Dear Reader,
Fall has come. A few days ago I woke up in the morning and asked my sis (her name is Ana) to bring me a pair of socks to put on. Then, I wrapped myself as best as I could in the zigzagy blanket that I crocheted two and a half years ago. A warm cup of coffee would have been nice, but, since I am on a strict diet, I’m only allowed to drink natural juices and tea. Around this time of the year, artsy craftsy people get their hooks and needles on and start making all sorts of blankets, sweaters, shawls, cardigans, ponchos, hats, and all sorts of other little bits and pieces. This year, I am unable to join the crowd. I know you will tell me that nothing can stop me, but there is something stopping me (last week, my sister and I tried to record on how to make and attach tassels to a shawl; I was missing so many yarn threads and loops that it became frustrating and weird, so I asked Ana to show the instructions for me – it was the first time she ever worked with a crochet hook…anyway, it is the same when I crochet simple stitches as well: I start with a chain of 20, the first row ends up with 22 single crochet stitches, the second goes to 19, the third uppers into 22 again and so on…Plus, I am unable to stop the tears from flooding down my cheeks when I am holding the bloody plastic hook in my hand.). So, today, I’ll talk a little about crocheting and how crocheting was just about to turn my life around (maybe it can still do so?). I have wanted to talk about this subject for months.
