I made me a Wozzle!
Or, rather, I made a Wozzle who is a funky chicken. This is how a Schmutzie in the midst of an action-packed, rollercoaster life spends a weekend. She crochets and crochets and crochets. And then she swears a bunch of times, because holy-fucking-shit can wool yarn raise the ire in someone who tends to make stitches tighter than rusted bolts. And then she might rip apart a couple of attempts at making bird wings, because wings aren't supposed to even remotely resemble blue sausages or stripy flowers.
All my hard work birthed a lovely Wozzle, though, so it was worth it.
I described him thusly on Etsy:
With his blue eyes and funky hair, Wozzle's used to being stared at, which is good, because it's hard not to look at him. Mostly, he just sits around all day, only occasionally letting out a BEGAWK! or a small fart. Don't worry, though. Chicken farts are rosy.
Don't worry. Wozzle doesn't really fart. I'm not adept enough at crochet yet to interpret gasses through yarn.