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Defying all fabric capabilities, this laced Crochet table is from Marcel Wanders,

a Dutch designer who was one of the first droog designers. I would have loved to be

one of the crocheters commissioned to make this table or the limited edition Crochet Chair.

Sometimes we don't realize how much family and friends appreciate our fiber craft.  Just the other day, my Mother called me to tell me that she had a co-worker who needed some crochet done (her words).  No "hi" or "how-dee-do" just So-and-So needs some crochet done and to give her a call.  When my Mother says to call someone, you do.  Right then.  Not later.  So I did.

I didn't think my Mother ever gave any thought to my crochet.  Although I have gifted family and friends with all manner of handcrafted accessories, I've only made my Mother a few items - a cap, a shawl.  I wasn't sure how she felt about handcrafted gifts; all communication about the things I have made her came through my sister.  Needless to say, I was surprised that she called me herself to say that she had offered my services to her co-worker.  My mother -- pimping my crochet. 

I was going to call this post, "Getting Pimped," but apparently it doesn't mean what I thought it did.  According to the Urban Dictionnary, getting pimped now means writing or drawing on someone [who] is passed out due to intoxication.  Shudder.  When you get pimped in medicine (the Socratic method or as some interns call it, shame-based learning), it means that your upper level, attending, or your professor basically tears you a new arsehole in front of your peers by firing off a million questions designed to put you on the spot and make you look like a dumb ass in front of everyone.  Makes no sense.  I thought getting pimped was when someone puts you "into the game" for some form of consideration.  Progress.  Sigh.

So, I did as my Mother said and called her co-worker.  We talked briefly about her 6-year old daughter's desire to have a green and red and pink sweater "just like the one she saw on TV."  She's not quite sure exactly what her daughter saw or wants but is working on it.  Hopefully, in a month or so, she will let me know what she wants made.  Although we have exchanged contact information, I'm not worried about us keeping in touch.  We both know where my mother works.

Now, I am stuck without a name for this post. Any suggestions?

You Say Crotch-et-y, I Say Cro-chet-ee . . .

Crotch-et-y --adj. Capriciously stubborn or eccentric. Given to crotchets, subject to odd notions, whims. Having a difficult and contrary disposition.
--Synonyms: fussy, eccentric, grouchy.

At lunch last week my good friend Linda said I was a bit "crotchety." It all started when another friend noted that I was the only person at the table wearing a watch, adding that, "in this day and age, why wear something that only does one thing?!" Lazybones that I am, I told her I refuse to pull out my cell phone or blackberry just to see the time. Looking back, I guess I was a bit stubborn in my defense of wristwatches, admittedly a bit capricious since my watch is stuck on 9:00 as I wait to find a replacement battery.

Naturally, lunch and meandering conversations being what they are, we were stymied by the question, what the hell is a crotchet?

Some have suggested that perhaps being crotchety might be an affliction of people who crochet. Hrmp! While it is true that "crotchety" does sound and look very much like "crochety," and that only a T separates the two, it doesn't help that Internet search engines assume you can't spell and must mean "crochet" so offer links to all things crochet. The etymology of "crotchety" is related to the crotchet, which in 1573 was a "whim or fancy," which seems to have taken its meaning from a 1394 usage as an architectural ornament of curled leaves, which in turn may have been taken from the Old French word for hook. The Online Etymology Dictionary says the sense evolution is obscure. Really?! Seems to make perfect sense to me -- curled leaves resembling a hook that during the Renaissance might well have been considered quite whimsical or fanciful. A hook is also a barb and can be quite sharp. Thus someone who displays an odd fanciful or whimsical notion or uses a sharp tone (i.e., grouchy) is crotchety. See?! Not exactly rocket science.

And certainly not limited to the practitioners of my favorite craft, as we all know and bitch about crotchety knitters, crotchety weavers, crotchety bosses, crotchety neighbors, crotchety friends, crotchety . . . The list is endless.

Being called crotchety gets one to thinking, thinking about getting old. Admit it, only people of a certain age remember when that word was in common usage. When have you ever heard people complain about some "crotchety little kid?" I turned "mmph" this year and it finally hits you that you are now the third oldest person in the office and that you are old enough to be mama to almost half your co-workers. It's a bit mind-boggling, considering that you feel as young as they are. Sometimes act like it too.

Am I a crotch-et-y old lady? No?

Am I a cro-chet-ee old lady? Yes. And proud of it.

Should you choose to accept this mission . . .

A fellow yarnie tagged me with a new mission: find the sixth photo in my sixth photo folder and write about it. Sounds simple enough but then I got to thinking (always a dangerous thing my friend Lisa always says because I say that about her): do I have six folders in My Pictures folder? Do I have even six photos in that folder? Worse yet, what if the photo is stupid, embarrassing, or just plain crass? So, with some trepidation, I embarked upon my mission impossible.

