January 2006 Archives

Well, nearly sick. Almost sick. I'm still in the illness limbo. I probably could have gone to work, but I thought it better to stay home and rest and drink lots of herbal tea and try to fight off whatever it is trying to bully my immune system.

That and I just needed a Sanity Day.

I spent all day on the couch watching bad movies and crocheting. The baby blanket is coming along. I'll have pictures tomorrow, I think. I also did a square. For no reason other than to have something different to do.

I leave you with two questions:

Isn't it amazing how dirty the house looks when you're stuck in it all day and feel too much like crap to do something about it?

and

Isn't it amazing how your precious, loving cat can sit in your lap, on your crochet project, doing her best imitation of lap fungus for hours at a time then dare give you a look like she's the most abused feline in the world when you finally have to coax her off because you could no longer tell if you actually had legs anymore?

Look, my weekly group gets together to do some crocheting/knitting/whatever-hand-held-fiber-arts and a fair amount of bitching. It's what we do to relax. It's what we do to socialize and have some fun. It's just what we do. We make no money. We just get together for coffee, tea, and a good round of ranting, with hooks and needles a-flyin'. The group has an actual name. It's called "Knits and What Knots," but, you know, that's not how we refer to it. We call it a STITCH AND BITCH.

Now, the day I let some giant corporation with a stick up its ass who thinks it can copyright our free speech tell me I can't call it a STITCH AND BITCH is the day I hang up my hooks. You have the copyright to "Stitch and Bitch Cafe" not the words "stitch", "and", or "bitch" or any combination thereof.

I used to think your books were cool and inviting to those learning the fiber arts, but now I see you are nothing more than a fat cat corporation who only wants to copyright the phrase so you can make the maximum amount of money on it. That's funny since your books are all about the fiber arts bringing people together. We should have known you weren't in it for the greater good.

(And, I guarantee you Mr. Sew Fast Sew Easy that the term Stitch and Bitch has been around a lot longer than your damn company believes it "originated" it in 1997.)

My group is a STITCH AND BITCH. We tend to meet at the Barnes and Noble in Little Rock, AR. Monday nights. 7 pm. Please, by all means, send us your lawyers. We'll be happy to laugh at them.

Someone arrived here while googling "cultist signs".

Yep. It was going to happen sooner or later. They were going to find me out. I corrupt minds to the powers of crochet and bend them to my will. Through the repetitive use of knots, I hypnotise them and force them to bring me yummy yarn and patterns that actually work. When they're not collecting, my minions worship me by wrapping me in unfinished projects.

Yep. That's it exactly.

They were bound to find me out sooner or later.

Now, pass the yummy yarn, lackey.

It's the weirdest thing. I left work today because my back hurt like hell and I felt like crap, but I'm not...quite...sick...

I don't feel as if I have a full-blown illness, but I definitely feel as if my body is doing it's very best to fight it off, whatever it is. So, it's a kind of limbo. I feel like crap, but not enough to call myself truly sick. It's just bleh, is all it is.

When I got home this afternoon, I wrapped up in my shawl on the couch, a kitty on my feet, and stared at TV for a while. When Todd (the boyfriend, I figure it was time to name him) got home, I fixed me some nice herbal tea and he made me soup. Aftewards, I crocheted. I figure tea, soup, and crochet. What illness can stand up to that?

Here's hoping. I have just asked for a week off in March for our vacation. I can't take much time off or it'll cut into my vacation time. That will not happen.

You hear that universe?! I am going on vacation! You won't beat me! HA!




Excuse me, this is the point where I should probably hide under the desk from the impending lightning bolts. Someone hand me my crochet...

Oh, I almost forgot. I said I would tell ya'll what I bought at the SCA event I attended.

Well, here it is.




These, my friends, are two giant cones of silk thread from Italy. Oh, yes, dance with me.

Ask me how much I spent on them. Go ahead. Ask.

$30. That's right. $30.

A girl who is a spinner, weaver, knitter, and merchant had gotten them off of this warehouse that was going out of business. She had called to order the stuff and the warehouse informed her of this fact and if she sent them shipping costs, she could have the whole stock because otherwise it was going to be destroyed.

Yeah, my heart stopped at the thought of such a travesty, too.

I mean, look at this...




