The Importance of a Yarn Stash

Every serious knitter/crocheter has to have a yarn stash.  It's a must - for every self-respecting knitter/crocheter, that is.

And I most definitely am a self-respecting knitter/crocheter.  Very.

The size of the stash separates the hard core knitters/crocheters from the "others".

The bigger the stash, the more hard core you are.  

That being the case, I am hard core.  Certifiably hard core.  

Certifiably hard core.  

I have enough yarn stashed in bins in my basement to keep me busy for a very very long time.  I can't die anytime soon.  I have way too much yarn and too many projects to complete before that can happen.

Stash happens when there is leftover pieces of yarn from a project or too many skeins of yarn bought for one project.

Stash also happens when the crafter goes to to a yarn store whether it be Michaels i.e. a chain store, a local boutique yarn store, a knitters' fair, Mary Maxims or my favourite, the Spinrite Factory Outside annual tent sale.

Any place where the there's lots and lots and lots of yarn to tempt the eyes.

On the side of this post are pictures of various aspects of my stash.  I have all kinds of yarn:  worsted weight, baby yarn, sock yarn, dk weight, novelty yarn, bulky weight, lace weight, ribbon.  You name it, I probably have it.

There's acrylic, wool/wool blends, cotton, linen, silk ....

And colours.  Lots of various colours. Soft pastel baby colours.  Bold brights.  Cream, white, black, grey, brown for neutral effects.

However,  while what you see may look like a mess, a waste of money, even a woman with a severe yarn hoarding problems, what I see when I look at all these balls of yarns is something different.

I see lots of projects just waiting for that magical moment when creation happens.

Inside those bins, lurked the prayer shawl above which I made for a friend whose Mom had been diagnosed with cancer.  This project was not only made entirely from my stash but started out with the yarn left over from her mom's prayer shaw.

Then there's the large granny square afghan I started when a friend gave me what was supposed to be the beginning of a baby blanket for a friend's baby.  She ran out of yarn too soon and we traded - her unfinished square for one of my finished projects - also created from my stash.  I finished this afghan from bits and pieces from my own stash only purchasing enough yarn of the lavender colour (which originally came from my stash).

And there's one of my personal favourites: a "prayerghan" made for a Syrian refugee family in our area made almost entirely (but not quite) from my stash.  I started with an idea and what I call a "recipe" and let my mind, needles, hands and imagination go from there.

Personally, I don't know what I'd do without my stash.

More reading maybe?

Sometimes it's easier - and faster - to knit 40-60 rows of garter stitch then to do 10 rows of a more complicated pattern.   A pattern which requires thinking.  Cognitive abilities.

Cognitive abilities which have at times gone AWOL - or the current wording Absent Without Leave - without warning or giving me a forwarding address.  No ETA of when they might return either.

When that happens, I'm left to my own desires and devices ... er ... coping techniques.

One of my coping techniques in this ongoing journey of recovery from workplace abuse is that when one thing doesn't work, I try something else.

When the mind can't seem to follow the directions, the pattern, and I'm doing more tinking (unknitting) then knitting.

When the project is resisting me at every turn.  When I'm moving backward faster than I am forward.  When I'm getting frustrated - which happens easily post workplace abuse.  Discouraged too.  Both of which happen easily these days.  And more frequently than I would like.

So I put that work aside - either temporarily or long-term - and either pick up something else on my WIP (Works in Process) pile or start something new.  Something in my stash.  Something very easy.  Something ... well ... something like this work scarf pictured on the left.

Something brainless.  Mindless.  Soothing.  Something with few cognitive skills required.

Which is why when I looked at this Fisherman's Crochet baby blanket which has been a WIP for years now, determined to pick it up and finish it off, my mind looked at it and said:  "No way, Jose.  I'm NOT doing this.  And without me, you aren't either."

I should interject at some point that working on this intricate afghan has been like starting over - even though I've done it once before, even though I knew, at some point in time, how to do all these stitches, this project has fought me tooth and nail.  Every time I started a new part of the pattern, a different stitch, I could not successfully do it until after several failed tries and you-tubing a tutorial on the stitch.  Talk about frustration.

