Hooked for Life

by Mary Beth Temple

  Crocheters, though, like community. We like to hang out with other crocheters, talk about crochet, and examine new yarns and new patterns. Like attracts like, and crocheters around the world are beginning to find one another. And it is good, because no crocheter in the world has to feel like she is alone in her obsession; there are thousands of yarn-addicted folks out there just like her, and she wants to meet them all! Forums, chat rooms, podcasts, photo streams, even videos … so much to see! So many people to hear from! More crochet information than she ever knew existed in the whole wide world and at her fingertips!

  The problem now is, do you talk about crochet, or do you crochet? Do you get involved in all the heartfelt stories of those who are collecting crochet for various charities, or do you get out your hook, make something for the group you read about last week, and get it in the mail? Should you start the cute sweater that your favorite blogger showed on her blog yesterday, or should you keep searching because there might be something better out there? Should you download every episode of your favorite podcast, or see what the other podcasters are up to?

  It’s called the Web because one thing leads to another with ease. You might start out in one little corner of cyberspace and after a few minutes (or let’s be honest, hours) of clicking, you are led elsewhere. I won’t say led astray, because there is no astray here—you are finding more and more fascinating things, so fascinating that it is very difficult to turn off the darn computer and go do something else. Like eat, or sleep, or crochet.

  But I am going to tell you something for your own good. Most of that information will still be there tomorrow. And the next day. Archives are magical things and just because you found a cool blogger does not mean that at that exact moment you have to go back five years and read every post she ever wrote in order of date. You can pace yourself on yarn and book reviews and photos. You can’t start fifteen things at once, anyway. I wholeheartedly encourage you to discover all the magical crochet stuff that is now online. Just make sure you don’t forget to stop and use your crochet hooks from time to time. In the end, all we really need is some yarn and a hook.

  Too Pretty to Use

  You have the whole crocheting-gifts-for-others thing down. You have mad crochet skills and no longer need to stick to rectangular objects. You stalked the happy couple before the wedding to see what their favorite colors were, analyzed the need for dishcloths at your best girlfriend’s house (no, she doesn’t always use the dishwasher), and checked the preferred outerwear colors of your favorite babysitter. You have taken note of allergies, style preferences, and sizes. You have taken utility into consideration as well as style. You may, in fact, havelearned the lesson that not everyone in the world appreciates a handmade gift, and you have crossed those philistines off your lists. In short, you have crocheted the perfect gift—not just something you had a burning desire to make, but something that was uniquely suited to the recipient.

  And you gave it to them. And they reacted perfectly—with appreciation of the time and thought, and dare I say it, even the love that you put into it. Your work here is finished … both gift giver and gift recipient are well pleased with themselves and with each other.

  Time passes. You are thinking fond thoughts, maybe even planning their next crocheted gift. And yet… the afghan remains in the closet, the dishcloths in the linen drawer in the kitchen, the gloves folded neatly on a shelf. “What happened?” you wonder. “This gift was perfect, I know it was.” So you wait, and you hint, and you try for patience, and finally you can’t stand it anymore so you blurt it out, “What happened to the gift?” “Oh. We still have it,” comes the reply; “it’s wonderful.” “Was it the wrong color? The wrong size? The wrong fiber?” you ask. “Oh, no,” you hear back. “Then where in the heck is it?” you finally bellow, all semblance of sanity gone. You know you might have gone a teensy bit too far when the recipient backs slowly away from you, but you can contain yourself no longer. How can someone refuse to use something when clearly it is perfect?

  Then comes the answer. “It is too pretty to use!” This is the answer from hell because there is no fighting it. They haven’t said it is the wrong color, wrong size, wrong fiber, wrong gift. They are agreeing with you that the gift is perfect. In fact, it is so perfect that they don’t want to use it because, if something happens to it, it will be perfect no longer! They can’t put the afghan out because the toddler might spill grape juice on it. They can’t use the dishcloth because their dishes are, well, dirty and the cloth might become gross. They can’t wear the gloves because they drink coffee on the run every morning and what if they had a spill? They would rather preserve the gift as a museum piece than run the risk of doing your gift damage.

  It isn’t that they don’t appreciate your work (like Uncle Paul who wanted to know why you bothered to crochet him a scarf when he had a perfectly good one from the dollar store). It is that they are so appreciative of the work that went into it that these friends of yours would rather deny themselves the pleasure this item might bring them than do it damage. A noble thought, but one that is bound to make you crazy. They think they are respecting your work and doing you a favor.

  There is only one way to combat the “It’s too pretty to use” excuse, and that is recipient education. Explain to the person that the item was meant to be used—the cotton yarn you used is sturdy for a reason, the acrylic can go in the washer and the dryer, the linen will become softer with use. Explain all the best ways to wash the item if it does get dirty. Explain that the item brings no joy to anyone if it is locked in the closet.

  And if that doesn’t work, beg. “If you use this gift and it does wear out, I get to go buy more yarn and make another one without guilt! Please use this item, please please pretty please with cashmere on top!” Your recipients are your friends and they want to make you happy, right? This technique almost always works. And if it doesn’t, tell them they go on the “buy gift from dollar store” list, right next to Uncle Paul. And no one wants that.

