Crafternoon

Never Done: Crafternoon

Inspired by the Brooklyn Soup Swap, Esther organized a craft-in. The first one was held at my apartment. It went through some conceptual changes on its way to reality. It was first going to be a t-shirt up-sourcing workshop -- Tine was going to teach us how to make a corsetted t-shirt from the Alabama Stitch Book. But at the last minute she couldn't come, so Esther considered who else could lead a craft, and ended up deciding to have a gather-in where we all worked on our own projects. Abigail brought a pair of mittens she's knitting with a flap that can be opened to expose the fingers. Esther brought a hat she is knitting. Emily came without a project, but looked through lots of my vintage knitting books for inspiration for new projects. And Dakota came ready to help me make a duct tape pants suit to wear to the upcoming Prince concert, but my duct tape hadn't arrived. Nonetheless, Dakota and I looked at online resources for making duct tape garments, and came up with a plan -- not for a pants suit, but for a wrap-around v-neck dress or potentially smoking jacket.

I spent the rest of the crafternoon going through a big box of my mother's knitting, embroidery, and sewing stuff. It was full of discoveries and memories. Large pieces of fabric she got in Sweden, along with the Folkwear patterns she used to sew in the 1970s. (I remember she made the French Cheesemaker's smock.) Embroidery designs she sold, and one that she apparently didn't sell -- a placement with a meta-design of a place setting on it, in a return envelope from Custom House, who used to sell her patterns. Knitting projects she clearly intended to start -- because she had packaged the needles, the pattern, and the yarn together. A needlepoint project that my sister designed and started, probably sometime in the late 1960s. Yellowed pieces of graph paper, on which she had drawn meticulous designs for needlework. Patterns for sweaters I have, sweaters I remember, and sweaters I never saw. (Tshuve of the highest order.)

While I was enjoying the reconnection with the needlework that I grew up with, and that I myself did -- I used to travel to embroidery trade shows with my mom, and I was such an avid embroiderer that I brought my embroidery to class in third grade when the teacher didn't give me enough work to do (I had an amazing second-grade teacher, and was pretty far ahead by third grade) -- I also wanted to use the day, and the group, to help me move forward with a craft project, instead of just re-live the past. So I took one of the knitting packages my mom had prepped -- for a beautiful lacy scarf knit on small (Number 3) needles with super skinny yarn -- and I started rolling the skeins into balls. The yarn is so fine that it took the rest of the afternoon to roll it (in between doing other things as well.) And by the time I went to bed, I had three balls of yarn sitting ready to go, like old friends, waiting for me to wake up again.

Which is a perfect way to end the blogpost, except that I didn't go right to bed. I made a new menoyre, this time out of butter. Josh and I watched it burn all the way down, as the surface started to glimmer, and then melt, until a sluice opened up in the middle, and a puddle of melted butter started to form on the plate, until the middle candles sputtered out, and the end candles stayed lit -- and lit -- and lit -- the wicks wicking butter to keep the khanike miracle alive.