I’ve been furiously toiling away on the life-size doll legs while binge watching medium shows, when I just had to put them down.
Legs are almost done!
I already watched all of the Long Island Medium episodes that were available on Hulu and today, I was burning through Monica the Medium. My back was hurting, my eyes were watering and I wondered how long I had been sitting and crocheting. Turns out it was a really, really, really long time. I needed a break.
I got up, had some lunch and then spotted this naked pillow on the couch. It was naked Continue reading →
Am I the only only crocheter who doesn’t think crochet is relaxing?
The very first time I heard someone say crochet was relaxing, I remember smiling and nodding but in my head I was all Huh? Relaxing? Really? You think so? I guess I had never thought of it that way. Fun, obsessive, inspiring, creative, compulsive, expressive, exciting, thrilling, artistic, enjoyable, addictive, stress-inducing, soul-fulfilling, euphoric,
frustrating and possibly soothing (does NOT mean the same thing) but never relaxing. What’s so relaxing about obsessively working on a piece until my hands and wrists hurt? What’s so relaxing about looking at your piece and knowing you’re so far from being finished (I’m looking at you dragon cloak)? What’s so relaxing about planning and organizing and trying to learn new things and not always being successful? What’s so relaxing about obsessing over trying to finish a piece you can’t possibly finish in one sitting? What’s so relaxing about being pumped and excited to start a new project? Is it relaxing when I have to complete a gazillion pieces for the craft fair? And so many more things that aren’t that relaxing.
My daughter tagged me on Facebook in a post about a crochet jellyfish. She wants one. More specifically, she wants ME to make her one. I looked at this thing and thought it was cute and super simple to make. I didn’t think I even needed to use the pattern to make it but I looked it over just in case.
I came to the conclusion that yes, it was pretty simple and she could probably make it herself with my guidance. About a year ago she had accompanied me to a craft fair and it was slow so she was open to letting me teach her how to crochet (she was bored :-)). She never showed much interest in crocheting herself. She always relied on me to make her things. She is so creative in so many areas that I didn’t understand why I couldn’t get her to crochet. So on this particular day, I had her undivided attention and so I was finally able to convince her to try it.
Imagine my surprise when she picked it up immediately. Like, she was crocheting rows in no time and going in the round a few minutes later! I don’t think I’ve taught anyone that picked it up that quickly. I felt duped! My daughter was a prodigy and she refused to learn. She could have been crocheting ages ago. That was the first and last time she picked up a hook.
Back to the Jelly. I responded to her post by saying I could guide her in making the jellyfish, knowing full well she wouldn’t do it. She countered with, and I quote,”What’s the point of having a mother with these skills if I can’t exploit them???” I was my mother. My mother made stuff for her children all the time. Stuff we never asked for. The moment we asked for something, we got the “You can make it” talk. She always offered to walk us through it. Sometimes I took her up on it but mostly I just wanted her to make it for me. Mother was wise. LOL And now I get to lob those words at my own daughter and now I understand both sides. 🙂
We always celebrated Mother’s Day with my mom on May 10th because that’s when she said it was really Mother’s Day. In Mexico, it always falls on May 10th. So today, I’m celebrating Mother’s Day with my mom in my heart. My mom passed away almost three years ago and my siblings and I went through her things and kept those items that were the most valuable to us sentimentally. With the recent passing of my oldest sister, her children did a similar thing and generously passed some things back to us. I was fortunate enough to get some of my mom’s finished crochet pieces.
Mom was pretty amazing and some of her best pieces are gone but here are two of my favorites.
I was rifling through my bedroom drawers looking for something or other when I came across a rebozo (shawl) my mom made ages ago. I think it’s about 35 years old. I was a kid when she made it and I fondly remember how she painstakingly created it. She used this very thin yarn and I remember going with her to different places in Los Angeles and Tijuana looking for the right colors when she would run out. I thought the finished rebozo was so beautiful. From that day on and through the years, I would pull it out and look at it wherever she had it.
Towards the end my of my mom’s life, her things started getting boxed up as she was forced to move in to a nursing home. When it was sadly clear she was at the end of her life, I decided my siblings and I needed to go through her things and keep what we wanted and donate what we didn’t. My mom was a very practical woman and I knew she would want us to use her things instead of having then deteriorate in those boxes. It made me sad thinking of that beautiful rebozo, among other things, sitting in a dusty garage, boxed up and rotting while I cherished it so much. I staked my claim to that rebozo. My siblings were fine with that. They had similar feelings towards other things so I pulled out those boxes and went through them piece by piece. It was like a treasure hunt. Some things were nothing but trash but among that rubble were those gems we were looking for. I elatedly found it. Even after sitting in those not-so-cared-for boxes, it was still beautiful. It brought back so many memories. Memories of how my sister made a gorgeous one in blue. I remember making a small one with my mom walking me through the process. When my mom passed, I was able to wear that rebozo to her funeral. I wore some jewelry she gave me (my mom and I were always in cahoots when it came to jewelry) and that beautiful rebozo. I felt surrounded by my mom’s love. Since my mom’s passing, I have become the crocheter of the family, having taken up my mom’s mantel. Everyone assumed I had made the rebozo and delighting in my mom’s influence on me and I loved telling everyone that no, my mom made it decades ago. It made everyone feel good to know that a part of her was still there.
I don’t have my mom’s talent for looking at a crocheted piece and knowing how to duplicate it exactly. I stare at her shawl knowing that I can’t recreate it. Not exactly anyway. I remember some things about how it was made but making a new one is lost on me. That’s fine by me, though. I have hers and that’s more than enough.