The Official Website of Author H.B. Huisinga...
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The Official Website of Author H.B. Huisinga...
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Photographs by Jonathan Kang Copyright 2004 H.B. Huisinga This site designed and maintained by Monet Quinn.
Updated: 10/03/05. Copyright 2004-05 H.B. Huisinga. | What Stories Does Your Knitting Tell? October
2005 issue Knitters' Knews by H.B. Huisinga Copyright July 2005 H.B. Huisinga My pride and joy knitting project this summer has been a lace tablecloth using Elizabeth Zimmerman's Pi Shawl pattern and cream bedspread thread on size 8 knitting needles. This project was born two years ago from thread I found in my stash. It's original intent was as a gift for someone who turned out to be unappreciative of my efforts. As with all well-intentioned, badly-received, handcrafted-gifts, its unfinished hulk promptly took residence in the bottom of my yarn basket waiting for the day it no longer carried ill feelings. In the last year many things in my life have changed causing me to pick this project up and finish before the holiday festivities this year. This time the tablecloth is for me, and a household of kids who think it's "cool" that I can knit something so "beautiful". Amidst giggles from my boyfriend's father regarding how far I've gotten since the last time he saw me (I'm on the outer edge now with over a thousand stitches on each row), and stabs at humor from my boyfriend's three kids who wonder if I'm a nut for knitting something containing over a thousand stitches, I've found my niche of respect among knitters and non-knitters when it comes to this project. It was mid-July when I realized there was not enough thread in my stash to finish my newly revitalized, perfectly-aged project. This was to be expected; my boyfriend's dining room table is larger than my own table that served as the model the first time round. After much trepidation and consulting with my boyfriend's socially adept mother, I decided to continue the insanity and visit one of those chain-marts to search for similar thread that I could blend into the monstrous behemoth. Besides, now that it's for me, it should be the biggest and best tablecloth I can possibly make, right? The night arrived near the end of July when a trip home to my family reunion prompted the apocalyptic visit to the chain-mart in search of thread. In hopes to spur me on to the finish line, despite the multitude of stitches on each round and the horrible dread of the infamous edging, my boyfriend insisted on buying the ball of thread. A mere $2, he smiled knowing that he'd saved the day with his yarn enabling gesture. (Anyone remember when my sister graciously started my habit by proclaiming she'd pay for my yarn, and then promptly realizing my debilitating OCD was not a passing fad??) My eyes glazed over, and I fell before the thread display at the local chain-mart. Maybe it was this color? Maybe it was that one? Too thick? Too thin? I had to send dear boyfriend back to the van to get my knitting basket containing the cream monster in order to verify the closest match. Sprawled in front of the thread with my knitting basket between my legs and several different "cream" threads haphazardly tossed around me on the floor, I finally decided on the two that matched the closest. My boyfriend made the ultimate decision. We threw the prized ball of thread on top of my basket, and headed up to the toy area to find his youngest who was supposed to be searching through mounds of matchbox cars. We split our efforts amongst isles of toys, and I was having no luck finding the youngest. I weaved through several isles of He-Mans, Star Wars, Sponge Bob and matchbox cars before I heard what appeared to be rude laughter from several young boys as they tore through the main isle nearby. An excited young man fled into my isle, I assumed doing something he ought not, and yelled at me, "Hey, Lady! Stop!" I turned slowly to give him what for, and realized he had two other boys in tow, each with a little cream colored ball of their own in their hands. They were out of breath and yanking at a cream thread that ran back down the main isle, out of my sight. Now they were laughing loud while doubled over gasping breaths. A half minute or so later, I heard my dear boyfriend's laughter as he peered around the other corner of the isle at me. He looked down at the young boys saying, "I can't take her anywhere, but at least I can always find her!" My confusion got the best of me as I pleaded for someone to tell me what was happening. My boyfriend laughed, "You're knitting basket is trying to escape!" Sure enough, I looked down at my precious basket where a solitary strand of cream thread hung over the side like a mouse-tail caught in a cat's mouth. The old ball of yarn was gone. I stepped out into the main isle, and looked to the back of the building where the yarn was kept. A fourth boy had a wad of cream thread in his hands, rolling it around as he came toward the front of the store. I laughed so hard; I had to sit on the floor while my boyfriend supervised the yarn retrieval without knots or snags. After making sure all thread was safely tucked into my knitting basket, my boyfriend held a hand over the top of my basket while ushering me quickly out of the store all the while making jokes about National Knitting Security being compromised by a "thread of leaks". As I sit now, in our bedroom working on the last panel before the horrendous edging that will inevitably follow, I think, "This is how each knitting project lives a multitude of stories before it gets to the desired finished product." |
