Anatomy of an addiction

Expression, Sept-Oct, 2005 by Kathie Gillaspey

My mother often tells a story about me as a toddler. According to her, you could put me in a room full of china and glass and never have to worry that I would touch anything. Every time she tells this, it amazes me. Why? Because of all my senses, it's my sense of touch that gets me in the most trouble. If it looks soft, I have to touch it. If it looks like it would feel cold, I have to touch it. If the color makes my heart sing, I have to touch it. Is it any wonder that with all the new and fabulous fibers, yarns have become my new compulsion?

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

Last year one of my mailing list pals posted a message that she had made a scarf using just one skein of furry yarn and very large knitting needles. She also posted a picture of it, and it was beautiful--fluffy, full and invitingly soft looking.

I was acquainted with the beautiful yarns and fibers stampers used in their cards and books. In fact, I had a few of the beauties myself for those purposes. My local craft store had rack upon rack of novelty yarns in countless colors and I often found myself drawn to visiting them before leaving the store.

With my latest creative spark ignited, I found myself visiting the yarns more and more. One day, I broke down and bought a beautiful pink, soft, furry specimen. As luck would have it, they also had the large needles. I rushed home in anticipation of completing a scarf by bedtime.

It'd been a long time since I'd knit and I couldn't remember how to cast on. What I ended up with at the end of that frustrating night was not a scarf, but a pile of knotted yarn. After a few more tries over the next few days, I admitted defeat and tossed the yarn, needles and my knitting confidence to the back of the closet.

Late last summer, while attending a quilt show, I came across a woman knitting on a round thing-a-ma-jig. She was winding yarn around little pegs and lifting them off with a strange needle. I watched in amazement as she assured me I could make a scarf in an evening. There were those words again! I watched her for a few more minutes and bought a round knitting loom of my very own. Of course, true to what usually happens in the situation where someone shows you something "easy," I got home and couldn't make the thing work. Once again I tossed the yarn to the back of the closet. This time accompanied by the thing-a-ma-jig.

A few months ago, while cruising my local Michael's, a 40-percent-off coupon burning a hole in my pocket, I spotted a woman demonstrating the round loom. I watched once again determined to learn it. This time, though, I was a little smarter. I asked her to show me how to cast on the yarn. I also asked to try it for myself. It was easy! I left the store with a few new skeins of yarn and an entire set of round looms. Over the course of the next few weeks, I made 10 scarves.

The novelty yarns by themselves were too thin so I paired them with a smooth, non- textured yarn to add body. I loaded up on both types of yarn--suddenly, I was looking for a way to store the 20 or so skeins I had acquired. While rummaging through the craft closet, I found the knitting needles that I had previously tossed away. With a renewed sense of confidence, I gave them one more try. I'm not sure what happened, but suddenly, as if by magic, I had cast on 12 stitches and had begun knitting on those huge needles--not one bit of knotted yarn--not one heavy sigh. Within days, I had 10 knit scarves. I bought more yarn, more needles.

Recently, on a visit to the local bead store, I discovered they'd begun carrying yarns. Incredibly soft and sensuous yarns, different than the ones I had been buying at the craft store. These were imported yarns in every color and texture imaginable. I made my first purchase of imported yarn.

Next, I found myself purchasing even more needles. Not in different sizes, but in the sizes I already had. I could make multiple scarves without having to wait to finish one first.

I began bringing my scarves into the office for show-and-tell. I searched the Internet and found Web sites that had actual movies of how to cast on as well as knit, purl, and cast off. I hunted for and found hundreds of free patterns on the Internet. I started collecting instruction sheets from the craft stores, purchasing knitting books and checking eBay for deals on yarn.

I bought more needles and even more yarn--how could you ever pass up some of those luscious fibers? I found myself looking for yarn stores. Each new store provided at least one new yarn I was previously unfamiliar with. I started looking for a good deal on a yarn winder because I realized yarn would be easier to use, organize and store if they were wound in nice little "cakes."

Just last week, in an exquisite little yarn shop, I heard myself telling a friend, "No, that's not a Trendsetter yarn, that's a Skacel." I realized then and there, it was total addiction.

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