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Thursday, January 10, 2008
Adventures in Crochet: In the Begining
I learned to crochet when I was a wee thing. I'm the youngest of six kids and between me and my older sisters are three brothers. I admit it, I was a tomboy. When we would visit my father's parents, I liked to run around the farm with my brothers. Life was good when I was chasing geese and making mud pies. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, my mother and grandmother didn't think it was becoming for a girl to be covered in mud and heaven's only knows what muck. They decided that I needed a feminine occupation to keep me busy when I was visiting. Making gourmet mud pies, I was informed, was not a feminine occupation.

At the age of 5, my grandmother sat me down, put a size F Boye hook in my hand, wound some yellow acrylic worsted weight around my fingers, and taught me to make chain stitches. I made lots of chain stitches that summer. Grandma wasn't going to teach me more stitches until my tension was perfect and I wasn't allowed to go play in the mud. So, I kept practicing and when I got to the end of my yarn, I learned how to tie another ball on. By the time I got my tension perfect, I figured I crocheted at least a mile of stitches. My father and my brothers decided to see how long my chain really was. I held on to one end and they started walking up the road towards my Aunt and Uncle's house. A while later and it seemed like forever to me, we got a call from my aunt. The chain reached as far as her garage. It was official, I chained a mile of stitches.

Part of me wishes I still had that chain. It would be cool to look back at it now and see how much my stitches have chained over the years. But being the frugal farm women types that my mother and grandmother were, they wasted nothing. All that work was pulled out and the yarn was reballed. Did I ever mention that I'm a Master Yarn Ball Winder? This was where I learned to wind neat yarn balls.

My next crochet lesson was where I learned that Grandma was just a little bit of a perfectionist. Not that being a perfectionist is a bad thing, but when you are 6 it is very annoying. I learned early to fix mistakes when they happen rather than let them in and hope they aren't noticed. Grandma would undo all the crochet until she got to the point where the error was made. It didn't matter if it was the first row and you just finished your 50th row. As much as I hated it then, I'm a perfectionist in my work now. Flaws in my work and others work drives me nuts. So far I haven't unraveled someone Else's' work.

After I mastered the mile of chain stitches, I was deemed ready to learn the standard of all crochet patters: The Granny Square. I learned how to make granny squares while sitting at the stool by Grandma's knee. My first squares were made from the yarn I used for my chain stitches. My first squares were joined in a blanket that was donated to Grandma's church to raise money for the poor.

Finally, I ran out of chain yarn and the next adventure was about to happen, My mother was going to take me yarn shopping.




Please note: The graphic is not mine. I found it on the internet and can't fine the name of the person who did it. I thank them and when I find their name I will post it.

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posted by Angel at 1/10/2008 12:57:00 AM ¤ Permalink ¤


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