Crap -- uh, craft.

So, rock painting. Is that a thing now? Or is it origami again?

Did Bob Ross ever paint rocks?

These books were all in the wholesale club back-to-school pile, and may be more indicative of what the kids were up to last year than this year. Rock painting is something to do, I guess. I don't recall ever doing it in school. Maybe in New York City they were afraid to let the kids have rocks small enough to throw.

It got me thinking about Craft Projects of My Youth, most of which were connected with elementary school. It's funny how some kids will take to one and not to another, how it's not always the kid you would think who excels at a particular craft. Here are the ones I remember, and my rating (from 0 to 5 yarn balls 🧶). Your mileage will certainly vary. I'd love to hear your take in comments. 

🎨🖌🖇🧶

Paper crafts (corrugated paper edition): Cutting and gluing pictures using sheets of colored corrugated paper. You had to think ahead a little because your cut-out pieces had to have the same direction of corrugation as the background. Otherwise you might have a corrugated man running left-right when he should be up-down, so instead of walking he has to lie down. Lame. Only saved from 0 yarn balls because a classmate accused the school librarian of having corrugated lips, which is still funny. 🧶

Papier-mâché (puppet edition): Very intense exercise in using heavy conical dowels made of cardboard (a.k.a. yarn cones) as puppet bodies and making papier-mâché heads for them. The amount of wet newspaper in that classroom was amazing. The humidity level rose 30%. Later, the heads were painted and decorated with glued-on stuff, and little clothes were made for them. They were all Wizard of Oz themed, because we used the puppets for our class drama that year. I cannot begin to tell you how long we worked on this, but it seemed to be the whole school year. I memorized the entire script even though I had about five lines. As involving crafts go, it was amazing. As for the finished puppet heads, everything looked like blobs. Especially mine. Still: 🧶🧶🧶🧶🧶

Macrame (belt edition): Everyone in class had to have a macrame belt ready for the annual spring class dance at the end of the year. Not a school dance per se; each class had to do some kind of dance number. Our costume required us to make our own macrame belts. I don't want to say that I was bad at it, but a cat would have had a better chance at making a ball of yarn into a belt. In desperation the teacher asked the #1 macrame artist in the class to make my belt -- this little twerp, a jerk who would have been the class bully if he'd not been short, but as it was, was a loudmouth who could piss off anyone. He was a genius at macrame. Who knew? 🧶🧶

Stuff with Popsicle sticks (I have no idea edition): I just know there were tongue depressors and paint and glue. Nothing good ever came out of it. 🧶

Ceramics (painting edition): We got to pick our choice of unpainted ceramics to paint. When I say "our choice" I mean no choice at all, since we went by lottery. I got these little pine trees. Some kids got huge things with an opportunity to do some thoughtful and creative painting. I painted mine green. I am still disappointed, but on the other hand, I had those trees out every Christmas for decades. 🧶🧶 

Tilework (glue edition): We got sheets of little tiles, cut them to shape, and glued them on other things. In theory, pretty cool; in practice, mosaics for morons. 🧶

Pottery (middle school edition): Now we're talking. Using the snake coil method to build up a pot, painting, firing, glazing! Kilns were involved! My pot still came out looking like crap--literal crap, as I painted it brown for some reason, and it was lumpy--but it was tons of fun. I still have it somewhere. It's heavy enough to kill a guy. 🧶🧶🧶🧶🧶

Knitting (adult edition): This actually was team-building project designed by people who did not know anything about knitting, because when you have twenty people knitting a square, even if they knew how to knit, every square is still going to be a different size because of variations among knot sizes, hand sizes, and general ability. Most people did not know how to knit. The dreamed-of goal of having a group crazy quilt was put to bed within the hour. I, of course, could not even make a good snarl. No improvement from my macrame belt fiasco. 0

🎨🖌🖇🧶

That's all I can remember offhand. I am glad we didn't do origami. I think probably some kid would have lost a finger. I don't think our school turned out a lot of geniuses, is what I'm saying.

Latvia #1!

My wife, the master yarn crafter, was watching a video online about Latvian mitten knitting by a woman who had studied the art. 