This blanket is approximately 2/3 way done.  I'm ready to start the second panel of the diamond stitch you can see in the picture.  The problem with this blanket is that although I've made it once before and am an experienced crocheter, with the cognitive deficits post workplace abuse, making this blanket has been almost like starting new.  From the beginning.  Which has been ... concerning ... frustrating ....

So I picked up this kit I'd bought previously and decided what the heck! let's go.  Let's start it.  Even though another new project is exactly what I don't need at this time with others waiting to be finished. Yet I don't have to finish it.  I only have to start it and work on it until the needles do their magical, soothing work.  I must have been really down for the count mentally/brain wise because a week later I completely finished this 5-6 scarf.

A 1x1 rib (see! I've learned to successfully speak knitting too! Along with Canadian and American English with a smattering of Scottish English thrown in for good measure), it's not as mindless as straight garter or even stockinette (one row knit, one row purl) would be, but it has it's own rhythm.

A soothing rhythm once I get into the groove.

And it works!

That's the purpose of the exercise - of knitting.  It's my right brain activity.  It's my port in a storm.  It's what I do when I can't do much of anything else.

And it works.

And I have a brand new hand made scarf all ready for spring ... or what's considered spring here in Canada.  Bonus!

#12 on my "Wish List"

 Quite a while ago on my main blog, Ramblings of a Deranged Mind, I posted a blog entitled "My Wish List".  It included a lot of things - most of which have nothing to do with knitting or crocheting - which are on my list of goals.  Number 12 said that I wanted to become as proficient at knitting as I was at crocheting.

This was early on in both my journey of recovery post workplace abuse as well as in my journey learning to knit.

I've been crocheting for more than 40 years; I've only been learning to knit since the fall of 2011.

When I began to learn to knit, there wasn't much I couldn't with with my crochet hook, yarn and a pattern.  At the same time, there wasn't much that I could do with knitting needles without or without yarn and a pattern.

So the learning curve was going to go straight up.

I originally started this blog to share my ongoing adventures with learning how to knit.  However, learning how to knit is very closely related to my ongoing journey of recovery from workplace abuse.  Without the one, there would probably not be the other.

I knit to heal.  Knitting - and crocheting - are my primary right brain therapies of choice in this road to recovery.  They allow me to rest my mind from all the the questions that puzzle me - and continue to puzzle and disturb me almost five years years post workplace abuse.

They spike my creativity.

I start out with a pattern which I will follow exactly as written - the first time.  As I'm knitting or crocheting that pattern, my mind takes flights of fancy with all the things I can do with it.  I can change it.  I can play with colours.  I can do this or do that.  I start to feel alive with the possibilities of what I can create with these few resources: needles - or a hook - yarn, and a pattern.  The possibilities are endless.  Or close to.

A "frilly" scarf

I like colour!  The brighter the better.  The more, the merrier.

I love to play with yarn.

I love to watch the item taking shape beneath my fingers.

I love the feel of the wool/yarn in my fingers.

I am at my happiest and most contented state of well being when something is forming on my needles or hooks.

A prayer ghan from my imagination, gifted to a friend
struggling with kidney failure.

I feel motivated and alive when I see what I am creating and imagine the pleasure it will give someone.

And yes, I still crochet.  I do both. When I can't seem to do one, I can usually do the other.

Between the two skills, I stay grounded and can cope with the world as I know it.  I can cope with a scrambled mind.  I have a purpose in life.  I may not have the most active life in the world, but  I'm not completely useless. When the words fail, the hands, needles and yarn don't.

And I have fun.  I have something not only to do, but to talk about.

My first shawl - made of very fine silk yarn

Part of the losses involved with workplace abuse, is that the social circle gets smaller and smaller and smaller.  With physically debilitating effects, I could no longer go out and about like I used to do.  With cognitive effects, I couldn't talk coherently like I used to do.  Because the cause was trauma and PTSD due to workplace bullying, it's not well understood by regular, ordinary, run of the mill people.  Even church people have huge issues with my issues.

But. I. Could. Knit. Or. Crochet.  Even if it was one row one way and another row back.  I could still do that.

