It began with a desire to furnish handmade gifts to my family. I made a purse for my mom, a socktopus, book, and ball for baby, new stockings for both kids, a Princess Leia pillow case for Big Sis, and a hat for hubby. Then I watched my dad head off to work in the cold wintery morn and thought, he needs a hat!
Of course, I had journeyed from the east to get to christmas with my parents, so my lovely collection of interesting and cool yarns was many, many, many miles away. All I had was a crochet needle, and the vague promise of a (most likely burnt orange) ball of yarn tucked away in my mother’s study closet.
It was time for more yarn. It was a yarn emergency, one might say. The other problem? The only yarn place I could remember was Hobby Lobby, far away and bound to be insane this time of year. Mom and I left big sis with hubby and dashed off with baby in tow to South Pearl to see if there was store there with yarn.
Then we decided to try south Gaylord first, but the store we thought was there had moved. The woman at the store we desperately entered for inspiration and direction sent us to Lamb Shoppe. It was back the way we came, and with much giggling we realized we could have driven to Hobby Lobby and back before we hit the new store, but “it was an adventure!!” we chanted in chorus!
We tore off to the store the shop clerk thought she remembered being around 12th and Madison. We tried to remember if the presidential streets were west or east of Colorado Blvd. We drove through holiday traffic and went far out of our away to avoid holiday hot spots like Cherry Creek.
Then we saw it. Lamb Shoppe. Of course, the baby was asleep, so I left Mom in the car to guard his slumber and I entered the store.
It was wall to wall yarn. No, it was wall to wall, floor to ceiling yarn. With racks and shelves of yarn in the middle. Wool yarn, cashmere yarn, silk yarn. Knobby yarn, smooth yarn. Yarn earrings, yarn sweaters, yarn ornaments and socks. Anything and everything yarn was in that store.
It was a crochet-a-holic’s dream. It was Yarn Mecca! My fingers itched with possibility (and the wool I had been fondling), as I wandered in search of a gray tweedy yarn for Dad’s hat. Finally I found one, and managed to restrain myself from buying anything else.
While I waited in line, the clerk recognized me. She was the mother of a girl I had been in school with from elementary through highschool. She was sweet enough to tell me I hadn’t changed a bit. (Of course, she couldn’t see the vast knowledge and maturity I had acquired in the decade and a half since she had last seen me, so I assumed she meant I still looked the same. I do not, but I appreciated the kindness.)
Triumphantly I returned to the car and my mother with a bag full of yarn. I shared the stories of my encounters in Yarn Mecca and we drove a cozy sleeping boy home and tucked him in. Then it was coffee, conversation, and crochet as I whipped my Dad’s hat into being.
On christmas morn he opened his hat, popped it on his head, and thanked me. I think he looked quite dapper in it.
Now I am charged with finding a similar store out east, or else, I will have to make the long journey back west to Yarn Mecca when my next creative frenzy strikes.