12:39 a.m. - 2006-05-08
Sticks and Stash
You've heard about this knitting craze, haven't you? I say
craze, but
it is so beyond that. It is a cult, plain and simple. What else
could
turn so many savvy twenty and thirty somethings into absolute
slaves
to the needles? You may think I'm being funny, but I have heard
of
women blowing entire paychecks at their local yarn store. And
for the
uninitiated, the local yarn store is "LYS" and the surplus of
yarn
that they purchase (which would take them a lifetime to actually
knit), well, they call that their "stash". You heard me right.
Stash.
And they hide that stash well because they know they have a
dirty,
dirty habit. But these girls just can't stop. They have their
own
lingo, their own hang outs, they are organized and listen to me
now,
they are recruiting.

I know about this because I've been indoctrinated, and as I
write this
I'm desperately working my way out. I will explain this later.
For now
all you need to know is that these women are highly dangerous,
they
carry pointy sticks and wear cute scarves. Beware! Maybe by
reading my
story you can save somebody you love. Maybe you can save
yourself.

I guess you could say that I was ripe for the picking. At the
tender
age of six I began haphazardly making clothes for my Barbie
dolls out
of discarded tube socks and bits of ribbon. Later I dabbled in
collage, reupholstery, sewing, cooking, and so on. Believe me, I
tried
to walk the straight and narrow and buy all my clothes and
housewares,
but somehow I just couldn't overcome the urge to craft. I'd go a
few
days or even weeks without making a single thing, and then all
of a
sudden I would look at a hubcap on the side of the road and see
a
clock. Or I would notice that my newly purchased skirt would
look so
much better if it were six inches shorter and had some
appliqués. I
could blame it on my genes, I suppose. I come from a long line
of
carpenters, gardeners, seamstresses. But in the end it was peer
pressure, the thing that always gets the kids.

I've known my friend Liz for seven years now. We have sons just
a year
apart, enjoy shopping at thrift stores, going to movies and
eating
out. Well, I should say we once enjoyed those things. All that
has
changed now. Over the years I heard Liz wish aloud how she'd
like to
learn to knit. She also wished aloud for an Airstream trailer
and a
decent husband, so I never paid much mind to her musings. And
then one
day she logged onto the internet, found a website with knitting
instructions and that was it. She was hooked. Within a month she
was
up to her ears in yarn and all she ever talked about was garter
stitches and cables.

I tried to be a good friend by taking interest in her new
"hobby".
When I admired a scarf she had made, she quickly offered to
teach me.
I'll admit the temptation was there, but I could see a glimpse
down
the road she was taking and it was too dark for me. I craft for
recreation only, man. So we drifted apart after that and she
started
hanging out with other girls. Knitters, like her. They met on
god-knows-what kind of message boards and later they'd hook up
in dark
coffee shops around town.

Months passed and Liz only got in deeper. If there is one thing
about
my friend, she is ambitious. Not content to drive sixty miles to
the
LYS or order more yarn for her stash from E-Bay, she set up a
clandestine yarn lab right in her house. That's right, equipped
with a
spinning wheel and a trash bag full of wool, she starting
manufacturing her own stuff.

In the meantime I was going through a bit of a crisis. Having
quit my
band, resolving to stop hanging around my drunken friends, and
enduring an emotional go-round with some catty girls in town, I
found
myself with a lot of time on my hands and a longing for
companionship.
I could tell you that Liz descended upon me like a vulture on a
carcass, but it wouldn't be the truth. No, I showed up at her
knitting
group, begging for a fix. Anything to fill the void, just a
little
something to make me feel creative again and maybe even less
lonely.

I think back on that first day I cast on and, well, I know I
should be
kicking myself... but I get a rush just remembering it. I felt
like a
little kid that had just learned to tie her shoes. What does
fill me
with shame is the knitting needles and boxes of yarn I have
hiding in
my back room. Hundreds of dollars worth, and that stuff is not
going
to knit itself. It calls to me in the wee hours. I'm embarrassed
that
the clerks at the local Hobby Lobby recognize me. I knew I had a
problem when I started a carefully calculated routine of
shopping at
Hobby Lobby one day, Michael's a few days later, scrounging at
the
Wal-Marts in between, all while supplementing my habit by
hitting yarn
stores in other towns.

It would be easy to write this off as the unfortunate story of a
couple of bored, small town girls gone astray, but this is no
isolated
event. As I have said, they have organized and they are getting
bigger
and stronger every day. By infiltrating the media and creating
propaganda that is obviously meant to lure in young, susceptible
kids,
the knitters are taking over the entire planet and they won't
stop
until the whole planet is one tightly wound ball of yarn.

Don't believe me? Let's take Debbie Stoller, for example.
Perhaps you
recognize her name as the editor of the cool indie magazine,
Bust. You
may have heard of her New Girl Order, eh? You probably just
thought
that was a catchy slogan to sell magazines. My friend, it is
much more
sinister than that. It is a well documented fact that she is the
Grand
Wizard of the Cult of Knit. She penned the new knitter's bible,
Stitch
N Bitch. And if her motivation was unclear, she followed it up
with
another titled Stitch N Bitch Nation. Sends chills up your
spine,
doesn't it? If that fiend Debbie Stoller had her way, every girl
in
America and beyond would know how to knit.

The attack on creative young minds doesn't stop there. There are
books
with titles like Hip To Knit and even Vogue is in on the act,
preying
on teenagers with their flashy new Knit.1 magazine. There is
even a
television program called Knitty Gritty where they show people
how to
knit in the privacy of their living rooms! If this isn't a good
enough
reason to get parents monitoring what their kids are watching, I
don't
know what is.

It has taken being broke, embarrassed, and a nagging pain in
both
wrists to make me realize that I have to change. Hardly a day
passes
that I don't think I should have just bought a pretty scarf for
myself
and went out to the movies instead of picking up the needles.
The road
out of this hell is a rough one. There is beautiful yarn every
time I
turn around and I keep giving in, saying, "Just one more quick
hat..."
I've tried quitting cold turkey but it's just so hard when I
have a
poncho halfway finished that my mom would just love.

That's why I've taken up crochet. Some people call it the
gateway
craft, but I approached it like methadone. I thought I'd just
use it
to get myself through the day until I could find the strength to
kick
the habit on my own; I soon learned that crochet is faster. A
hat that
used to take two hours only takes me one now. Maybe the high
doesn't
last as long, but in no time at all I can whip up a potholder
and get
that feeling back.

The peer pressure to come back to the needles has been tough,
I'll
admit that. My knitting friends don't treat me the same any
more. They
see me as weak, I can tell. I used to be in their circle, after
all,
so I know how they talk. If there is anyone that comes close to
receiving the loathing that knitters feel for non-knitters, it
is
crocheters. I hold my head high, though. Why use two sticks when
you
can use one hook? The beauty of this is that when I completely
wreck
the bones and tendons in my right hand, I can just switch to the
left.
Crochet is the smarter, faster, better drug.

(The above article can be found at:
http://www.eyhom.com/cultofknit.html.)

So, the moral of this article? If you're a knitting addict,
admit it,
get help – either online or via a knitting group offline, and
don't
feel too guilty about your hobby J

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