It's a little rough, but it's soft as all hell and gorgeous. Pictures don't do it justice.

And, the cones are huge. My hand is there for a reference...




I had been debating all day whether I should get a cone because it's about the size of a nice lace thread I've worked with before and I thought, "Lace shawls for years." But, I had just spent a lot of money at the yarn shop. Did I really need to spend more money? The boyfriend said the magic words, "Is it something you would use?" My response..."I'll FIND a use for it." He told me he had some cash to help if I wanted to buy one. I resisted a little because without him helping me with the vet bills for my newly diagnosed diabetic cat, I would be up that creek without that paddle. He told me that I could make something for him out of it. I said, "I'll learnd to knit socks. Silk socks. You'll get silk socks." He gave me his money, and with the cash I had, I was able to buy two cones.

And, honestly, if I don't crochet with them, there are definitely things I can do. I can sew with it for more accurate replications of medieval works. I can use it for inkle weaving. I can...

Listen to me justify this. I don't have to justify this. My hoard yearned, called, begged for this, and I heeded to its whim. You can't escape the will of the Hoard. The Hoard is all. Must. Obey. The. Hoard.




-----------
The Yarn Harlot refers to this as the Stash, but I have to admit, mine is more like a hoard because it likes to attack me en masse on a regular basis. I imagine if my yarn had another life it would work for the Ghengis Khan mob and would run down my previous life and steal all I had after it mutilated my body. It's a vicious bunch of yarn. I think it's all the synthetics. Makes it cranky. Maybe once I have more natural stuff that seem calmer and more patient I can call it a Stash.

Okay, we come to the last I will post for the Parade of Projects today. Trust me, there will be lots more as I start more projects, ignore others, find people and whack them about the head and shoulders until they give me pictures of the pieces I gave to them, and any time I get bored.

On this installment, I give you the unfinished projects...or at least the few I'm willing to admit to.

This is my boyfriend's blanket I started in 2004. I had given it to him for Christmas with a promise to finish it soon. You will ignore the woman behind the two shawls, three scarves, and two stuffed dragons...




It's sitting in a bag on the living room floor in hopes I'll work on it. I'm not ignoring it...really...I'm not...

Of course, I do have a bit of an excuse for not working on it. I have a feeling I don't have enough yarn to finish it and the dark blue has been discontinued. But, that's okay, the boyfriend has a stuffed dragon, a paper mache candle holder, and a Dr. Who scarf from me. He forgives me for this trespass. I hope...

Anyone have a couch I can sleep on?

This is a shawl I work on whenever I just feel the urge or whenever I'm between projects while ignoring others.




I started this one while waiting in the hospital as my mother had her biopsy done. (Came back negative, by the way.) I had to have something to do with my hands or go crazy with anxiety. Now, it's just a busy project.

Here's a close-up of the stitches.




I figure, one day, it'll be finished and someone will inherit it. It's not that big of deal, though. I think I'll miss it when it's gone, though.

Okay, this is the current obsession and worry. This is a baby blanket I have to finish before Jonathan emerges from his mother like a little chest burster in about two months.



(Please ignore the strange shadow on the edge. The camera hates me.)


First of all, this is the first thing I've done in all natural fibers. It's a cotton/merino blend that's so yummy I can't stand it. (You'll notice the rather dull color. My friend said neutral colors only. She doesn't go for that gender specific pastel crap. I love her.) Not only am I worried it'll shrink into the size of tissue when I finally wash it (handwash, cold), but I'm afraid that it's going to take a ton of yarn to finish.

It's a woven stitch, which is fine because it needs to keep the baby warm.




I have a feeling the supply of yarn I bought won't be enough, though. (Oh, darn, I'll have to go back to the yarn shop and buy MORE YARN. How will I ever stand it?) Thing is, though, my friend will kill me if she finds out. The time we went yarn shopping she had picked out this bag of wool that was $10 a skein. Crochet uses more wool than knitting. We estimated ten balls of the stuff. She told me that she'd harm me if I spent that much on a baby blanket. The current yarn I'm using has more yardage and is only $7.50 a skein, but I've spent $60 on it already buying four skeins of the beige, two of an eggshell color, and two small balls of a variegated cotton for accent. I'll have to buy more beige since it's the main body of the blanket. There is no doubt about it. It'll end up being a $100 blanket no matter what. She can never know or she'll strangle me with it.

