So, there is actually another thing I learned on vacation. And I use the term “learned” as one would use the term “LMAO” seeing as I am pretty sure no one has actually “laughed their ass off” as I am relatively sure that I did not actually learn a damn thing. You see, my cousin’s wife is 7 months pregnant. So while the rest of the adults were all hedonistic and hell-raisers, she was calm and crocheting. Crocheting. At the beach. (I am not exactly sure what law she broke by doing that, but I guarantee there is at least one I can cite her for.)
Well, by day 5 we were rather sunburned, sun-stroked and sun-over-it in the heat of the day and decided to take a lesson in How To Crochet. Now when I was in school I knew better than to drink before a big lesson on the basics of a new skill. You miss that lecture and you are toast for the rest of the semester. But no one warned me that the lesson was going to be held. No one took away the Pina Colada before class. It was SO not my fault. And yes, I am just saying that to cover my butt in the event that I am just too stupid to get this.
I watched her wrap, loop, pull, loopy, wrapping, tucking, etc. Oh how easy it looked. I watched. I asked questions. I “learned” how to crochet. Except that she left. And I left. Now what I have managed to do is knot, furl, twist, cuss, fray and bend a crochet hook. I am thinking I not so much learned as I–monitored and got cocky.
You see, I can do one long ass row. (Do you even call it a row??) But then…THEN they expect you to turn that bitch around and go back down the other side. One time I managed to take a row (??) of 30, go back down the side and make it a third the original size when I got back to my starting place. Not so much right.
Another time I managed to make this really awesome….KNOT.
And then there was the time I made the yarn look like a cat had had “relations” with it and then beat the hell out of it.
See? Not so much “learned” as become totally and completely obsessed. To the point of walking around my house mumbling and shouting, “But HOW DO YOU TURN?! For the love of all things yarnish, HOW do you TURN?” My children are a little afraid. My husband is just protecting his privates from the wrath of the crochet hook and me. All I can ask is that if you see a crazy lady walking around the streets with a 75 foot chain of what could have been something great but is just a 75 foot long beginning of nothingness but a series of loop wrap pull loop wrap pull until she no longer cared about eating, bathing or even blogging…well, just be nice to me. And for the love of all things yarnishness, teach me how to freaking TURN.
Yeah, I know. You are laughing your ass off. Sure. And I am still “learning” how to crochet.