Just getting around to sharing a few pictures from this year’s craft party. It actually takes place the 1st or 2nd weekend of October every year. I generally suck at remembering to take pictures, but each year I try to suck a little less.
I love watching creativity spread like a mutant virus, seeing ideas take hold and twist and contort into something different with each new mind they infect.
Much like what happened with this pretty little ghost, that was inspired by ghosts that we had hanging around, that were inspired by our toilet paper roll mummies that were inspired by other tp mummies on the internet, that worried the cat, that killed the rat, that ate the malt, that lay in the house that Jack built.
These awesome heads were inspired by last year’s skull beads and in turn paved the way for voodoo dolls that hopefully I’ll get a tutorial of made soon.
Here are a few more creations, unfortunately in the chaos I didn’t get around to photographing everything, so you won’t get to see the zombie arm or furry graveyard, among other things.
This was the only potion bottle I got a picture of, but the glittered potions were a big hit this year. This one doesn't contain any glitter glue, that's a couple of sticky eyeballs with glitter stuck to them.
I found this awesome Cthulhu coloring page at Yucca Flats, N.M. Be sure to check out the other coloring pages available.
I also had copies available of the FaceOff template from Skull-A-Day. I was so close to the exhibit at the International Museum of Surgical Science this summer. But the day wasn't about me, and a little girl and her grandmother had a fabulous time at the American Girl Place where there was nary a skull to be seen, except for my skull bag. So I added a little skull appreciation into the party and my guests did not disappoint. Yes that last one has nose hairs.
There were other skulls, which try as I may, I can not find the original source for and the ever popular dancing skeletons.
And more bead creatures...
We also gave out the best door prize ever this year, dried froggy roadkill. Of course I didn't get a picture of it, because I suck.
Two summers ago the neighbor girls found a dried frog. I think it's state had a lot to do with the drought that year. It was almost in mint condition, all the bones were intact, the skin dried to a perfect froggy leather. They were going from house to house showing off their find to gross out all the parents. But to their surprise and why they were surprised I don't know, they know me better than that, instead of shrieks of disgust, I merely said, "Cool, can I have it when you're done with it?" The darlings gifted it to me on the spot and no sooner had I put it in a jar than my husband piped up and said, "You're not bringing that in the house." He thought it was going to rot and stink and attract bugs, he was very unreasonable and wouldn't even look to see how well preserved it was. So I left it on the porch. A few days later I went to admire it and it was gone. It was a dark day in our marriage, I can't think of the last time we had such a heated argument prior and we haven't had another like it since. The betrayal of having one's dead frog tossed in the trash, along with a very nice recycled jar, on a trash day no less with no chance of retrieval behind one's back is practically unforgivable.
This summer the girls found another frog. It was not in mint condition, it had been run over and then dried out on the blacktop, but still a very lovely gift. I couldn't bear to go through all the turmoil and heartbreak again, so I decided the only thing better than having your own dried frog, is sharing a dried frog with friends.
But the best part of this year's party was as people were leaving they were already talking about what they want to make next year. That just warms my cockles*. And not because I feel in some small way I’ve helped to facilitate a rich nurturing environment in which creativity can flourish. No, it’s because the more people I get addicted to creepy crafts, the less crazy I seem.
*A saying which doesn’t mean what it sounds like it should mean to my great disappointment, but I’m not one to let facts get in the way, so feel free to imagine my warmed cockles however you wish.