I'm already up a creek when she finds out it's all natural and will have to bloody her husband every time he brings it near a washer to keep him from shrinking it.

And, this brings us to the end of the current Parade of Projects. Please drive home carefully and throw all trash in the containers the city has kindly provided. And, don't forget to write to your Congressperson to demand crochet and knitting become official sports. Thank you.

You know, why stop with a few pictures? Let's just have the whole she-bang, why don't we? Kind of make up for the lack of visuals all these days, huh?

Let's move on to actual finished crochet projects that I currently have in the house. I have many other things that I have created that were given away, which is why you won't see them here. I haven't gotten in touch with people to get pictures yet. I hope to have a few tomorrow or the next day.

I did this one about 4 years ago. It's a large lovely shawl that is mine, all mine, and currently draped over my chair. Yeah, it's made from sythetic yarn, but I was broke and it's been washed enough that it's soft and cozy now.




It might not be much but it's kept me warm at the ice chest they call my job and has been the catbed to three cats, as if evident by the mounds of cat hair I pick off of it. Cats love crochet or knitted things, especially if they think you might need it. There have been many an argument between me and the cats over who actually owns that shawl. I'm not entirely sure I win those arguments.

This is my most recent finished project. It, too, is mine all mine. (Things that are mine are usually green, as you can tell.)




Either way, this is my scarf. Hard to tell in this picture because it's hanging on a door knob. My house is still a chaotic mess with the unpacking and stuff and I have few places to display stuff. Anyway, it's made from a wool/acrylic blend that is not only the thing that converted me to natural fibers, but it's all yummy soft. After crocheting other people scarves for Christmas and realizing I was freezing from my chest up, I felt it was time, for the first time in four years, to make something for me. Dammit. I have to do that more often...

This one is definitely one of my pride and joys, if anything because someone else gets so much joy out of it. This is the Dr. Who scarf I made for my boyfriend. It's hanging over a closet door and still dragging the ground. The man is 6 feet tall and can wrap it around his neck twice and still have it hang to his knees. Funny thing is, I had to stop halfway through the pattern or it would have been frighteningly twice that size. I know crochet adds a little to a pattern that's originally knit, but I also know that the one from the original show was damn long because Tom Baker was apparently a sasquatch of a man. It, too, is acrylic, but damn, ya'll, I don't want to have to sell of my car for the wool for that thing.




It started during a camping trip with someone saying her son wanted to be Dr. Who for Halloween and did I think I could crochet a Dr. Who scarf? Why, yes, I could and did and it was awesome and the boyfriend thought it was damn cool and I said wouldn't it be funny if I made him a full-sized one and he said that would be pretty damn cool actually... The rest is history. It's not truly full-sized since I had to cut the pattern short, but it was that or force him to wrap himself in it like a mummy. It's kind of hard to drive to work that way.

Either way, he brags about it to friends. That makes me happy by miles.

Okay, no one asked for it, but I kind of feel obligated to post pictures of some finished and unfinished projects. Paper mache, crochet, embroidery...these are kind of visual things.

So, let's begin the tour...

This was my first finished paper mache project. His name is the Skull Guy. (Everyone say, "Hello.") I'm rather proud of him for a first attempt.




I'm also glad to have him back. He was yet another Halloween thing, and the previous roommate made me take him down for Christmas. Wouldn't even change his mind if I put a Santa hat on him. He said it was "morbid". Well, my lovely boyfriend moved in with me several months ago and understands and even encourages my weirdness, so the Skull Guy was hung once again above my fireplace where he belonged. And, I was even allowed to put a Santa hat on him for Christmas. The boyfriend even bought it for him! Some people understand me.

He nixed the bats on the Christmas tree, though.

Next on the tour...this one doesn't have a name. He was my second attempt. I took paper pulp, wrapped it around a small jar, mushed things here and there, threw on some paint, and now I've got a funky candle holder.




Actually, he belongs to the boyfriend now, but I'm rather thinking I'm coming along on the paper mache thing.

I have two more works in progress, but one is top secret (only because I'm stuck on something and don't want to admit that I haven't touched it in two months) and the other is...somewhere. I'm not sure where it was put during the Moving In the Boyfriend chaos. I'll find it eventually.

