The Scarf

This year I have rediscovered the joys of yarn.

Yes, that might sound a little strange to anyone who has never knit/woven/crocheted/stitched.

No, I do not care if anyone thinks it's strange.

My yarn time is all about me.  From September to December my evenings are chock-a-block full with cross-stitching and pin-quilting ornaments that I sell, but the rest of the year has, until now, not included any creative pursuits.

I began by knitting, which I have done in the past.  The re-learning curve was fairly gentle, and I remembered fairly quickly what was what.  Before much time had passed I was cranking out cotton dishcloths like a machine (I really enjoy practical, usable things).  Soon enough this morphed into a shawl for a dear friend whom I wanted to hug desperately, but was too far away to allow me to physically touch.  I was hooked!

What I honestly wanted to do, though, was crochet.  I had been trying to learn, on and off, since I was about six, and had been stymied every time.  My mom (who was a south-paw) tried innumerable times to teach me, but I was never able to translate her smooth, practiced left-handedness into anything that made sense to my tangled (right-handed) fingers.

So I bought a little book.  It had very simple instructions that were well-suited to my pre-existing level of crochet-angst (a person builds up some pretty skookum walls when they've tried, and failed, to do something for 40 years).  Nice, clear pictures featuring primary colours.  Perfect.

I studied that book relentlessly for days, and convinced myself that this crochet thing might well be doable.  I got out a crochet hook and some light-coloured yarn (the easier to see the stitches, as instructed by the book), and started playing a little bit.

And, hot damn!!!  I COULD do it!  I was doing it.  When I got myself stuck ("crochet" is an entirely different language - read a simple pattern and you'll see what I mean) I walked over to the handy-dandy puter and went on YouTube and found a tutorial for the finer points (sweet blessed technology).

I crocheted for weeks, playing with the yarn, combining different stitches.  I got to know what worked (a chain between two stitches leaves a hole ON PURPOSE!) and what didn't (too much tension creates WAY too much tension, man - tear that shit apart and start again).

It was almost zen-like.  AND I could be interrupted (because that is my life) and not have to count back 30 stitches and try to figure out where I left off.  Big bonus!

Then a friend pointed out a knitted scarf that she loved.  I told her I could make it for her.  She was happy.

I bought the pattern and found some yarn for a test-run (as I had never used a pattern designed by that designer, and I wanted to be sure it turned out the way it looked before I went to work on my friend's).

It was hell.  Hell!  I tell you!  The pattern was not overly difficult - the bulk of it was 19 stitches and four repeating rows. That. I. could. NOT. seem. to. grasp.
For a couple of weeks I worked on that !@##$& scarf, every evening.

My neck muscles were in knots.  I would sit down in the evenings, pick up my needles and sigh. Knit, tear out.  Knit, tear out.  There was nothing relaxing about this at all.

This is where I tell you that I stuck with it, plowed through, and finished the scarf. 

Or not.

What I actually did?  I quit the scarf.  I made a decision on the side of self-preservation and sent my friend a message on Facebook (she lives at the other end of the province) and told her that I hated the scarf, and I would not be delivering on this one.

Her response?  "Okay.  Don't fret!"

I have the best friends.

So the next day I went and picked out some butter-soft yarn.  Dark red, which she loves (and which suits her).  That evening, I picked up the crochet hook and simply started.

It isn't what she had wanted, and I do hope that she likes it.  It's a design that was never intended for the purpose I am using it for.

It is beautiful.  More importantly, I hope that when she wraps it around herself she gets a sense of the pleasure making it has given me.  The ease and joy of creating something practical, yet pretty, from a place of peace and tranquility, as opposed to stress and struggle.

I don't like to quit anything.  I reallllly don't like letting my friends down.

I really like my yarn time.  Zen won out.  It feels awesome.