about?”
“You said…….everyone is be liking my present.”
“That’s right. Absolutely right. They’re going to just love it.”
“But…..”
But me no buts! I hear the tick tock time slipping away.
“But what dear?”
“You……..”
“What about me?”
“You……..hate chocolate.”

They always get me on the details.