I will have pictures soon if I can help it.

There will be pictures of paper mache. I only have two finished, one almost finished, and one in a...um...I-swear-to-all-that's-holy-I-will-figure-this-out stage.

Of course, I will post a few crochet things: two I have finished and kept for myself and a few in progress.

Maybe a picture of some embroidery...

I will also be very happy to show off the amazing surprise I bought at the SCA event I attended. You would not believe what I paid!



Or, I'll only post one or two things and call it good enough.

You won't know until it's too late, won't you? Kind of frightening, isn't it? Makes you bite your nails in anticipation, doesn't it?



Okay, maybe not, but I hope to have some pictures up, either way.

This has been your only warning. Duck while you can.

And, to the person who swung by this site through a google search of "crochet toilet paper covers," all I have to say is every time a toilet paper cozy is created a crochet angel buys it with a flame thrower and several pounds of nails in her head.

Please, for the love of all things fiber, don't do it!

I have a secret. For all these years, I've been crocheting with synthetics. Stop hissing at me! I know it's terrible, but hey, I'm poor and would rather crochet with mediocre yarn than not crochet at all. You do what you can with what you've got, right? Right.

But...but...oh, but...I found an actual yarn shop here in Little Rock. (Actually, there are two, but one sucks and the other doesn't. I won't mention which one sucks in case someone who works there comes here and bans me for life. Suck they may, but they do have yarn I might want.) It's a lovely shop with wonderful people who are more than willing to help you find what you need in an atmosphere of cheery peace surrounded by yarn. Baskets of yarn. Walls of yarn. Rooms and rooms of yarn. And, it's all REAL yarn. They may have a few novelties and some synthetics, but even those have class. There are some wools that are stiff enough to make a rug, a lace-weight wool from Japan that feels like cobwebs, and some blends that could only be called Yummy. I stood there for quite some time with my jaw on the floor feeling as if I had finally come home.

Today, I went in search of yarn for my friend's baby blanket. Earlier, she had told me she wanted me to get a synthetic only for ease of cleaning and a definite desire to not kill her husband when he shrinks a handmade blanket made of wool. Originally, she had chosen a wool, but it was more than I can afford right now, so I went in search of a decent synthetic. Did you know that it's nearly impossible to find a soft enough synethetic for baby blankets in this town that aren't pink or blue or yellow or any number of other pastels? Yes, my friend and I are under the agreement that gender-specific colors blows monkeys, and she really wants something more neutral. I could find nothing that would fit that specification in a synthetic that didn't have a terrible feel to it.

So, back to the shop I went. I knew they wouldn't let me down. And, they didn't.

My friend might be upset with me for making her blanket out of all-natural fibers because her husband will undoubtedly destroy it if she doesn't keep it in a lock box, but I couldn't help myself. There was a cotton/merino blend that called to me. It was the right price and very soft. (Sure, I would have loved to have bought the baby alpaca, but I don't have a home I could take a second mortgage out on.) I bought a lovely beige, a soft white, and this nice ball of variegated stuff that matches the overall theme that I think will be a nice accent. Of course, while there, I had to browse and marvel, and I found a lace weight that will be mine very soon. I don't know what I'll use it for, but any lace-weight yarn that feels like angels' wings must be in my hoard. It must!

After the purchase, I immediately had to get it home to try it out. A friend calls it Making Friends with the Yarn. I believe this to be necessary. You have to get acquainted with each other, get to know each other's faults and qualities, because after all, you're in it for the long haul. I made a swatch for both that and figuring a pattern I wished to use for the blanket. First, I would like to say I have discovered a new Happy Stitch, and my boyfriend thinks me now insane because I squealed over it then called a friend to brag. Secondly, I love the yarn, and I think it loves me. It's soft and will only get softer with use. It's not stiff or scratchy. It feels hearty without being unforgiving. We're going to be great pals. (The boyfriend thinks me even more insane because I've been hugging it and calling it pet names.)

