Crochet Shorts: The Review.

There has never been any news article released that both my readers and friends felt such unanimous urgency to send to me than Crochet Shorts for Men made out of recycled vintage afghans. The tweets, Facebook messages, emails, texts, and IRL “You have GOT to SEE THIS!” lasted for well over a month.

Perhaps it was because of my post about Doilies not being Shorts, and people needed to know – were blankets as shorts a better choice?

I came very close to ordering a pair – just for you guys. After all, if you all love me enough to bombard me with this information so thoroughly, I owed it to you.

But, thankfully for my budget, I have a family member that is just weird enough to buy them for himself.

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No, Not Chris.

Uncle Leo.

If you’ve been around for long enough, you should also remember that Leo is the self-taught toenail artist who makes fantastically intricate three-dimensional artscapes out of his carefully saved clippings for his cherished wife.

(If you don’t know, you need to click through and then come back.)

But he is also well-known in his hometown for his eclectic fashion statements, and can often be easily picked out of a crowd at the Flora-Bama (I’ve actually had one blog reader do just that – and even introduce herself to him.)

Leo Outfits

So wearing Crochet Shorts with a tuxedo suit to a Mardi Gras Ball was perhaps the most appropriate use that this New American Fashion Staple had ever experienced.Leo Crochet Shorts 2

And, after the ball, because he loves me, he shipped the shorts to me.

To share with you.

The pattern is quite generous in its hole size, so before I could put them on, in the name of decency, I had to start with some “Undershorts”.

So the process of modeling Crochet started here:

Starter Shorts

(I’ll have you know that I painted my toenails for the first time post-Winter just for this photo shoot. You’re welcome.)

Then it was time for the shorts.

Now granted, they were made for Leo. And Leo and I are not identical in size.

Which is when the first feature of the Crochet Short, the drawstring, comes in very handy.

Crochet Shorts

But let’s talk about that drawstring.

Its sharp edges tend to cut straight through layers of epidermis, all while creating a serious crochet bunching issue, especially when cinched, adding to one’s waist a small intertube made of yarn. The effect is…unsettling.

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My thoughtful photographer and dearest husband went behind my back and captured an image that shows how very deeply that waistband cut, all while adding extreme inches as it did so.

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But OH.

The Butt.

If ever anyone wanted a Kardashian-Sized Kaboose, Crochet Shorts will provide. They are the Fairy Godmother, the Genie in a Bottle, the Avada Kedavra of the small backside.

Crochet Butt

I MEAN. I know that running has grown my butt. But it’s not that size.

To convince myself of that fact after I perused, mouth agape, the photos of my rear view, I had to go put on a pair of blue jeans (after all, that’s the way my butt is the most comfortable being photographed) and drag my cameraman back out to the porch, despite the fact that it was after dark.

Crochet Butt Comparison

How do those shorts make my whole top half look two sizes bigger, too? They are magical in all the wrong ways. And there is something so intestinally inappropriate about the downward design of that chevron.

Oh – you want to see the front Chevron? Even worse.

Crochet Crotch

Overall, they just didn’t seem like they were meant for me.

Crochet Jean Comparison

Or, perhaps, I was not meant for them.

They deserved better.

So I tried them on a different model.

Noah in Crochet Shorts

Yes – it was clear.

Who Wore It Better

Crochet Shorts are meant for the naturally cute – like Noah and his Great Uncle Leo.

The Fruit of the Sea.

A guest post, as written by my husband Chris.

All that I ever learned about shrimping, I learned by watching Forrest Gump.

That all changed on Saturday.

My uncle Leo invited me to go along with him and his neighbor Doug on a beautiful mild Saturday morning. Since I have a 6 month old son, getting up at 6:30 is very easy, even on weekends. We headed over to Doug’s pier about 7:15 and mounted our expedition.IMG_1981 (2)

Captain Doug, in my opinion, “know ever’thang they is to know about the shrimpin bidness.”

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He has a sturdy boat he built himself,

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a shrimping net,

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a cooler, a shrimping license, and a lifetime of experience.

That experience was useful in navigating the complex web of categorical, territorial, calendar, quantity, and time limits on shrimping. The laws are numerous, and sometimes people don’t follow them, but we would never do that, because it is a state wildlife criminal act. So don’t do it, kids.

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My helpfuness, on the other hand, was more akin to Lieutenant Dan.

