I've mentioned before, I'm sorely lacking in
all some of the girly genes. All my male readers should thank God they aren't involved with an inadequate female. Decorating, shopping as a form of entertainment, sewing, fabric in any form whatsoever, it all makes me hyperventilate.
I'm a pretty good cook. My brother, however, is a better cook (and he's a better cook than the vast majority of women I know too). I can tell you when I see a house decorated in a way I love, but putting a house together myself is a completely different matter. Clearly, I spent way too much of my childhood playing baseball with my brother and his friends when I should have been learning girly shit.
I just never liked all the girly shit.
One year when I was in school, I was required to take a class titled, "Creative Stitchery." I don't believe the teacher had ever seen stitchery quite as creative as mine. Over the course of the class, we had to embroider, crochet, knit, and sew. I want to go on record saying I did okay with the crocheting part. Meaning, that was the only part I didn't fail. At the end of the course, the teacher agreed to pass me if I agreed not to sign up for any type of stitching or sewing class the following year.
It was a win-win.
One of the wonderful things about writing Twenty Four At Heart
, is I've met a ton of fantastic people all over the world. One of them, is my friend Linda
and she excels in areas of stitchery which stymie me. I've seen pictures of Linda's creations and I'm astounded at her talent. I have no talent. None, whatsoever, in any area. Linda is an artist with a crochet hook in her hands.
Awhile back, Linda
offered to make me whatever I want, a hat, a scarf, or whatever. She did this because she's an amazing person and a loyal reader and friend. She recommended I pick out a yarn I love and said she would do all the work. I decided on a scarf, but I didn't get around to going to the yarn shop until last weekend. Linda lives in South Carolina and she knew where my nearest yarn shop is here in Orange County. The woman is talented
On Saturday I found myself parked outside the yarn store, trying not to hyperventilate prior to entering. Once I walked in, my heart nearly stopped. There were fifteen women seated around a huge table taking a knitting class. Young women, and old women, all holding knitting needles and skeins of yarn. They were girly women, not impostor women like myself.
A sales lady approached me to see if I needed help. Panicked, I looked around the store at the hundreds and hundreds of skeins of yarn. I pulled a paper out of my purse and read to her the quantity and type of yarn Linda had recommended. The class was amused.
The sales lady asked me a few questions, none of which I knew the answer to. This seemed to amuse everyone even more. Then she escorted me on a tour of the shop.
As we walked aisles, she said things like, "That's a very nice Alpaca, but we don't have enough for what you need." Or, "These are wools, but you can't ever clean them." Or, "What did you say your requirements are again?"
My requirements were 1) I wanted something soft and 2) I was leaning toward brown for the color.
"Soft … and … brown?" she asked.
I glanced at the knitting class and noticed the ear splitting grins.
Maybe they were just impressed with my in depth knowledge of yarn?
I ended up with a soft, and sort of lime-ish green yarn.
Won't that look pretty once it's made into a scarf? (It's real-life color isn't as bright as it looks in this photo.)
I was only at the store about 30 minutes. Something happened during that time, however. All those women taking the knitting class? They were all laughing their asses off by the time I left.
I'd like to say they were laughing with me. Unfortunately, they were most definitely laughing at me.
One by one they started turning their attention away from the class they were taking to the inadequate blonde woman trying to pick out a SOFT yarn. A few of them offered suggestions. One woman tried to talk me into taking a knitting class.
I gulped. I explained I'm recovering from a car accident and I only have one working arm, but thank you anyway. I did not tell them about my experience in my Creative Stitchery class.
Unfortunately, hearing I only have one working arm got more people interested in me. I was becoming the pied piper of the yarn store as more and more women followed me in my quest. Everyone wanted to help, but mainly they wanted to laugh at my running commentary as I wandered the store.
"I met an alpaca last week in Oregon," I said as I fingered some, soft, lovely, yarn.
"Oooh, this is soooooo soft," I moaned as I groped a skein of something blue. "I'd like to go home and sleep with this one."
"I thought about making a sweater once, but I knew it would come out with only one arm."
Looking wounded, I added, "I'm not joking!"
Eventually I filled my arms with skeins of the yarn pictured above.
"Will this work?" I asked.
The ladies laughed again, and then they assured me it will work just fine. I think they were ready to adopt me at that point.
So tell me, are you
talented? Can you knit, crochet, or sew things? (I'm asking you too Mr. Goodfather
, and Mr. Allan
Or are you like me?