Crafty Weekend

Last weekend was craft-a-palooza with my cousin and my grandma. The three of us worked hard sewing, supply shopping, and cooking for 3 days. It was so much fun that we already have a time set for our next crafty weekend.

Spending this quality time with Grandma reconnected us in a way that day-long visits just don't accomplish. You see, I grew up in my Grandma's house. My mom worked long hours so it was up to my grandma to take care of me. I tagged along wherever she went, watched her knit and sew, and helped stir the pot at dinnertime. We were like peas and carrots.

My Grandma with Grandpa and my mom and my cousin's dad.

I know what you're thinking....oh, she must have taught you how to knit and sew. Yeah, no. Let me tell you something about my Grandma, she has no patience to formally teach those things. I watched her do them and that is about it. It wasn't until I was in my 20's that I learned those skills from actual teachers in a classroom. It was probably a good thing for keeping the household peace because as I've mentioned before, my mom wasn't a fan of women doing such gender-assigned roles.

This past weekend I was reminded of Grandma's abundant energy. The woman is 87 years old and can go-go-go. She wakes up daily at about 5:30 a.m. and doesn't stop until 11 or so. When my cousin and I were pooped at 10 p.m. on Saturday night, she was grabbing a basket of laundry to fold and telling us to do the next step on our project. We did as we were told, without question. When Grandma is in the house, she is the HBIC. And it somehow feels right.

I know I promised to share with you what we made together during our crafting frenzy but I've changed my mind - and I hope you'll understand why. This Craft-a-palooza wasn't like our previous ones. Normally my cousin and I tackle quick and easy projects. However, when Grandma arrived, she brought a VERY interesting (old and tattered) item she made 40 years ago. So, we ripped it apart to make a pattern. We were so pleased with the final product, I've decided that I want to "formally" release the pattern sometime in the future. I really think it's unique and interesting enough to warrant a little fanfare. So, mum's the word for now!

As I ripped the seams to deconstruct that old project, the precision of my grandma's stitches set me back on my heels. Top stitches were perfectly aligned, every raw edge finished beautifully. And yet, I wouldn't call her a perfectionist...she does her work quickly but with a relaxed ease. She doesn't labor over every stitch like I do, the perfection just seems to flow naturally. I think I still have a lot to learn by watching her.

–Cassandra

Every stitch is knit with love

Now I'm going to just say it like it is, I'm not a hugger. Aside from my husband and children (or situations where others need a hug because they're crying or something) I'm not inclined to dole out too much affection. Those who are close to me know this. Most friends choose to hug me anyway... I think they love weirding me out. As a rule, you know I love you when:

1. we laugh together really loud, really often
2. you are the recipient of my hand-made items

As much as I grouse about crafting for others, I do it with love. Something compels me to make things for the little ones in my life, as well as big people who will appreciate the work that goes into the project. I'm not a hugger, I'm a doer.

I think I learned this behavior from my maternal grandmother. I grew up in the same house as her, and she is a very handy lady. She can cook, knit, and sew circles around me... and she is 85. My growing-up years were spent watching her make things for bake sales (seemed like weekly), taking her turn doing the washing and mending of the alter cloths and robes for the church, knitting for every new baby, and more. She's not a hugger either, she's a doer. Last winter I decided to make something just for her.

 I had a small amount of mustard-yellow fine mohair yarn in my stash for a while. Yellow is my grandma's favorite color so I decided to try my hand at lace knitting and make her a neck scarf. I was knitting along just fine for about 5 inches....until....scratch, scratch....teary-eyes....I can't see. I discovered that mohair and I didn't get along very well. My eyes were really swollen and red and kind of scaley. I felt like a cat with a hairball stuck in her throat. It was very unattractive.

However, I did what every good knitter would do, I went into denial and kept knitting. Certainly, it wasn't the mohair. It couldn't be! Must be my hand lotion, or the chlorine from the swimming pool, or my shampoo! There were visits to 2 different doctors and various remedies (including changing my hand lotion and shampoo) - and, yet, I still kept knitting. Eventually, I had to admit that it was the yarn but I was making this for my grandma and, dang it, it was going to get done!

After weeks of itchy eyes, I finished the lace scarf. It was lovely. I packaged it up to mail to grandma, took my knitting bag to the cleaners for a good de-mohairing, and vacuumed everything. It took a few months for my symptoms to go away, but they eventually did. I had truly suffered for my art, and for my grandma.

Alex modeling the scarf for me before it hit the mailbox.

Alex's post from Monday is the inspiration for telling this story. It made me reflect on my relationships with the people that I care about. Do they know that I care? I know how stingy I am with affection. Then I thought about the yellow scarf. I thought about how important it was to me to finish it and give it to my grandma, even if my eyes itched. I was making it for her because it reminded me of her. I thought about her every time I picked the project up. I know it's lame, but, I think that is when you can say "there is love in every stitch".

So what, I'm not a hugger. But, I just might knit you a sweater...

–Cassandra