So, now, I feel kind of bad. I've had a relationship with synthetic yarn for so long. It was without choice, but when you spend years learning to mold it into what you want, make it better, make it something that pretends to be real yarn, you sort of get attached to it. I feel like I'm cheating. I feel like the synthetic is my spouse and the real yarn is the other fiber just luring me out for a quickie. I look at all that synthetic stuff in my closet knowing I'll have to use it eventually and pretend like I haven't been stepping out on it and wonder if the guilt will ever go away...

Then, I remember the alpaca. The warm, soft alpaca I want to fill a tub with and soak in for weeks...

The synthetic will get over it. Besides, one day, it'll meet a nice pattern for a tissue box cozy that will make it very happy.

---------------------------
Happy Stitch - That stitch that you find utter bliss in working. It's a stitch that you find most versitile, most friendly. After working with other stitches that give you aneurysms, you know you can go back to your Happy Stitch and be completely at peace. You can have more than one, but it's advisable to not put too many in one project or your likely to start moaning with pleasure, which will only confuse your significant other.

I know that, unlike most blogs about the fiber arts, I do not have pictures up of my projects, mistakes, and quiet delusions. That is because usually when I finish a project it is immediately given to someone. I haven't any pictures. However, that will change. I have one project I'm currently ignoring and another that's about to hit me in the head (baby blanket) and a desire to inflict pain on myself with yet another lace shawl that is way more complicated than the one I work on whenever I just want something to do. (I started that one in the hospital while waiting for my mom to have her biopsy. I needed a distraction. Now, it's just a whenever I feel like it thing. It'll eventually be finished but it's not important.)

Either way, eventually, there will be pictures. Not that there are much in the way of readers, but should any poor lost soul stumble upon this place, it would be nice to accost them with pictures of my mental undoing.

I'm nice that way.

I’d like to point out to people who mock crochet that any pattern, either crochet or knit, can be turned into something that should only be worn on to keep pests away if you use colors like avocado green, burnt orange, harvest gold, puce, neon whatever, any color that starts with the word “hot”, any color that was born in the eighties, puke green, baby poop brown, most novelty yarns, or any combination thereof.

Also, there is no excuse at all for toilet seat covers, toilet paper cozies, toilet brush cozies, tissue box cozies, or pretty much any cozy. Let's not forget hideous hats, sweaters of suckage (with pom-poms), or whole dresses that make you look like a throw pillow. I think anyone who actually willingly and with forethought produces any of the above things because they actually think they’re cute needs to be barred from picking up either hook or needle until he/she can prove they are not out of their ever-loving mind.

Now, it’s a different story altogether if one chooses to make such things out of revenge. Nothing says, “You might want to think twice about that gag gift next Christmas.” like a puce toilet paper cozy that is a faux, slightly cross-eyed Barbie in a giant skirt with a hat that looks like a cancerous growth on her head. Tackiness used for vengeance can usually be forgiven.

However, I do have a theory for the existence things such as toilet paper cozies. Most everyone thinks it’s because at one point they were thought “cute” and the older generation who lived in that era just doesn’t know when to stop. Not so. I don’t think they were ever thought “cute”. I think it’s a means of torture by a bunch of old biddies who know they can get away with it.

I mean, think about it. They are your aunts/grandmothers/in-laws, and they know that anything they give you for whatever reason, no matter what it is, you'll feel compelled to keep it and rush to display it/throw it on/make your kids wear it when they come visit because otherwise you might incur a hurt expression and a speech about how “it's okay. It only took me twelve months of crocheting/knitting with my arthritic hands while trying to hold down three jobs. It's okay. I understand if you don't like it.” Then they shuffle away. Feeling like a total heel, you'll wear anything they give you.

Babies, they've got us in their claws!

They never thought those toilet paper cozies with the orange and hot pink stripes were ever cute, but they know you'll take it because otherwise you will be an outcast from the family for hurting their feelings. They know you'll never dream of throwing it away. And, they'll make more. Oh, yes, they'll make more, and later, when you aren't around, they'll laugh at you. They get together in their little stitch-n-bitch groups making gorgeous shawls and sweaters to die for and laugh their asses off at the latest horror they pawned off on their families.

It's not that they don't love us; it's just that after all those years of having to be the caregivers and matriarchs and family healers they feel the urge to commit a little evil every now and then. I figure it's kind of like why I play "Grand Theft Auto: Vice City" just to run people down on the sidewalks and flip cars off of ramps: sometimes it feels good to be a right bitch.

