On this Friday night after a long, challenging week, the make something prompt invited me to work only with blue materials. That left nearly limitless options. I craved departure from my daily routine. Something tactile and soft. Something to touch, other than a computer keyboard.
In my neglected yarn stash, I reunited with several skeins of blue fiber. Mixed in with a jar of knitting needles, I found a handful of crochet hooks, barely (if ever) used. For more than a year, my daughters and I have been talking about learning to crochet. We can all knit, so it seems a natural next step. I even bought us an online class at Craftsy; but it’s been sitting in my account, unwatched, for months.
So, with all the guys of our household occupied, and the youngest girl playing with a neighbor friend, my 10-year-old daughter and I sat down with blue yarn, crochet hooks, and my laptop tuned to Craftsy.
“For now, we’ll just learn to chain,” I told her. I confessed that chaining is as far as I have ever progressed in crochet, and it’s as far as I had the energy to go tonight. I was sure she and I could get into a chaining groove … at least enough to create a chain sufficient to “write” a word for today’s post.
As a child, I got so good at chaining that I could crochet long strands of sewing thread with the finest hooks. Mom used my delicate chains to make button loops for dresses, blouses, and doll clothes. But to this day, whenever I attempt the next step—single crochet—I wind up puzzling over which loop should be next to receive the jab of my hook. Inevitably, I choose the wrong hole, and the resulting “fabric” clumps and gaps unattractively.
So we focused on chaining. Hannah gave it a good try, but stopped before long, saying, “I’m good.” (Shorthand for “I’ve had enough, thanks.”) I stayed at it awhile longer. In spite of my childhood chaining prowess, tonight the task felt new. My grip was tight, my motions awkward, and my stitches uneven. Even so, after a few minutes, I was thrilled to see that three or four feet of blue chain had collected next to me on the sofa. It was enough.
“I’m good,” I thought. So I arranged my word and snapped a photo …
… before the cat could interfere.