It would appear that Latvia is especially renowned for its mittens. Who knew?

Well, a lot of people, I guess. Ravelry has a ton of pages devoted to it, and don't even ask about Etsy. And of course there are books, like Lizbeth Upitis's Latvian Mittens: Traditional Designs & Techniques.

As the kiddies would say, It's a THING!

Here are some now!

Of course, that begs the questions: Why mittens? Why Latvia? Why now? 

Flag of Latvia

The CIA World Factbook says that the former Soviet Union republic only has mild winters, and indeed the nation's Environment, Geology and Meteorology Centre confesses to an average winter temperature of about 24 degrees Fahrenheit -- not exactly the Arctic freeze one would associate with the need for the world's finest knit mitts. So it's not a matter of cold-weather survival that has made Latvia #1 in mittens. 

Latvian version of the
foam #1 finger
(artist interpretation)

According to Latvians.com, a site dedicated to Latvians and their culture:

Latvia is famous for the fact that the oldest mittens have been found here by archaeologists. They are estimated to be approximately ten centuries old. The tradition of knitting mittens stems from the cold weather of Northern Europe; although it is worth mentioning that centuries ago mittens played a decorative role as well. By fastening them behind the waistband, they were worn in summer as a bijouterie and adornment. For several centuries they were the main form of gift and endowed with magical significance.

Nowadays Latvian mittens, so diverse in their colours and patterns are still an essential part of our winter clothing. Although there is always the possibility to wear synthetic gloves, the originality, tradition, warmth and sense of Latvia that is knitted into a mitten will be always worth a compliment.

But it isn't just the craftsmanship, even the one-upmanship, that might come from knowing your mittens are better than someone else's that make mittens so important in Latvia. There is also a tradition connected to weddings, according to this Latvian site: 

An ancient Latvian wedding tradition says that unmarried girls have to fill up their hope chests before entering the marriage. It’s an old tradition, that was respected by their mothers and grandmothers, so from early childhood girls were taught to knit, embroider, crochet and sew to be able to fulfill their chests with knits and other handicrafts. Knitted mittens were one of the most important things of the chest and also an indicator of girl’s skills. They represented patience and imagination, because every mitten had to be knitted in a different design using different patterns, otherwise the brides were laughed at. The most lavish chests contained several hundred pairs of hand-knitted mittens. This could not have been done if not the rich and diverse Latvian ethnographic culture. Each pair of mittens has its own story, his own unique pattern and what is most important – each pair of mittens holds his own meaning and comes with it its own wish.

As these mittens were given as a gifts, every girl was trying to do their best and was competing among themselves to create as many as possible creative patterns, color compositions and shades.

That seems to have created an atmosphere as brutal and bloody as one of our more crushing competitive events, like the Super Bowl or the Scripps National Spelling Bee. Can you imagine being a bride and getting laughed at on your wedding day because your mittens suck? 

"Ha! Ha! What is on those mittens, Hello Kitty? Are they from the ostruble store?" 

"You should never know the kiss of true love with mittens like that!"

"We laugh at you, bride! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Think of the pressure! As someone who has the manual dexterity of a left-handed ox, I'm glad I was not born a Latvian girl. My wedding would have gotten more laughs than the Depp-Heard trial. 

So it seems that this is just one of those things. It started out to keep warm, and turned somehow into an important cultural statement, like the shtreimel. I've seen ultraorthodox Jewish men wearing those fur hats in the summer on the Sabbath, and if you ask me, when July rolls around, I'd rather have mittens fastened to my waistband than a fur hat on my head. 

Nyetsy.

 

Strangely, Katie's Elephant Cozy knitting business on Etsy
did not take off as well as she had hoped. 

A year with a knitter.

Canine conundrum.

Junior dog Nipper was looking sad.

"What's his problem?"

"I gave a piece of yarn to play with," said Mrs. Key.

Let it be noted that despite the hundreds of dollars spent on dog toys in this house, Nipper is a fundamentalism-is-fun type. Sticks, rocks, rugs, towels, bits of yarn -- those are his favorite toys. His philosophy is, if you stick to the basics you never have to go back to them.