  There Is No Wrong Way to Crochet

  The other night in a crochet chat room someone asked me if I held my hook in a pencil grip or a knife grip. “I don’t know,” I replied. “Well, pick up a crochet hook and look,” she said; “I am really curious.” So I picked up a crochet hook (because there is always one nearby, right?) and made a stitch or two. And I still didn’t know which kind of gripper I am. If I tried to hold a pencil or a knife the same way that I hold my crochet hook, I would neither be able to write longhand nor eat. So I pretended I didn’t see her question and signed off shortly thereafter. There is an episode of SpongeBob Squarepants in which SpongeBob tries to analyze how he ties his shoes, and gets so befuddled that he can’t do it anymore. I do not want to forget how to crochet.

  I know that I crochet oddly. I know this because I have watched a million other crocheters ply their needles and they never do it the same way I do it. Periodically, I think I should learn to crochet “correctly” and I will frustrate myself for a few hours trying and then I give up and do it the way I always have. I end up with results that please me, are recognizable as crochet stitches, have a nice even gauge that only comes from thousands of stitches of practice, and so I get over worrying about my odd process. It is what it is.

  I take a similar, laissez-faire approach to following patterns. I try, I really do try, to be obsessive and follow every little note and every little detail, but sometimes I can’t quite catch what the designer wanted me to do, so I punt. I look at the photo, I look at what I am doing, I have the general gist in my head of what comes next, and so I just do what I think needs done. Is mine going to look exactly like the photo? Maybe not. But it will do what it needs to do, it will be done, and done is good.

  Sometimes my crocheted items come out not looking at all like the model in the photo—not because I deliberately chose to flout the instructions, but because maybe I was not paying quite enough attention. I have a wonderful way of rationalizing these kind of outcomes, too. I do not
make mistakes—I make design modifications. I modify the pattern to get the results I want. Or at least that’s what I pretend I do. In actuality, my criterion for frogging the heck out of something is pretty simple. Is whatever boneheaded thing I did symmetrical, and therefore it looks like it was on purpose, even if it wasn’t? Yes? It’s a design modification and it stays in.

  When I taught drama, I used to tell my students that if they forgot their lines they should just say something that furthered the scene along. “After all,” I told them, “the audience isn’t following along in the script.” I feel the same way about patterns. As long as someone is not coming at me with a pattern in her hands to do a line-by-line comparison between my garment and the text, then it’s all good. I will get to the finish line eventually and with most of the plot intact, and 99.9 percent of people looking on won’t know the difference.

  Finish or Frog, or the Fine Line between WIP and UFO

  For those of you who are unfamiliar with the terms, WIP means “work-in-progress,” and UFO is “unfinished object.” When does a WIP become a UFO? To me the issue is the P for progress. If no progress has been made in a long time, it’s usually either time to muscle through it until it’s finished, or rip it out and put the yarn back in the stash until it calls out to be made into something else.

  Of course, the definition of a long time will vary from crocheter to crocheter. Some folks consider a long time to be a week or two, some measure a long time in months, and I have to admit, I have had projects around for years before I actually did something about them one way or the other.

  Most of the time you dig up one of the moldy oldies not because you were looking for it, but because you were looking for something else and it got it in your way. If you greet it like a long-lost friend, more than likely you are going to finish it, and soon. Projects like that can be a real boost to the part of you that requires instant gratification—you can get something done in half the time you would normally take because a good chunk of it is done already. Wow, a new sweater in a week! That is always pretty exciting.

  If finding this project makes you cringe, break out in a cold sweat, or run away in fear, for goodness sake, frog the thing so it can’t haunt your dreams any longer. There is no such thing as time wasted crocheting. Even if you spent hours on whatever this is, if you are going to hate it when it’s over, rip it out and move on. At least you got some good crocheting hours out of it, so don’t make yourself crazy finishing something you don’t really want anymore. And maybe the yarn would make you happy if it was worked up into something else.

  Here are some common reasons that the finish-or-frog question comes into play, and some hints on how to make the right decision.

  You find a partially finished baby sweater and the baby is in high school. This one could go either way. Clearly the intended recipient doesn’t need it, but on the other hand, there are always babies needing lovely crocheted gifts. I base this one on this condition: if it has weathered the years well, I would finish it and be prepared for the next baby shower I was invited to. Bonus points on timing if the original baby is now expecting—you can finish the sweater, give it to the newborn, and have a funny story to tell at the shower.

  You find what was supposed to be a cute, trendy garment well after the trend has passed. This, too, is a timing issue. If the trend has recently passed into fashion oblivion, frog it. You aren’t going to want to wear it out in public, and the yarn is probably good for something else. If the trend passed into oblivion twenty years or more ago, you might want to finish it—it’s going to come back into style any minute!

  It was ugly then, it’s ugly now. Frog it. Life is too short for ugly crochet. We all occasionally make mistakes putting projects together—frog it and forget it. At least there won’t be proof of your error in judgment, just some more yarn sitting on the shelf.

