I did actually sit down last night and start this post. I ended up not feeling well and nearly passing out sitting here at the laptop working on it. I’m thinking the culprit was a certain piece of carrot cake that was omg so sweet! I have to admit, I really didn’t like it much, especially after I pretty much had to sleep it off, and it didn’t feel like my pill was working at all😦 Too bad, carrot cake is my FaVoRiTe!
I know I’ve mentioned it before, but yarn is a big thing with me. I’ve been knitting and crocheting since I was 11. That means I’ve been doing it for almost a third of my life, and it’s something which is automatic with me, working the yarn and making a pattern. People – at work, when they come to visit me, or when I’m working on it pretty much anywhere I’ll bring it – will sit and watch me and marvel at how fast my hands work, and how half of the time I don’t even have to look at what I’m doing half the time. I just go. I have to remind them of the fact that I’ve been doing it for so long, so it’s something that’s been trained into my brain.
So, in some ways this post is almost a no-brainer. It’s quite obvious I’m going to have SOMETHING to say about the subject, I should have no problem writing something about yarn, right?
Of course I did, but not necessarily what you would expect.
As I said, I’ve been knitting and crocheting since I was 11, when I asked my Grandma to teach me how to knit. She taught me to knit, alright, but never how to cast on. I had to teach myself that later in life, when I got over it and had finally at least taught myself how to read a crochet pattern. Shortly after my Grandma taught me the knit stitch, I picked up a hook and taught myself how to crochet, and the real love affair with yarn started then. For years, my Grandma was what I got to call after a while my “yarn dealer” – she’s the only one I got yarn from for years, and even today if she finds some she thinks I might like, or she finds some that she no longer wants, she’ll still give it to me. Albeit, it’s a whole lot more difficult now.
So, this piece came out of the years that I would sit and watch her knit – not quite marveling in the same way co-workers and others might with me – and just be amazed. Until I was used to doing it, too, and then I knew how it felt to be that automatic when my fingers hit the yarn and hook or needles. Grandma and Grandpa’s relationship wasn’t quite like this – but that’s why they call it poetic license, eh?
This week’s entry for 100 Word Challenge (a little bit late, oops!):
Grandpa could spin quite the yarn about anything – the size of the fish he caught on his fishing trip or about doing donuts in the fields in his father’s truck at 11.
My cousins would be mesmerized for hours. But as I got older, I watched grandma rocking in her chair. Her hands worked her yarn with a life of their own as she watched grandpa.
He’d look at her and a look would pass between them.
I see that look again in this hushed room.
Then I meet eyes with my husband, my heart swelling, knowing what she always felt.