What crochets around comes around...

   It has been a long time since I have worked on a crocheting project. Now that my broken thumb has pretty much healed and the holiday bustle is over, I am considering tackling a new project. I am trying to decide between a baby sweater with gorilla length arms or a cozy blanket that tapers at one end. Or perhaps a pair of mittens with no thumbs. The options are endless and I have all the supplies I need, skeins of yarn, hot beverage and my beloved crochet hooks from my grandma.

   My grandmother was the one who taught me to crochet. It started with one medium sized crochet hook and one very tightly crocheted chain. From that chain came the most lopsided, irregular afghan ever made, and a life-long love of creating with a hook and some yarn. Using the hooks always brings back warm memories of my grandmother, as well as the unusual story behind the hooks.

   You see, I didn't inherit my grandmother's hooks.

   They were given to me...by one of my best friends.

   Yes, you heard me right, from one of my best friends. And no, we are not related.

    You see, my grandmother's hooks had long ago been passed to an aunt, who passed them on to a friend. I never gave them much thought when my grandmother died, after all I hadn't created anything in years. Maybe even eons. What did I need crochet hooks for?

   Until the creative bug bit me one fateful Friday night.

   It was on Friday nights when I always met up with my best friend to hang. Sometimes we watched our favorite TV shows together, or visited neighborhood shops near my apartment. Other times we enjoyed the view off her balcony swapping stories and having wine coolers. This particular Friday we had decided to craft together. I brought over a book of patterns and some yarn I had picked up at the store. As she was opening some wine coolers, I was leafing through the pages of my new book looking for something nifty and different to create. I was limited, however, by my selection of hooks to choose from. I owned two hooks of dubious quality and had not thought to purchase new ones.

   As I was bemoaning my meager selection of tools, she jumps up and says "Hang on" then leaves the room. Puzzled, I waited. She didn't crochet. I wondered if maybe she had taken up metal-work and cast a whole bunch of hooks....

   But no, she came trotting back in the room with a bulging old brown vinyl zipper pouch. "For you." she said presenting her trophy proudly. "I knew these were waiting for a good home."

   It was a very familiar bulging brown vinyl zipper pouch. It looked like a case my grandmother had used. I unzipped the proffered pouch and what I discovered inside floored me. It WAS my grandmother's old case. Inside were her hooks as well as her sewing scissors and even a familiar wooden spool of reddish brown thread.

   "Where the heck did you get this?" I asked.

   The answer was she got them from her aunt, who had recently passed away. She inherited them.

   Turns out her deceased aunt used to live across the street from my aunt. The same aunt who my grandmother had given the crochet needles to a long time ago and who had, in turn, passed them on.

   Forget six degrees of separation; change that to just the width of a crochet hook!

   I don't recall doing much crafting that night, but I do remember swapping childhood stories. Although my friend and I had not met until college, turns out we both played in the same backyard, swam in the same pool and hung out with the same neighborhood kids - some of whom were related to us!

   Over the years, I have learned some pretty elaborate stitches thanks to the really cool book mentioned before, and enjoyed hours of creating with yarn using the beloved hooks that never fail to bring me warm memories. My love for crocheting has given me a chance to work on some really wonderful projects...

Snowflake?

Some more successful than others.