I thought the rug had been getting the treatment, because he had one paw under it. He likes to scratch the rug, sometimes try to gnaw the rug, basically whatever he can get away with.

"So the poor urchin got a piece of yarn," I said. "Why's he sad?"

"It went under the rug and he thinks it's lost."

Indeed, he had one paw under the rug, and I think I figured out the problem. He couldn't get at it to pull it out, or couldn't feel it with his rugged paw. To stick his face under there he would probably have to pull out the paw, and yet it would be too dark to see; the idea of rolling back the rug to expose the floor didn't occur to him.

Dog problem-solving is often interesting. Especially this dog. When he was a puppy, a treat rolled under the sofa, and he went about it the way a dog would -- he pawed at the front of the sofa, as if he could dig through it. I've never seen a baby behave that way in a similar situation. Babies seem to have a better grasp of what is and isn't possible. Monsieur Nippére would never have been able to get through the sofa, but he certainly could have wrecked the upholstery, so it's a good thing I was on hand to get the treat out fast. This is the dog, after all, who solved a difficult puzzle as Alexander the Great solved the Gordian Knot, and in the same way -- he just ruined it.

In a study a few years ago, it was demonstrated that wolves had more stick-to-it-iveness than dogs when it came to problem-solving: wolves would continue to work like maniacs at a puzzle to get a treat, while dogs would look to people for help. Clive Wynne of Arizona State notes that “wolves are practical problem solvers and dogs are social problem solvers,” and that jibes with my experience. I certainly think there's some overlap, what with Nipper wrecking that puzzle toy rather than decoding the puzzles, but I've had any number of slobbered-up puzzles dropped in front of me, the unspoken request for help. Larger dog Tralfaz is a great one for just moaning wherever he is, hoping for aid, or just company.

In the end I lifted the rug and enabled Poor Urchin Nipsey to get his piece of yarn, the greatest toy in the world until the next one.

I know people think wolves are just fifty shades of awesome, but a wolf would have torn up the family room to get what he wanted. Wolves are not Man's Best Friend; dogs are. And who am I to refuse to help a friend?

You knit too much.

If you live with a knitter and you celebrate Christmas, you're probably up to your ankles in yarn by now. If your knitter has not been at it since Labor Day at the latest, take her to the doctor. There must be something wrong.

My wife delights people (including me) every Christmas with handmade presents, knitted or crocheted with loving care. Like a home cook who has progressed beyond the basics, she takes instructions (patterns) and modifies them to her own preferences. Many she makes up on her own.

But I do worry about her knitting, and I'm not kidding when I say she's actually given herself knitting injuries and yarn callouses. Knitting may one day become a safer alternative to football, since people love to watch it but the injuries are less severe. She promises to stand for the national anthem.

She may be drafted by the Washington
Redskeins or the Tennessee Tatting.

Yarn crafters know they are addicted, and they seldom try to hide it. Some celebrate it. Check out Yarn Harlot or Yarn Addict or Mochimochi Land or the Crochet Crowd. They love their addiction. Some make a living from it. They may die in the alley with a skein under each arm, knowing how sad their relatives will be that they took the needle, but they don't care.

And that's why I fret a little.

One day I serenaded the lovely Mrs. Key thus:

You knit too much
You worry me to death
You knit too much
You even knit for my pet

You just knit
Knit too much

You knit for people
That you don't know
You carry your stash
Wherever you go

You just knit
Knit too much

You knitted in the car 
Till they made you stop
Then you knit a holster
For the traffic cop

You just knit
Knit too much

You knit your afghans
More than fifteen feet
You yarn-bombed
East Forty-second Street

You just knit
Knit too much

She didn't approve. She just sneered at me over her flying needles.

I have a feeling I'm gonna get some knitted lumps of coal in my homemade Christmas stocking now.

Today in history.

OCTOBER 1, 1943 -- Ethel Hooper, working for the US Army Air Force,
attempts an early version of "stealth tech" by knitting a plane cozy for a
P-51 Mustang. The drag on the plane from 100 pounds of yarn makes it
impractical, and it is later attacked by the camp cat, Hojo, while in the hangar. 

If you live with a yarn crafter...

Maybe it was a shroud.