Serious S.E.eX.

This weekend saw a serious Stash Enhancement eXpedition. Special thanks go to my comrade-in-arms M. for being willing to rise at the crack of dawn; we arrived at 6.15AM and the place was already hopping.

 

How I learned to crochet – Part V

The innocent and the yarn shop

The yarn shop is situated in a dusty 50’s-style mall. We walked in and looked around. The shop was pretty empty, there was a young woman stationed behind the counter, and a solitary customer breezily flicking through pattern catalogs. I was impressed; the shop was a jewel box of wonderful yarn. Gauzy and impossibly complicated knitted pieces hung from sample racks evoking a gentle mood a million miles away from the tacky confines of the big box craft shop [1]. Wow, wow wow; to my innocent eye, this was the real deal and the effect was delightful [2]. I picked out a hunk of yarn in an intense green color. The yarn felt incredibly soft to the touch and I looked at the label. The yarn was COTTON!! Who knew that cotton yarn could be so soft? Public Service Announcement: “Ladies and Gentlemen, if you are rediscovering the world of yarn in the 21st century after many years of absence prepare to be AMAZED!”

I approached the desk to checkout trying to keep a nonchalant demeanor. “Young woman, I know exactly what I am doing, I buy yarn ALL THE TIME to create wonderful projects”. As I pulled out my purse, I looked at the crochet hook with its miserable and by now ratty yarn end curled around it. The crochet hook looked me in the eye. “You miserable specimen, you have no idea how to crochet, you are on the verge of giving up and you will not be able to find a solution by spending more money on the problem. Go ON, go ahead, ASK!!!! What have you got to loose? Oh yes, that’s right, your PRIDE may get a little dented. Well, how can I say sorry like I really mean it?”

Although brutally sarcastic, the crochet hook quite possibly had a point. At that point, my reverie was interrupted by the shop girl. “That’ll be $$$ please.” I forget exactly how much the yarn cost, only that it was multiple $$$ and the figure came as some surprise. Do folk really spend that much for colored string [3]? The shock was the final spur to conquer my anxiety. I pulled the crochet hook from my bag, cleared my throat and spoke up. “Excuse me, I was wondering if could you possibly demonstrate a little crochet for me? I can’t seem to get going on it!.” The woman registered my entreaty and there was a moment of silence. My eyes looked up at her face. Like any other great ape, I try to read facial features for social clues. My on-board computer messaged “receiving slight look of disgust”. Hmmm, I was somewhat surprised to be the recipient of a WTF look. Worries raced through my head. Perhaps I was the nth person to whom she had shown this technique that day? Perhaps she was tired or didn’t care for the tone of desperation in my voice? Had I made some kind of yarn shop faux pas? The yarn shop girl answered slowly, and enunciated clearly. “I can’t help you, we only do knitting here”. Derision dripped down her face making an unappetizing stain on the counter and I felt mortified. Perhaps there was only a tiny number of crocheters in the world, too miniscule in number to warrant a yarn shop? Was I attempting to recreate a lost activity? Was I behind the times and did not know that there was something intrinsically superior about knitting, rendering crochet skills passé? Would have to be born into a crocheting family in order to learn the craft? I cursed myself; why had I not even thought to ask my great-aunt to show me her secrets? I guess I had assumed that making blankets was just something for old ladies to keep them out of trouble but where did I get such a hare-brained sexist assumption and why had I not questioned it? The credit card machine accepted my payment [4], I signed the slip and turned to leave.

[1]  It was much later that I became more snobby discriminating and could reject a yarn shop for infringements such as not stocking Noro Silk Garden Sock.
[2]  The Yarn Harlot has described the phenomenon of “yarn fumes” and I believe this is what she is referencing.
[3]  Oh yes, and it would not be long before I would be unblushingly shelling out huge amounts for yarn on a regular basis.
[4]  Why don’t these machines occasionally refuse permission and send back a message asking if you are really sure you want to go ahead with such a frivolous purchase?

NEXT: Crushed, but not out

How I learned to crochet – Part IV

Still at the starting gate!

At this stage in my ‘learn to crochet’ campaign, I was still feeling pretty confident. On the plus side, I had yarn, crochet hook and pattern book, plus at least a modicum of natural intelligence (or so I fancied). Searching more solutions for crochet instruction uncovered the internet site of the ‘Crochet Guild of America’. I hopefully clicked on the ‘crochet lesson’ pages under the resources tab. The grainy, low resolution pictures were indecipherable and I was still at the starting gate.

Things were getting ugly and a little paranoia crept in. Perhaps crocheters were one of those secret societies who were reluctant to pass on their magical skill? Maybe that is why the Crochet Guild of America had such a dreadful web site?

One of paranoia’s problems is that it hangs out with its pals, Faulty Reasoning and Bad Decision-Making, and they all like to hang out by the bar in the Mental Rut Hut. Enter another foible of human frustration. “It’s not me, it must be the tools! Surely it can’t be the crochet hook as there did not seem to be many options in that department, but perhaps it was the yarn? I googled “wrong yarn” to figure out if other people had had this “problem”. I actually turned up sites where folk had commented on yarn being “nasty”, and “difficult to work with”*. “Yes, that must be it”, I thought, “I have the WRONG yarn!” Pure genius.

Now, the yarn I had purchased was from a big box craft store. Another bias kicked in. “Those good-for-nothing big box stores must be up to their usual tricks peddling crap on unwitting consumers! I must find a speciality store and purchase some “good” yarn”. Sorry kids, but that’s my personality for you, warts and all. In my defense, some part of my consciousness was aware that this line of thinking was not on a terribly productive track and still still fanasized about getting out of my rut by connecting with a real live crocheter.

I looked through the local business directory and found a speciality yarn shop. At the next opportunity, I scooped the kids up and set out.

Next: the innocent and the yarn shop

* You can certainly find nearly any opinion on the internet