The Plush Breakfast Tradition

For some reason, the poor steak doesn't have a face.

Every year, there are several occasions where giving a gift to my husband is appropriate. For example, most husbands have birthdays; then there are days like Valentine's Day, one's anniversaries (dating & engagement & marriage), and Christmas. Before you know it, there are like, ten different celebrations where one is supposed to be giving presents to commemorate the day! However, my husband and I are both fairly low-maintenance people when it comes to gift-giving; I would probably be angry at him if he ever filled our apartment with roses or splurged on a diamond tiara. But! It would also be sad to not give an indication of remembrance for such important milestones! So one of the traditions that has evolved in our relationship is that I give him plush breakfast items as little gifts.

I actually got re-started in sewing when my sister began making plush toys out of fleece. She hand-sewed these little guys for me to decorate my classroom when I first started teaching. Her creations were so ridonkulously cute that I had to try my hand at it. 

From left to right, top to bottom: a camole, a wedge of cheese, a leptin mouse, a The Cheat sponge, a used tissue, and Watson, the self-proclaimed terror of students who don't do their work.

My first plush breakfast item for my husband was a pancake and pat of butter. See, according to the Myers-Briggs test, I'm a Rational, an INTJ. And my T is the letter I most identify with. This has caused issues in my relationships, as most of my friends are F's and don't understand why I have to always be so mean. I, on the other hand, have trouble understanding why they're such touchy-feely-wishy-washy-emotional-wrecks...j/k. But in all seriousness, my husband has really done a lot to help me get in touch with my inner F, buried deep as it may be. It's like when you first take a pat of butter out of the fridge and it's rock hard and you can't spread it on anything, but when you put it on a warm pancake, it slowly melts and starts oozing everywhere. Okay, so maybe the analogy is a bit belaboured, but hey, it was 2008 and I was in the first throes of young love.

This picture was taken with a webcam, long long ago.

Anyway, as time went on we discovered our mutual love of bacon, so for Valentine's Day I made him a pack of plush bacon, along with a list of reasons why he was even better than bacon (in bacon font, no less). This tiny collection eventually gained a slice of toast, steak and eggs, and a mug of coffee.

Well, this year, for his birthday, in memory of our one-year anniversary trip to England, I made him a...well, can you guess what it is?

Some context food to help you out.

That's right! Black pudding! A pretty good resemblance, huh?

In case anyone is interested in how I made it, here's a fake-torial:

1. Cut a 7"x21" rectangle out of black fleece. Fold it right sides facing, hot dog style, and sew the long side closed to make a cylinder. 
2. Flip it right side out, then sew a gathering stitch on one end to close it up. Pull the thread tightly and and tie it off to make the sausage-y end. 
3. Stuff the pudding with poly-fil or scraps of fabric/yarn. Do not actually fill with blood, or oats, or anything edible.
4. Sew another gathering stitch at the open end and tie it off, then stitch the two ends together. 
5. Massage the pudding (now that's a phrase I never thought I would type) a little bit to distribute the stuffing and make it look better now that it's all rounded.
6. Use the lint roller to get the cat hair off. Done!

Happy birthday to my husband! He has made all my dreams come true -- what an enabler! Because of him, I have wall-to-wall bookshelves (I've always wanted to live in a library), a fourposter bed with curtains (so romantic!), an adorable, smooshable cat, and we got to take an amazing trip to England. Haha but besides all the superficial stuff, as I told him this morning when I gave him his "breakfast," he also enables me to be fully myself and encourages me to try new things. Like black pudding.