A dear friend, Lynn, believed that I should learn how to crochet. I was already into so many crafts, what’s one more? I could scrapbook, make cards, and bead jewelry. She believed that I needed to find the pleasure of a portable and relaxing hobby. The others don’t transport well.
After two years of nagging, she won! In my first lesson we learned a few things:
- I’m not good at reading crochet instructions (too many abbreviations)
- I’m no good at turning corners
- I’m a tight hooker
- I say bad words when frustrated (well, this wasn’t new)
I was to make a simple square dish cloth. These lessons culminated in my first project being an impenetrable sheath of triangle that could not be taken a part even with loud vocalizations. Had I done it right, I could have pulled out the yarn and started a fresh project. Nope, not me.
Lynn’s second lesson was to loosen me up. Shake out the hands. Watch a calming movie. Use a larger hook than is required. Shake out the hands again. After an hour or so, I was finally catching on. Within a few weeks, I’d actually made several square dish cloths. I moved on to start a scarf.
In the meantime, life happened and I got busy. Months later when I went back to crochet and had a third lesson as a refresher, I picked up the scarf again. I even finished within a few more months. Come to find out that over time, I had become a calm crocheter and had loose, healthy stitches. The only problem being that my scarf is now wider on one end than on the other. No, I, the phenomenal photo taker, do not have one single photo anywhere to prove that my first scarf is not perfect (and there will not be one).
Today, I thoroughly enjoy sitting down with hook and yarn. I can crochet happily for hours. I’ve not made a blanket yet, but I’ve done several scarves, small bags, and dish cloths. I’ve moved on from single crochet to double, and from squares to circles. I thank Lynn for this amazing gift.
In the beginning, I cussed constantly. I said every horrible thing I could think of at the time. I put together new phrases just to express the frustration. How dare she even consider teaching me such a horrific hobby?!
I was wrong. She was right. (See, Lynn, I put it in writing.) I take all of it back and pile upon her love, gratefulness, appreciation, and enthusiasm for teaching me to be a happy hooker!
I am blessed with amazing friends. Lynn has put up with a lot over the years. We disagree on many things, but on crafts, love of family and friends, and hope for a better tomorrow, we not only see eye to eye but also heart to heart.
Morale of the Story: Don’t discount that your friends know you better than you know yourself. The good ones do!
Humor Happens 