Chemo hat.  One of my favourite endeavours

I've learned to knit (the garter stitch).  I've learned to purl.  Combined they create the stockinette stitch.  I've learned how to cable.  Lace.  Ribbing. Basketweave stitch.  I've learned how to use double pointed needles - or as I call them double pointed crowbars because the first time I used them that's what they felt like.  I've learned to use circular needles.

I started with the fashion scarves - the ones that twirled around and around and around.  Then I started on regular winter scarves.  Next came a cowl using both circular needles and the cable stitch.  Fingerless gloves followed.  Hats. Since then I've gone on to baby cocoons, 18 in doll clothes, baby - and other - blankets. And the list goes on - and on - and on.  I practice new stitches on dishcloths as they're small projects, easily ripped out and started over again, if need be.

I've used different weights of yarn from fine sock yarn to Lion Brand Homespun Bulky to novelty yarns. I've used thin needles and very large needles.  I've learned how to knit in the round using both DPNs (double pointed needles) and circular needles. I've  used cotton, wool, wood blends, acrylic, even silk.

Those are the times I feel proud of myself.  Those are the times I know healing is taking place.  Those are the times I know that while I may not have completely achieved item #12 on my wish list that I'm getting there.

By God's grace and a heck of a lot of work, I'm getting there.

And I couldn't be happier.

Prayer afghan originally started for my mom when she was dying
later gifted to a good friend whose mother was dying.

Knitting/Crocheting Do Define Who I Am. So there.

Two chemo hats for a special friend.  The one on the left followed the pattern; the one on the right followed my imagination using the pattern as a guide.

A prayer shawl made for the same special friend as the hats.
Again creativity overcame the written pattern.

In an earlier, much earlier blog, I related how a woman on staff from my church came into my safe room aka my creation centre where I proceeded to show her various aspects of my personality: my photography; the things I knit and crochet. The things that define me.  The things that I am building my recovery from workplace abuse on.

A special Christmas Tree hat for a special grandson

Very early on in the process of recovery, I started learning to knit.  Although I'd crocheted for approximately 40 years, I never thought I could knit.  It was beyond me.  Or so I thought.

And then someone mentored me on knitting.

Knitting quickly became my primary right brain therapy in the process of recovery.

It became a source of pride.

Although both knitting and crocheting involve yarn or thread and implements - a hook for one and needles for the other, it seemed that each one exercised different parts of my brain.  My creativity went wild with crocheting, but I felt calmer with knitting.

Various buttons to make it his own

Therefore it was quite a shock when this woman stood in my room with her arms across her chest and stated emphatically "This is not who you are."

It's not?  If it's not, then who, pray tell, am I?

And that was the question I was in the process of answering at this time in my life journey:  Who. Am. I?

My first (and only) knitted in the round dish cloth

Early one, a friend who is also a Christian repeated a well known verse in the Bible to me:  "And you shall know the truth and the truth will set you free."  She was talking about knowing what the Bible says about me, while I was thinking in a different way.  What is the truth about who I am?

That night I had a dream.  Not in the Martin Luther King Jr. sense of I. Have. A. Dream.  But still a dream.  One that caused me to think - and still think.

A basket of dish clothes - plus one scarf

This dream morphed from one scene to another.  In the last sequence I was suddenly in a room with mothers and babies - and a few fathers.   There were also all sorts of knit and crocheted things.  Each one looked familiar.  Each one was something that I had made and gifted - some to people I never met or knew.

One mother looked at me and said, "I was new in the area and didn't know anyone and you gave me this...."  The others were nodding.

When I woke up, I remembered that dream - which doesn't often happen.  And I thought of it.  I thought of all the things I've made and gifted over the years: baby blankets, baby dresses, scarves, dishcloths, etc.

I've given not to get back, not to get praise or money, but because this is a huge, positive part of Who. I. Am.

A very creative gifted person who uses her talents to bless others.

Blessing through Knitting/Crocheting

You have walked me through the last several blogs in the process of creating these three special afghans going to three (actually four since one is a couple) special people in my life.  You have gone with me through using the left-brain cognitive skills to form the patterns, make the fringe, weave in the threads.  You have seen them in their unfinished state with threads hanging out all over the place.