What better way to express than than in a tampon cozy the color of cat puke?

When I think about it, they're my kind of gals.

You have to use calculus equations, demon summoning, and the innards of a chicken to divine how to make it work.

You’ve ripped it out five times and each time you look at the pattern it’s different, almost as if imps are rewriting it while your back is turned.

There is an ominous red glow about it and it comes from a book called “Crochet for the Dead and Other Fun Crafts."

Every time you approach it with a ball of yarn, the yarn bursts into flames.

When stuck, again, you ask a master crocheter for help and she starts muttering prayers for protection and takes out her special exorcism hook.

It has abbreviations that are more like alien heiroglyphics and no key to decipher them.

You know a pattern isn't working, you can see it isn't working, but you can't find the mistake, and then one night, drunk on tequila, you find the TWELVE mistakes in the pattern that are turning a lovely lace snowflake into something the cat hocked up. (True story.)

You've crocheted a sweater exactly to the pattern specifications, but when you look at it, you find you've actually crocheted a cat bed.

You come to the realization that the only way the pattern will look good is if it is in avocado green, burnt orange, and harvest gold with popcorn stitches and fringe.

The first words out of your mouth upon attempting said pattern is a stream of expletives and, “I'll take up crocheting toilet seat covers first!”

It's a pattern for a toilet seat cover.

----------
If you come across any patterns that match one or more things on this list, it is your duty as a crocheter, nay a fiber artist, to destroy this pattern to protect the innocents who might fall into it's web of terror. I suggest shredding it, burning it, have the ashes blessed, flushing it down the toilet, and then blowing up the toilet with C-4. You can never be too careful.

Now, when I say I don’t knit, I mean, I Don’t Knit. It’s not that I dislike knitting. Knitting is lovely. Knitting produces some of the loveliest pieces. I actually envy some knitters. However, I Don’t Knit. I've tried. I really did. I gave it a shot. One year, a dear, dear friend even put together a beginning knitter’s kit for me for my birthday complete with a How To book and several sizes of needles. But, I’m coming to realize something that most fiber artists do not like to admit. I'm finding - and people can correct me, but I'm seeing it every day - that some people who do one very well cannot do the other without hurting themselves. There are exceptions, of course, my friend who gave me the gift of knitting both knits and crochets, but she hasn’t been doing either for long and is actually better at knitting. I have found many people who have spent years and years on one type end up being lame in the other. For instance, I believe knitting is for people with alien elbows. Every time I’ve tried to knit, I’ve found my own elbows trying to crawl into my ears. I don’t understand people with that kind of control. Alternately, I’ve had master knitters come to me to learn to crochet. It usually ends up with a growled curse and a “How the hell do you hold this friggin’ hook?” while the other hand manically slaps them in the head because it doesn't know what to do with itself.

Now, I can't tell you there isn't some nose-thumbing between knitters and crocheters. I mean, best friends might be able to share their deepest secrets without trouble, but if one insults the other's craft, it's feuding for centuries. It comes with a person who is a master at his craft challenging a fellow master to “my craft is better than yours” and “oh, yeah, says you” and “your mother knits with a machine” and “you secretly want to use popcorn stitches”. It can get ugly, but I think it’s all in good fun. (No it isn’t. We each harbor a secret desire to usurp the other in general popularity, skill, and achievement. I don't know where the polls are, but we all think they’re a crock and the other guy is losing.)

Granted, knitters and crocheters can come together in harmony. I have a weekly stitch and bitch of friends. It originally was going to be a knitting and crochet group called “Knit-wits and What-knots”. It still basically is, except it evolved into a “bring anything fiber arts that’s hand held” kind of group. Two of us crochet, two others knit, two more inkle weave, another card weaves, another sews, and we all can do other things and often cycle out. The knitters and crocheters get along famously. Granted, I’ve been threatened a good poking with a knitting needle, and I’ve promised I would use the Big Hook when I ram it up her nose to yank out her brain Egyptian-style. It’s all in fun.

