Love Affair with Crochet

Breibeest on flickr, for her goddaughter.

I fell asleep last night pondering the things that I am loving about my new hobby, crochet. Oddly enough, I did not have crochet-related dreams. This morning's Dream Journal Entry was quite hilarious actually, involving Obama, a pot of giant jelly beans, my elderly Grandmother looking oddly pregnant, a lengthy discussion on the construction of bunk beds, and some bear figurines.

Back to the topic, I have been trying to spend more time thinking about positive things, and try to think about the highlights of my day when I'm trying to drift off.

I waited until this year to take up a craft like crochet for several reasons, despite the fact that my Mother could have taught me long ago. From afar, it looks frustrating, or even boring, and as my Dad says, you'd think you'd make a few rows and think "okay, I did it, I'm done."

In actuality, there is a lot to love. The feel of the yarn wrapped around your hand, the feel of the project, and even just squeezing the skeins in the store, touches something deep inside. Like the beginning of a lifelong feeling that will grow over time. I've known some people who feel the same about wood and tools.

I enjoy the idea of taking shapeless "string" and creating something with shape, structure, and beauty. Functionality is good too, I suppose.

I was never one of those girls who liked to blog about the contents of her purse, although I do carry one with me constantly. Now that I seem to have this bag containing all of these little useful tools and such, I'm starting to identify.

For some reason, the box of yarn in my bedroom that is hiding from the cats is a comfort. It will always be there for me, if I feel like being fidgety.

I love to stare at my stitches.

Things are now available in turquoise, if I have some time to make them!

I feel like I have something in common now with almost every woman in my family, dating back across the years, as well as so many people around the world.