I am a jack-of-all trades when it comes to the arts. I paint murals. I sew. I make jewelry. I sculpt clay.
One art form has eluded me, intimidated me, for the past decade:
The textile arts, namely: crocheting and knitting.
Now, knitting I clearly suck at. I took a class back in 2005, and after fifteen minutes of listening to a rather impatient instructor, I walked out.
My mother casually mentions to me the other day, ”I used to crochet back in the 70s. Maybe I should pick it up again. It’d be good for these arthritic hands.”
Always wishing my mom would pursue some sort of hobby with me, I signed us up for a class the very next day.
So last Sunday, off we went to a very zsa-zsa textiles shoppe, in Chicago’s hipster Wicker Park neighborhood, for an introduction to crochet class. The class assumed you knew at least the basics. I knew nothing. That was a bit intimidating. Most of the other class attendees were proficient knitters wanting to learn crochet.
My mom on the other hand, after 5 minutes, picked up the crochet hook, and rocked it like it was 1975. Meanwhile, I struggled and cracked jokes that I clearly needed REMEDIAL introduction to crochet.
but that seems pretty far off, considering I barely learned to make “a chain”, while the others in my class where whipping their crochet hooky-things around like none other using words like double stitch and turn and gauge and I’m all like, “Can you repeat that?”
I’m not used to being “bad” at things. So this latest endeavor, is humbling in the least.
But it’s a start.