Now, this isn't to say I'm against learning knitting. Thing is, there are just some things that you can do with knitting you can't do with crochet and vice versa. The thing I want to learn knitting for is socks and stockings. You can't really do socks with crochet unless you're talking booties of some sort. Granted, crochet is a hell of a lot faster when it comes to afghans and a hell of a lot easier, not to mention it is easier to correct and/or hide mistakes, but you really can't do socks, or gloves for that matter. (Mittens are okay.) Besides, as a fiber artist, it's my duty to learn as many fiber arts as possible. (This is where you hear my boyfriend scream. He already hears my rants and raves about projects, and yarn, and cats destroying yarn, and blind idiots who write patterns... He discourages me all the time from learning another hobby. I guess I better not tell him I discovered the coolness of sprang.)

I thought I was actually done crocheting for a while. I crocheted enough in the last three months in preparation for Christmas that I was thinking it was time to cycle back to paper mache for a while and only crochet at the Stitch. However, I've been reading "Yarn Harlot". (If you are any sort of fiber artist or knitter you know of the blog of the same name.) I had the paper mache all over the table, ready to go, but strangely, that book has given me the Urge.

People who do either craft understand what I’m talking about. The Urge is whenever you even think of a ball of yarn you get this weird pull in your chest and tunnel vision and you would hyperventilate over the thought of a yarn sale. You become so desperate for a project (a new one, an old one simply won't do) that you'd sell your little brother for a crochet hook/knitting needle. Sometimes the Urge is so strong, you actually suffer from Phantom Project Syndrome, where you swear you can feel the project between your hands even though you know it’s actually empty air. Yeah, I walked into a yarn shop over the weekend and practically crawled into the yarn bins. There was an alpaca skein I wanted to marry. I guess that paper mache project on the table will have to wait a little while longer.

Some people would find it strange that a knitting book has awakened the Urge in a crocheter, but I don’t find it all that weird. There are a lot of things that surround the processes of knitting and crochet that are similar. There’s the horror of not having enough yarn, the evils of too many projects at once, the shame of putting down one project in favor of another newer one, the frustration of a pattern that was apparently written by a drunk monkey on speed because it JUST DOESN’T WORK. Knitters and crocheters might have their differences, but we suffer many of the same obsessions and annoyances and family members who just don’t understand why you do a happy puppy wiggly dance when you finish a project. Either way, the Urge is also the same, and it has hit me hard.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to correct some stupid mistakes in a pattern then change it altogether and cackle evilly when my results are actually better.

I would like to take this moment to welcome everyone to my crochet/craft/whatever blog.

Okay, here's the thing: what I mostly do, what I love best is, crochet. I do, however, lots of other things that could be considered “crafty” and will get talked about here. However, I do not do “crafts”. If you're thinking of ornaments made out of panty hose and macrame, you've got it all wrong. Sure, I make some of my own Halloween decorations, but I'm learning to do things with paper mache that, as opposed to the cute little smiley ghosts your Aunt Wilma creates, would probably be creepy if they weren't so damn cool. I embroider, but I put to embroidery 14th century illuminations of dragons eating elephants and goat-like unicorns. (All hail the weirdness of the Middle Ages!) But, my love, my constant companion, the thing I always come back to, is crochet.

Crochet with good taste, that is. I do not mix burnt orange with avocado green unless I'm either doing shots of vodka or creating some new monstrosity to scare my friends. I do not add little bobbles. I don’t popcorn stitch unless someone is beating me with a bat with a nail in it. If you get a toilet paper cozy from me, you better find out what it is you did wrong and apologize. I produce lovely things with colors that fade into one another. I make mini dragons and enormous blankets and luscious scarves. And, everything is out of beautiful rich colors, unless someone with very bad taste wants me to make something, in which case my usual response is, “It’s your funeral.”

I am constantly seeking new patterns and new ideas and new ways of doing things that will give me a piece that can either be worn and wowed over or placed somewhere in the house to give a room that extra bit of awe. You will not see frilly, or as a friend of mine puts it, pippy-poo. I don’t do foo-foo. You will not ever see me glue pom-poms to flip flops or embroider anything with big-eyed children on it. I have been told I am an artist, but I prefer to think of it as the anti-crafting. I do things with my own twist, and they are typically things that most people either like or are slightly afraid of. If you’re looking for someone who can give you advice about one-stroke painting a hummingbird on your wall, go somewhere else. Martha Stewart doesn’t live here.