My “Sitto” (Arabic for grandmother) taught me to crochet when I was eight years old. She passed away last fall, and I inherited a lot of her crochet things–hooks, old pattern books, and a box of granny squares which I wrote an essay about for an upcoming book, Hooked: A Crocheter’s Stash of Wit and Wisdom. I was excited to see that Amazon already has this book listed even though it will be five months before anyone can actually get their hands on it.

At any rate, lately, I think I’ve been “channeling” Sitto–her inner yarn shopper. For some reason I’ve been stocking up on as much discount worsted weight acrylic as I can get my hands on. I don’t know why! I have no real projects planned, I’ve just become enamored with the stuff–the way the afghans she made me 30 years ago still look just like they did in the seventies–I have a feeling this yarn was created to survive nuclear disaster.

Sitto grew up in the depression, raised kids during WWII, and had what my mom calls a “siege mentality.” When things were on sale, she’d stock up. When we went through her apartment, we found pounds and pounds of flour even though she hadn’t baked in years.

Somehow, she’s telling me–“buy more acrylic.” (and for some reason, I’m especially fond of Red Heart’s camouflage color–a friend was wearing a ribbed scarf made with it at SSK–the Silver Spring Knitter’s group last night, and it looked awesome–very urban chic, in a Red Heart sort of way.)

Well, I keep telling myself, I can use the yarn for teaching my kids’ classes… but that excuse can’t hold out forever. I had been very good about not buying any yarn for such a long time, I find it curious, that when I caved, it wasn’t for a skein of this, the most expensive yarn I’ve ever worked with, but possibly also the most gratifying–it’s like crocheting with clouds.

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Channeling My Grandmother