Knitting

I have no idea why I love it so much.

The flow of the yarn through your fingers as you help it assume different shapes? The click of the needles? Or the ability to take some string and make your grandson's Daniel Tiger Halloween costume? The availability of instructional videos on YouTube so you can learn new (to you) and advanced techniques?

There's a certain snobbery that I've discovered between and among knitters and crocheters. Knitters feel superior to those who only crochet, and if they don't feel that crocheters are a lower life form, they do feel that their projects are inferior to knitted ones.

Among knitters: "throwing" and "picking" controversies, also known as "continental" vs English. Expensive vs. less expensive needles; wood vs. bamboo vs. plastic vs. metal. Double pointed needles or magic loop. Knitting in the round as opposed to flat on two needles.

Acrylic vs. wool. Wool vs. alpaca. Cotton vs bamboo fibers. Tencel or hemp?

Hand-dyed and hand-spun vs. machine?

Ergonomic crochet hooks, lighted hooks (yes, so you can crochet in bed), plastic ones, wood, metal.

I was at our local Winter Fair earlier this month, and I spied a booth that displayed only baby hats. The maker was sitting on a stool, throwing (this is what I do) her yarn, and working flat (oh no! the baby's head will be permanently indented by the seam in the back!). I commented to her that I was happy to see her using that knitting style. She used to own a brick-and-mortar knitting shop and used to hear all the bickering among fiber artists (yes, we like to be referred to that way) regarding technique, fibers used, patterns, you name it. If there was a choice between two or more things, there were arguments about the best way to do it.

In my city, there are precious few local yarn shops. LYS, in knitting parlance. And yes, the whole personality of each shop is different. The owner in one, when I asked for a good acrylic worsted-weight in gray, navy, and white, told me "We only have natural fibers in this store." I may have heard "Hmpf," before she answered. 

And she hovered. I hate that. As a yarn lover herself, doesn't she get how mesmerized true addicts are by just the sight of shelves and shelves of the stringy stuff, not to mention the endless pleasure from touching and even reading the label? The intake of all that yarn has to offer is best enjoyed alone, thank you very much.

At a different yarn store, my presence barely caught the attention of the ladies sitting around a table knitting and chatting. They were knitting lace. Why in the world would anyone knit lace? Apparently it takes all of your powers of concentration, because I was invisible. Once I got someone to notice me, and after we talked about my grandson and baby hats, we were like best friends and since then every trip to that store has been a delight. So much so that I spent $75 on a wool/cashmere blend for a sweater for my grandson, who was 1 year old. He's over 2 now and it is still too big for him!

Nothing prepared me for my yarn store experience in Chattanooga, Tennessee. My husband and I accidentally stumbled upon it and I wish I had not set foot in there. Belonged in Diagon Alley. Long shelves of second-hand books and flea market stuff. Mass-market yarn rested in large bins in the front windows and lined the walls. Spinning wheels were everywhere, and large quantities of hand-dyed, hand-spun GORGEOUS yarn laid in laundry bins on tables and on the floor as far as the eye could see. I don't even know how far back the store went, but "on and on and on" seems about right. The owner was a 92-year-old woman with all of her marbles (well, a lot of them) who was the spinner and dyer. I didn't escape without spending $273 on yarn and listening to an hour's description of her process. My husband was ready to divorce me.