Hooking for Taufling

I needed a frame or eight for all the posters I don't have wall space for, so I went to the craft store, which was dangerous, because I love and adore crafting, and yet suck very badly at it, so a trip to JoAnn's Fabrics more often than not results in lumpy skirts or badly painted Christmas ornaments that I or some unfortunate person I love must endure. There was a sale on stitchery kits. I clapped my hands, for I enjoy nothing so much as starting a cross-stitch project, becoming discouraged one-sixteenth of the way through because I have f'd it up yet again, and stuffing the whole botched project in a Rubbermaid box as tiny little trails of embroidery floss dot the floor and mock me in a multicolored chorus.


A time-honored tradition, this; I was taught to stitch yarn through a plastic canvas as a kindergartener because the state of Ohio, in all its wisdom, foresaw the low, low math SAT scores to come and told my mother to give me something to work on to improve my fine motor control so that I could print my name, color in the lines, and cut a piece of construction paper into non-wiggly strips like any sane person. Anybody who has seen my handwriting knows what a spectacular failure this was, but the upside is my mother is now the proud owner of a lump of yarn vaguely resembling a bookmark and a set of curtains that defy the laws of physics. When in doubt, macrame. Perhaps fortunately for Taufling, then, all the stitchery kits in the baby section were frankly offensive in their uncuteness and highly unworthy for such a fine fetus as s/he. So I turned to go, and THERE at the end of the aisle was a Woodstock latch hook kit. Just one. On sale. For me. And Taufling. I haven't latch hooked since I was a young Jedi, and lacked even the hooking tool, so I bought one of those too, if only to give me an excuse to wander around my apartment saying "Has anyone seen my hooker?" Taufling's nursery will be decorated with a Woodstock and Snoopy theme, in honor of the huge stuffed Snoopy my father won for my sister after spending approximately $48,702 at St. Jude's Festival ring-toss booth when she was three. And latch hook is difficult for even me to f' up, so I hugged Woodstock to me and ran to the register, and told the checkout lady, who had one finger on the security call light, all about Taufling and the handwriting and the 18,752 too-large ponytail holders I have wrought. Woodstock and I went home to the Blonde Bachelorette Pad, where I spread out the kit and admired the bright colors and contemplated the greatness of yarn. My only sibling is growing a baby. It's not the earth-changing thing she's engaged in, but every now and then I like to make something too.


October 21, 2003

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