My old man's an icthyologist
People who are as old as I am may remember the Smothers Brothers singing,"My old man's a fireman. Now what'dya think about that? He wears a fireman's collar. He wears a fireman's hat. He wears a fireman's raincoat. He wears a fireman's shoes. And every Saturday evening, he reads the Sunday news. And some daaaay, if I caaaaan, I'm gonna be a fireman, the same as my old man."
They go on to name other occupations: policeman, postman, cowboy, anthropologist . . . So when Denise in Canberra sent me the pattern for a dead fish hat, I realized that it is an ichthyologist's hat.
This picture doesn't show the dead-fish X's on the eyes. I have had so much fun with this that I am knitting more ichthyology hats.
DH figured out a way to wire a little led into the end of the angler's dangly thing. It flashes red.
I'm currently working on a quasi-trout for my brother-in-law the scout-master. I'm considering how to get the flashing red lights under the eyes. What could I sew down that would be translucent domes?
And what have I done with my wicker hat mannequin? Swear to dog, it's not like the thing is so small I could misplace it in a pile of papers. I've looked everywhere it ought to be and even checked in the freezer because, you never know. After all, I opened the dishwasher yesterday to find a box of oatmeal on the bottom rack. Luckily, I had not yet run the dishwasher.
SO the black hat goes off to Australia as soon as I can find the big manilla envelopes. Much as I would love to list it as "dead fish" on the customs forms, Australian customs has no sense of humor what-so-ever. I'm on their naughty list ever since I tried shipping some alpaca roving for a Christmas gift. I didn't know then how big a deal it is to ship natural products to Oz. Hope the rum balls will get through ok.