How fortuitous that my sixth-sixth is one of my favorite pics. Here is 4-1-1:

My father, the curmudgeon (I'm being nice), was visiting from Utah and had taken the girls and I out to dinner. My father -- Uncle Earl to a slew of nieces and nephews, and Paw Paw to his grandchildren -- likes to push the parental envelope by teaching his grandchildren and nieces and nephews silly things -- like how to cuss or by telling them slightly inappropriate stories. On this day, Lariat had just gotten braces and was actually quite excited and proud. She looked good in them too, despite the fake tattoo on her cheek. As usual, as we were sitting waiting to order, Paw Paw was regaling his granddaughters with some nonsense or another. I was happily snapping photos with my new phone. I don't remember what story my father was telling but was fortunate to snap this pic just as Lariat registered her reaction with a very vocal "Ewwww."

Now, my father is not the only one who borders on the silly in an effort to entertain. Lariat thought to liven things up by sticking crayons up her nose and exclaiming, "Look at me! I am a walrus!" Go figure the mind of a 13-year old.

The evening ended on a good note. The food was good, and there weren't any arguments. Of all the ones taken that evening, I like this photo best.

Now that I have told you about that photo, I must explain the rules for the five people for whom I have selected to take up this mission.

Linda's Yarn Closet
Wannabe Domestic Goddess
DeltaPurl
Knit One, Purr Two
Unraveling Sophia

Rules:
1) Go to your photo folders
2) Select the sixth file folder
3) Open it and select the sixth photo in that file folder
4) Write a story for that picture, post it and
5) Select five bloggy friends to tag
6) Be sure to let them know they've been tagged

Good luck if you choose to accept this mission. This blog post will not self-destruct after 10 seconds. It's on the Internet, so it is forever.

Vintage

I'm into vintage patterns these days. They seem to have so much more to offer in crochet, particularly when it comes to wearable fashion. Although not a fan of doilies -- using or making -- I see their construction as ways to improve my skills. They also can be modified to make some beautiful lace shawls. I also think I was hooked by the film noir look of the photos. The draw you right into the photo and straight to the item being featured. Today's photographers of contemporary crochet magazines should take a cue from vintage patterns such as these.

Here are a couple of my recent acquisitions:

Some pretty cool patterns include this Star-Stitch Crocheted Vest made from 990 yards of cotton thread size 5 and a #7 steel crochet hook.

Although I doubt I would make the acorn gadget as pictured, the acorns themselves are quite cute and would make interesting embellishments to a hat, or as buttons on a child's sweater.

These crochet gloves look quite snazzy and use about 320 yards of No 5 cotton crochet thread. I think I will add two columns of cables up the back for a little variety.

This Kids Sweaters booklet feature both knit and crochet patterns.

And of course I could not resist this little gem, as I look for ways to improve my basic knitting skills.
These patterns serve to reinforce what a crochet instructor taught me -- that crochet fabric can be quite supple when the right yarn and right hook are used. In this case, a fine gauge yarn (or thread) and a larger hook.

Necessity and Innovation

Centuries ago, the Greek philosopher Plato wrote "Necessity, who is the mother of invention. . ." With the passage of time, we have become less succinct in describing that moment when a need or problem encourages creative efforts to meet that need or solve the problem. Simply put, if worse comes to worst, people will apply all their imagination and skill to deal with the problem. Truer words and all that.

Today, one of my crochet "mentees" came to work and proudly showed off a hat she had made. For a relative beginner, just learning to read patterns, she did quite well. Her stitches were even and sure. She learned two new techniques -- the back-loop-only rib and hdc2tog. She even ripped back a part of the ribbed brim to correct several rows where she had inadvertently added an extra stitch. I had told her that the mistake could easily be hidden when the brim was attached to the main body of the hat. But she took the high road and frogged away -- she's getting good. Linda would have been proud.

So, where does necessity come into the picture? My friend's first attempt at seaming (the pattern required the hat to be crocheted flat and then seamed up the side) was not exactly invisible. To help her make the seen unseen, she asked how to make the seam more invisible. I picked the seam apart and reached for the stainless steel yarn needle that I keep tacked to the wall of my cubicle (I subscribe to the Girl Scout motto -- be prepared) but it was missing. We next tried to make do with the too-large hook (an "I" hook in permanent residence in the pencil/pen cup next to my computer), but to no avail. Then it hit me! A needle is just a straight piece of metal with a loop at one end. So why not unbend a paper clip into the desired shape. Smarticles, huh!?

You would think it would have worked but the eye of my makeshift needle kept catching the yarn -- the problem was we couldn't bend the eye into a perfectly closed loop. We were at a loss until another co-worker and fellow crocheter suggested we tape the the needle, covering the exposed loop. Simple but quite effective. We were back in business and the hat was reseamed in less than 10 minutes and looking quite smart. Even better smarticles (thanks, Mayra).

Yes, the need for some things can bring about new inventions, or in our case, makeshift whatnots.

Mater Artium Necessitas. Three words. How's that for brevity?