A Yarn about Yarn

yarn about yarnYarn (v) – long or implausible story.  see also: thread, story, tale

We’ve been in West Texas this weekend.  We drove from Houston to our “undisclosed location” on Thursday and will be making the return trip on Sunday.

Don’t worry, the kids aren’t missing school.  The teachers are all at a conference.   

We are an hour’s drive to the closest Chic Fil A, craft store, shoe store, or movie theatre.   If you look at a map, we’re about 60 miles from either Abilene or San Angelo.  It’s about a six hour drive back to Houston (PLUS the required potty stops).

Yes, when we talk about how far apart things are, we talk about how long it takes to drive there.  You ask most Texans “how far is it?” and they’ll answer in TIME, not MILES.

We drove by cotton plants.

While we were driving on Thursday, my husband spotted cotton fields and pointed them out to the boys.   My kids had no idea that cotton came from a plant and were actually interested.

No, that’s not quite right.  My kids had no idea what cotton was.

Is that where they grow cotton candy?

We explained that cotton was turned into blue jeans and t shirts.

Honey, I crocheted your rainbow hat out of cotton yarn.

Then they were interested.  They had questions about cotton and how it turns from fluffy white stuff on plants into cotton yarn for me.

(my kids know what makes me happy.  keeping me supplied with yarn is high on the list.)

Then we passed by some goats.

My husband started to tell the boys all about Cabrito.  Cabrito is a regional dish from Mexico that features roasted baby goat.   It shows up on menus in Texas from time to time.

When we passed through a small town, I spotted a Mohair storage and processing plant.  That’s when I realized what all those goats were for.

Those are Angora goats!

We were passing field after field of Angora sweaters on the hoof.

I then got to explain to the family about how Mohair comes from goats just like wool comes from sheep.  Just thinking about it made my hands twitch.

And then we saw sheep.

My family had three different reactions to the sheep.  My husband said

Lamb Chops!

(he’s right.  lamb chops are yummy.  i could totally enjoy some lamb chops for dinner tonight.  or better yet, some Osco Busso.  mmmm.)

My kids said “Baaaaa” and then started singing

Old MacDonald had a farm E-I-E-I-Oooooooo….

(we heard strains of that song for the rest of the trip.  after about ten minutes i was longing to hear the 100 bottles of beer on the wall instead.)

You can guess what I said.   Go ahead, say it with me.

Wool!  Wool Yarn!  Beautiful wool yarn.

As I said this, I had a skein of wool yarn in my lap and a crochet hook in one hand.  Perhaps that had something to do with my yarn obsession.

My husband, ever the hunter, started talking about hunting mountain goats.  He wanted to know if I would collect the fleece and spin it into my own yarn.  Even though I don’t know the first thing about spinning (or have my own equipment) I said yes without hesitation.

I love yarn.

I love going to the yarn store and seeing all the different colors and textures.  I love the smell of new wool yarn.  I love the feel of it squishing in my hands and springing back to shape.

I love the limitless potential.

I’m always amazed at how the tiny differences between two similar yarns can make a project turn out very differently.   It amazes me to watch a color changing yarn do it’s magic between my fingers.

I love how each skein of yarn represents sanity.  Just carrying a ball of yarn in my bag is enough.  With that, I carry the promise of a mental reset, the ability to pause and think, the process of calm, the prospect of renewal.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve prayed with each stitch, pouring out my problems and worries and fears to God.  And in turn, with each stitch I am filled with God’s promises of peace and joy for my life.

My family is amused.

My family doesn’t get it.  Yarn doesn’t hold the same appeal for them at all.  They all feel like they have enough hats and scarves for the season, so yarn isn’t a big deal for them.

They know enough to keep my supplied with yarn, but they don’t really understand the details.

My husband was genuinely amused.  He plopped me in the middle of yarn producing country (cotton, mohair AND wool… hello) and was actually surprised yesterday when I announced I wanted to drive to a yarn store  (the one that’s over an hour’s drive away).

Confused, but still amused.

[author] [author_image timthumb=’on’]http://thishappymom.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/DSC_0036.jpg[/author_image] [author_info]Houston Mom Blogger Susan Baker has a passion for encouraging weary worn out mothers to find joy in everyday motherhood. She has two elementary school boys, one engineering husband, and one cat. She has a strange fascination  for eggs, socks, and books.  She spends far too much time on Social Media and at Target. She is crazy in love with her family.  She serves an amazing God.   She lives an ordinary life filled with wonder. [/author_info] [/author]

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Susan Baker
I have a passion for encouraging weary worn out mothers to find joy in everyday motherhood and peace in unlikely places. I have two elementary school boys, one nerdy husband, and two cats. I have a strange fascination for bad puns, the color pink, socks, and books. I worry about running out of toilet paper, wine, and chocolate.. I serve an amazing God. I live an ordinary life filled with wonder.
Susan Baker
Susan Baker

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