...and Night (and Yet Another Day) of the Felted Snow Zombies

It was the experiment’s fault. Remember, I ran out of Trendsetter Aura and had to make due with Berroco Sparkle Bright to finish the last sparkly snow zombie, which led me to the huge error of creating a whole new snow zombie from the Berroco just for fun.

Fun. I should have known.

Berroco came out looking like an abominable snow zombie, and everyone knows abominable snow zombies have more will-power than regular snow zombies, even snow zombies that like that sparkly look. I distrusted him from the word go.





He was the one. He did it. (And I have my suspicions about the 1/3 Berroco-headed sidekick I saw him hanging out with as well.)

The snow zombies revolted, and it was a scene that haunts me still.



(See?! See the haunting snow zombies on the march? See?! All that’s missing is a city in flames.)

The little suckers would not felt completely in four washes for anything. At first, I blamed the slower felt time on things like the fact that the washer in the house that I rent had a hot/cold choice rather than a hot/warm option. This, I reasoned, might make the fabric a bit less happy about bonding. Then there was the added novelty yarns—maybe that had something to do with it as well?

Still, even the plain vanilla snow zombies took a bit longer. So I threw them in the wash, again. And again. And again. On and off over the next day or so.

They had lots of in the washer down time while I did things like run errands and work. Leaving them alone like that to plot was a major tactical error on my part. I’m sure they had a code of knocks they used to communicate from bag to bag. (The Things reported hearing muffled thumps coming from the direction of the laundry.)

I, however, preserved. I am, after all, the snow zombie voodooiene and no upstart Berroco abominable snow zombie was going to get the best of me.

The plain vanillas were the first to capitulate to my you-will-felt-now-or-else spells. I chuckled, low and gleeful, rinsed them, stuffed them full of fiberfill and left them on the hearth to dry. And then, tired of their top secret code knocking (and worried that they would leave dents in the landlady’s washer), I stuffed the remaining snow zombies into one zippered pillowcase and tossed them back into the deeps of the washer.

One pillowcase, seven snow zombies.



Amazing what a little additional agitation does for felting, isn’t it?

(For those of you who are wondering, why, if I was throwing a shoe in with the bagged snow zombies—only two zombies per case—I was worried that putting multiple snow zombies in one bag would create a stuck together mess, when clearly one shoe could cause two snow zombies to adhere to each other as easily as it could four, or six, or eight, I point you to a specific word in the heading of my blog. It’s the one that begins with an N and ends with an O.V.I.C.E.)

Idiocy of self aside, I still had my revenge on Berroco and his side-kick for their plotting against me (it still must have been a factor—had to have been).



They are now just regular sparkly snow zombies.

(I love scissors. Scissors are my new voodoo tool of choice.)