  The pattern is missing or so poorly written that it made you crazy, which is why it got stuffed in the closet in the first place. Frog it now before it strikes again! Crochet is supposed to be a leisure activity—sure, it can be challenging, but it shouldn’t be something that makes you want to tear your hair out. Destroy this project before it destroys you!

  The frog-or-finish question does not have to be settled immediately upon discovering a candidate. Sometimes what you need to do is work a few rows on the piece. If it’s fun, finish it. If you smack your forehead and say, “That’s why I put this down in the first place—what a pain in the rear!” you may now frog with impunity.

  I have already acknowledged that I am the type of person that can’t throw out yarn, there are some people who can’t frog half a project no matter how much they know that even if they finish it they won’t be happy with it. In this case, you still have a few options.

  Find a crochet buddy in the same situation and trade WIPS. She finishes yours, you finish hers. It’s quite possible that the WIP that made you crazy will amuse your friend and vice versa, so this one works out great—two FOs for the price of one and no one wants to cry.

  If it’s wool or another animal fiber, felt it! Felt the work you did and then turn the felt into something useful. Since you can cut crochet after it’s felted without it unraveling, you can turn the piece into anything from a purse or tote bag to a pot holder to a set of coasters. You wind up with something useful without investing much more time into your losing proposition.

  Donate it. I have a wonderful senior citizens’ center nearby that will graciously accept UFOs as well as yarn donations. Some of the ladies think it is fun to repurpose a UFO, so there is always someone who is happy to see it.

  Develop a taste for free form! Finish it up if you must, but you don’t have to finish it up in the way you first thought you would. Forget the pattern and make it go together whatever way you want it to. The pattern police are not going to come and take you away, I promise. Although the free-formers might come and collect you as one of their own!

  For afghans, throw an edging on what you have and call it done. So what if you intended to make a king-size bedspread but it’s only 18 inches square? It’s now done! If you can’t use it, donate it to a pet shelter or clinic. Many shelters collect smallish afghan parts to put in with a frightened animal to give it something to snuggle up with. Your work will be put to good use.

  If you really don’t want to finish it, and you really can’t bear to frog it, give it to a friend to frog. When I was in a local yarn store last week, two of the women who worked there were patiently unpicking and rewinding the yarn from a completely finished sweater. The maker hated it when she was finished with it and didn’t know anyone it would fit, but couldn’t bear to frog it herself. Maybe you have a friend who is ruthless. Or not ruthless, but able to rip out your project because she is not nearly as emotionally attached to it as you are. Let her at it.

  No matter what you choose to do with a moldy oldie, you will probably be happier in the long run if you do something with it rather than let it continue to gather dust. And if your project pile goes down significantly, you won’t feel the least bit guilty about starting something new!

  What’s That Again?

  My mother tells the tale of her early crocheting adventures in the language of limited yarn choice. There was wool, there was acrylic, and there was cotton. It came in various weights, but those were pretty much her choices. She bought her yarn at the five-and-ten or the discount store, not at the local yarn store. She bought exactly how much she needed for the project she wanted to do (plus one skein for extra in case she ran out), and when one thing was finished, she saved up and bought the yarn for the next. She didn’t acquire yarn as I do—it was something you needed, not something you lusted after. Mom would no more collect yarn than she would, I don’t know, plastic wrap. There just weren’t enough choices to make yarn double as a collectible item.

  A few years back I took her to a beautiful yarn store near her home. I had a project in mind and wanted to buy some yarn for it (as opposed to using four of the hundreds
of skeins in my stash, but I digress). I still remember the look on her face as she sat there looking around the store at all the colors, weights, and fibers. This particular store is airy and open and extremely well lit, so the cases of yarn look like museum displays—each one containing something more eye-catching than the last. She still didn’t buy anything (although I succumbed to some cashmere/merino blend), but she greatly enjoyed the trip.

  Her wonder at the huge variety of fibers available got me to thinking about what yarn is made from. The plant fibers are pretty easy to identify—cotton and linen, right? Oops, there’s also rayon (from cellulose, which is wood fiber), corn or soy fiber, ramie (which is related to nettles, but as a yarn has no sting), and I guess all those seaweed/kelp/sea silk fibers would be plant based, too. Of course, within the plant family you have a lot of choices between organically raised, organically produced, and traditionally produced items, and dyed or undyed colorways. Still, a plant is a plant.

  Then there are the animal fibers. Generally, I think if you can look at a yarn label and get a mental image of the cute little fuzzy animal whose back it came from, you are doing a fine job. Sheep give us wool, but these days wool is indentified in some cases not just as wool, but as coming from a specific breed—merino comes to mind, as does Blue-Faced Leicester, Corriedale, and Rambouillet (actually Rambouillet sounds like it should be the star of a sheepy action film, but again I digress). Then there is angora (the rabbit kind), angora (the goat kind), mohair (also from goats), llama, alpaca (my favorite), and qiviut (which would be my favorite if I could afford more than an ounce a year). Some intrepid folks spin dog hair, but I don’t want to buy any of that—I keep thinking the wet sheep smell I get when my minimally processed wool sweater gets caught in the rain is one thing, but wet dog smell would be quite another thing …