You have seen them strung up on the clothesline for a photo shoot - which they posed for very nicely.  Even adding some character at times as they flapped in the gentle breeze.

But what you don't know, as Paul Harvey always said, is the "rest of the story".

You know the how and the what.  Also the when.  But you don't know the why or the who.

Why would I spent such a vast amount of time and energy, not to mention money, on not one but three blankets for one family?  Who are they?  What makes them special?

During my sojourn through decades of creating, I've made countless articles for many people in many different circumstances of life:  prayer shawls, baby blankets, chemo hats, doilies ... just to name a few. Some of the patterns have become "special" patterns reserved for only a few.

That sounds discriminatory but extra work is required for these works of art.  They're not just ordinary afghans that you might see for sale in a craft sale.  They're ... well ... to be redundant ... works of art.

In this case, the special person is a relative who has been in remission from a chronic auto-immune disorder for several years.  The special occasion is the adoption of her second child - a boy.  Under the circumstances, a very special cause to rejoice and give thanks.  To pull out the crochet needles and special patterns and start "hooking".

And, of course, it has to be suitable for a boy.  For the first adoption, I did something a bit strange on the strange side - unless you possess a deranged mind like I do. A year or more before there was any nibble on the adoption front, I pulled out my most "special" pattern, one with a puffed heart edge, and my crochet hook.  While creating this blanket, I prayed for the baby it would one day cover.  I prayed for the adoption process.  I prayed as though the child it would cover was already in utero when in reality it had not been conceived.  More than a year later, my niece and her husband held a beautiful little girl in their arms.  The staff at the hospital said that they had never seen an adoption go so smoothly.

Now six, the little girl recently found that blanket and brought it down to her mother asking who made this?  Where did I get it from?  So her mom told her the story of how her great aunty had made it before she was born and prayed for her as she created the blanket stitch by stitch.  The little girl looked at her mom and said matter-of-factly as only a six-year-old can, "So that's why I'm here" and took the blanket up to her room.  It became her favorite blanket after that conversation.

Now, she's been promoted to "big sister" and I felt that deserved it's own special acknowledgement.  After all, the baby becomes the centre of focus.  So since this particular pattern can be made in a youth size, she I made a blanket just for her to match her baby brother's.

And then there's all the yarn left over.  What to do with that?  That's how the middle afghan in a star shape came to be.  As I ran out of one yarn, I patched in another. Round and round.  Simple, right-brain activity at its best.  Relaxing.  Restoring.  Letting the mind rest once again.

Last week, I bought three boxes from Canada Post.  Boxed each blanket individually.  And mailed them off.

The other day, I got a special phone call.  The voice on the other end was not  my niece.  Rather it was my six-year-old great niece thanking me for her blanket and telling me how much she like it.

A special thank-you from a very special person for a special blanket.

As I say good-bye to these projects, there is a void.  However, as nature abhors a vacuum, I'm already into the next projects.  What will they be?  Who will they go to?

A clothes line ...

... of finished (finally) projects ...
.

All finished
(from left to right)  youth size Noah's Ark, adult size star-shaped afghan made from leftovers of youth afghan and the one that started it all - baby size Noah's Ark

proudly displaying - for all the backyard to enjoy - the result of my recent efforts and endeavours.  The many enjoyable hours spend creating these projects (which are now in the mail to their recipients) and the not so enjoyable hours spent doing the drudge work, the work of weaving in the ends, making the fringe, etc.  

Of coursse, the backyard is mostly inhabited by birds doing flyovers, squirrels foraging for whatever they forage for - mostly my spring bulbs,  rabbits intent on nibbling away the bark on my tender trees, groundhogs and the occasion raccoon and/or skunk.  Not really the best audience for this incredible display of beauty - but the best I could do on short notice.

I am proud of these creations.  Inordinately proud.  They've been a challenge from start to finish.

Crocheting and knitting are right-brain activities but they also contain some left-brain elements.

Like reading the pattern.  Following the pattern.

With a brain that has been exhibiting fluctuating characteristics of brain injury, reading and following instructions can be problematic.  Also challenging.

And then there's the finishing....

