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.

A friend of ours used to hold the world record for deep ocean dives, so I figured he might enjoy an angler fish from the depths.

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.