So Uncle Leo, Captain Doug, and I set out from the dock and after a Gilligan worthy 5 minute ride, cast our net behind the boat, and started dragging. After a few peaceful minutes of manly fisherman storytelling, our forward progress abruptly stopped with our net firmly snagged on the bottom.

We were stuck.

As we discussed our problem solving options and tried them without success, a gigantic barge slowly wandered in, what looked like to me, our exact direction.

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I posed a hypothetical question to Captain Doug.

“What happens if the tugboat snags our net/lines?”

His thoughtful response: “Then we are going for a ride, and you will need to grab that knife and cut the ropes quick!”

We survived without that contingency, as the barge slid by us.

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We eventually untangled our net and tried again. While dragging the second time, we took in the wildlife:

A bald eagle soared overhead.IMG_2011 (2)

The porpoises, brilliant mammals that they are, knew that breakfast was being churned up, and followed the boat, closer and closer.

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As we hauled in our catch, they came in close enough to feed by hand, but we would never do that, because it is a federal wildlife criminal act. So don’t do it, kids.

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Anyway. The catch came in,

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and I stuck Leo and Captain Doug with the sorting, washing, and, um, processing of the shrimp while I left to take the kids to the beach. We’re took our share home to have fresh shrimp cocktail this week for dinner. Or maybe we’ll barbecue it, broil it, bake it, sauté it, or make shrimp kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo…

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We may not have had a Jenny-size boat like others had that morning,

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but Captain Doug & Leo go together like peas & carrots.

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In the end, with a myriad of options including pan fried, deep fried, stir fried, pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp & potatoes, etc., we just went with the peel & eat.

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That’s all I have to say about that.

If My Child Has Nightmares About Boats…

We’re in Orange Beach this weekend visiting Chris’ Aunt Kitty and Uncle Leo.

They live on the bay,IMG_8336
so one of the things that Leo wanted to do this weekend was get their boat in the water for spring, and in so doing, take Ali for her first ever boat ride.

Granted, it’s crazy-windy on the water and still a bit chilly, so we all bundled up like it was Winter in Alaska rather than Spring in Alabama.

Chris and Leo had put the boat up on the lift a bit earlier so that it was up in the air and at the dock for ease in loading passengers.

Apparently, there was some discussion about whether they got it far enough onto the lift, but they agreed that it should be fine.

Despite the boat being at the dock, one still had to do a pretty impressive dive, splits, and quick-grab onto the boat to get on, so the plan was that I would get on, then Chris would hand me Ali.

I dove, I did the splits, I grabbed the rail, and I felt like a pro boater.

As I loaded in on the middle of the boat, Kitty was jumping into the back of the boat, where Leo was catching her and helping her on.

And then it happened.

The boat violently tilted straight up in the air Titanic style, and all three of us started sliding towards the back.

I scream.

Kitty screams.

Ali, in Chris’ arms still on the deck, starts screaming.

The bottom of the boat landed in the water with a great splash, as the top of the boat was still leaning on the lift.

Leo lurches towards to back to catch his wife, who is standing on the back of the boat, doing a very good impression of a manically out of control two-armed windmill.

Time completely froze for a minute, me holding onto the rail and wondering if the boat was sinking, watching Kitty wildly windmilling and Leo trying to reach her.

But alas, Kitty’s moment of cartoon-like suspension in the air was over, and she even-more-animatedly fell flat on her back in the frigid water, her arms still doing windmills.

Finally, the whole boat came off the lift, Leo and I were left stable in the boat, as Kitty took the first swim of the year, in her sweat suit, with her glasses on, and with a bag full of belongings.

Ali was NOT happy about all this fun. Not happy at all.

Ali and Chris went around to the other side of the deck to help Kitty get up as she swam over, which is when my state-of-shock wore off and I remembered that I should be documenting this whole event:IMG_8309

Ali scolded Kitty for scaring her, and Kitty assured her that she was just fine, and that it was quite fun, albeit a slight bit cold.IMG_8310
For some reason, Kitty decided to opt out of the boat ride and take a warm shower instead…

And Ali only had to be slightly coerced to get on the scary boat:IMG_8325
…but she managed to relax a bit and enjoy the sights.IMG_8323

 

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When we arrived back at the house, we discovered Kitty’s trail of clothes and belongings on the porch:IMG_8382

 

 

 

I sure hope none of her neighbors have surveillance cameras. If they do, they’re gonna get an eye-full.

Ali recounted the event in her own words, really quite better than I did:

 

I think it will be my favorite dream too…because THAT’S how our family likes to have fun.