On the two Noah's Ark afghans, the technique is such that if you get one stitch wrong, the whole pattern goes out of wack.  The crafter is literally creating a picture,  row by row, reading a diagram.  Creating something with yarn and hook out of thin air.  There is no tapestry to weave into.  No paper to paint on.  The picture literally forms row by row.  Out of thin air.   At first in each segment, it seems like a mess.  Like nothing beautiful or recognizable can ever come from this.  But as row builds upon row, the picture comes out.  Slowly.  Beautifully.

I love to watch the picture form beneath my fingers.

But I also feel frustrated when the mind won't cooperate with the fingers.  When the pattern comes out wrong.

At those times, I (wisely) choose to put the project down for a brief time. To focus on something (anything) else.  As long as it's right-brain, I mean.

For me that may mean a DVD.  Or a Sudoku puzzle.  Or a fresh (easy) project.

I've learned to keep more than one project on the go at any given time.  Especially at least one that is mostly right-brain for those moments when the left leaves the room entirely.  Knitting back and forth, back and forth or crocheting in a simple pattern.  Letting the rhythm of the needles (or hook) sooth my battered soul and emotions.

Of the three pictured on the clothesline above, can you guess which was the right brain one?  With all the colours, it may appear complicated but really it wasn't.  Simply crocheting around and around in a star-shape adding a new colour as an old one ended, using up the leftovers from two previous works (of art).

Hope your day is filled with good right-brained activity - and just enough left-brained to keep things interesting.

I Love to Create ...

... but I hate to tie in the ends.

Latest (unfinished) creation - star-shaped afghan made out of leftovers from other projects

After the creation, after the right brain activity calms the brain and allows healing to proceed comes the hard part, the cognitive part.  The part where all the ends have to be woven into the finished garment so it won't unravel when washed.  The part where the seams have to be sewn up in such a way, it looks seamless.  The part where the fringe has to be made.  The part that makes the garment whole.  The part the garment cannot be complete without.

Another unfinished proejct - youth size Noah's Ark afghan for great-niece who just became a big sister

And therein, lies the problem.  Give me the hook.  Give me the needles and yarn.  Give me a pattern or even an idea - and I'm a happy camper.  

Years ago, in a difficult work situation which sucked all the energy out of me, I realized that I was happiest when I was crocheting so my ever-lovin', long-sufferin' Papa Bear drove me to Mary Maxim's in Paris, Ontario.  

If you're a crafter, you know all about Mary Maxim's.  If you're not ... well, I feel sorry for you.

He looked the other way as I picked out a basket full of yarns and possible craft projects and headed for the check out.

He looked the other way when the total was announced.

He may not be a hooker, needler or crafter but he supported me all the way.

Baby Noah's Ark afghan (still waiting for finishing touches) for new great nephew
Hope he's not graduating from high school by the time I finish it

And so I crafted.  If you were having a baby, I was your woman for a baby blanket as that was what I was focusing on at the time.

BUT after the crafting, after the creation comes the hard part.  The finishing.

The two blankets above, one youth, the other baby, are made with loose ends on both sides because of the distinctive crochet technique used.  That blanket has to be finished or it will fall apart.  Which is not a good thing.  Definitely not a good thing.

Fingerless gloves.  Needing to be sewn up.

I have spent the last week procrastinating on finishing those blankets.  In fact, I was so caught up in the procrastinating and creating that I've actually almost finished another afghan (the first picture) for the adults involved (so everyone in the family will have their own "special" blankie to curl on in - adults need special loving too, you know).  which will also need to be tied in.  Finished.  It's an on-going vicious cycle in my world.

I think I resent the finishing part because it takes valuable time away from the creating.  Also because it involves thinking.  Left brain activity.

The left brain complains saying:  "I hurt.  I'm still recovering.  Leave me be."  But I can't.  I need it too. It has needed - and still needs - a rest.  But it also needs to know that it's OK to be the left brain. Cognitive has it's good parts too.

So today, I will leave you with that thought and pick up the threads to finish these projects.

Unfinished edge

See you later, hopefully with pictures of the finished products ready to box up and mail.

Until then, enjoy life - whatever form yours takes - to the fullest.