Plarn It: The Seedy Unberbelly of Crafting

I have hit an all time low in the pursuit of the crochet craft.  I have become a thief.

Plarn materials

It all started one day at work when I got bored - good things rarely come from being bored, such as a life of crime.  I stumbled across this blog article that opened my eyes to the world of plarn, yarn made from plastic bags, and the not so green side of recycling plastic shopping bags.  I then did a quick Google search for a visual tutorial on making plarn, and from there the need to make plarn was set for addictive levels.  I immediately put out the call to my co-workers to bring me there unwanted, overflowing supply of plastic bags.

I started my first plarn ball alternating Wal-Mart bags with Kroger bags, which are a tan color.  But I quickly ran out of Wal-Mart bags, and the dilemma ensued.  I had already talked about plarn with many of my co-workers and they were anxious to see what this was all about.  The asked for demos and to see my finished product.  They brought me every sort of bag from every sort of store except Wal-Mart!  I was becoming desperate, and I knew where I could get my hands on those supplies easily.  No one pays attention to weird things that happen in Wal-Mart.  Well, actually . . .I guess I did run the risk of finding myself on www.peopleofwalmart.com (no, I am not going to put a link in for you).  When I found myself at Wal-Mart with my husband late one random Thursday night, the recycling bin called out to me with freshly discarded bags in desperate need of upcycling.  I had already resisted their charms once at Kroger mainly because I would have had to wrestle the bags out of 3 inch slit in the top of the barrel that stood to the side of the exit doors.  I still had some dignity left at that point.  But the white bags with blue writing were flowing out of this recycle bin just waiting to be plucked by a passing plarn crocheter.  Plus, my unfinished bag with 30 out of it's 44 rows called out to me in need of completion.  So, with a wink and nod from my husband I casually picked up a wad of bags with the non-nonchalance that would make a CIA handler proud.

Plarn tote bags

Since that incident, I am happy to report that my friends and colleagues have kept me well stocked.  I do still eye the recycle bins at any box store and get a giddy feeling any time a cashier puts a single item in a bag.  However, I must warn you that you invite me over I may just eye your supply of plastic bags and you may find it a little diminished at the end of the evening.

I Have A Prayer

A Disclaimer:  This post is also a reflection of my personal beliefs and convictions, and not necessarily position of the agency I currently work for.

This morning, my husband and I listened to Martin Luther King Jr.'s I Have a Dream speech in commemoration of  this day.  As I listened, it reminded me of something a co-worker recently said in a meeting, "This [poverty] is this generation's march."  I am serving on a committee at work that is looking at what our community (Fort Worth, TX and Tarrant County) would like look out of poverty, and this statement was said as a part of one of those meetings.  I pray that Dr. King will be honored today as I create my own version of his speech for this generation's march.

 I pray for the day when employers will go beyond the minimum wage and pay a living wage to their employees and take up their honorable duty to provide medical benefits to all employees no matter how many hours they work, so that parents do not have decided between medical care or groceries for their families.

I pray for the day when medical care is provided for everyone despite employment status, so that no one has to live in fear of getting sick or injured.  I pray for the day that the World Health Organization does not rank the United States "slightly ahead of Chad and Rwanda, but just behind Bangladesh and the Maldives" (The Healing of America: A Global Quest for Better, Cheaper, and Fairer Health Care, Reid, T.R.) in terms of fairness in access to medical care.

I have a prayer today!

I pray for the day when those who do not worry about paying bills will not pity and disparage those who need assistance, just assuming that they are lazy, but will reach out a hand and walk side-by-side with a neighbor no matter how they found themselves in need. 

I pray for the day that high school graduates do not have assume a mortgage sized debt in order to get a college degree.

I pray for the day that healthy food is not only accessible to all, but affordable as well. 

I pray for the day that poverty does not lend itself to creating victims of modern and sexual slavery.

I have a prayer today!

I pray for the day that that Body of Christ will look past denominational labels and come together in being the hands and feet of Christ to carry out His words in Matthew 25: 34-36.

I pray that God will show me how to care for "the least of these" in my community.

But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining a world without poverty, we must not be guilty of just throwing money at a "problem."  Let us not seek to relieve ourselves of discomfort at the sight of those in need by drinking from the cup of disdain and indifference.  We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of love and compassion.  We must not allow a creative protest against social injustice to degenerate into a pat on the back.  Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting material complacency with soul conviction.

The marvelous new awareness of poverty, which is engulfing communities must not lead us to a distrust of all those with means, for there are many who seek to alleviate the burden of poverty.  And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to the freedom of those in poverty.

We cannot walk alone.

The Missing Piece of the Picture

The week before Christmas I got stuck in traffic.  There is nothing unusual about getting stuck in traffic during the holidays or the drive home from work, but this traffic slow down had a lasting effect on me.  Here is what I saw and why it stayed with me:

The first thing I saw over the cars in front of me where the flashing lights of an ambulance in the midst of the accident scene, which immediately prompted prayer for anyone with possible injuries.  The two cop cars blocking the lane I was in came into view next.  As I passed the cop cars, I spied a group of three teenagers that seemed most out of place with the rest of the scene.  They huddled together holding an iPhone out in front of them with "We're so happy to be here together" smiles taking a picture.  Dumbfounded, I continued to inch forward looking for an answer to the scene unfolding before me.  The cops and paramedics were huddled around the ambulance some 20 feet away from the teenagers not paying attention to them.  On the other side of the ambulance, was the rest of the story.  A man in his thirties stood with a look of despair on the other side of the ambulance.  Just past him was a silver Mercedes C-class with no apparent damage and a 90's model Buick LeSabre with damage to the front end.

I would love at this point to make a heap of assumptions about who is at fault and what actually happened, but I don't really need to in order to be concerned about what I saw.  No matter who is at fault, I am bothered that this group of teenagers who were so blissfully calloused to the fact that someone could have been seriously injured.  I am bothered that they did not seem to care that someone's, possibly including theirs, property was damaged and that it costs time and money to have it repaired.  What exactly are they going to do with that photo? Post it on Facebook with the caption, "And this is us at the scene of the accident. Aren't we so cute? Our hair didn't even get messed up." 

My prayer that day changed from requests to sustain life to asking God to open the eyes of these teenagers to others around them and give them a genuine concern for others.  As an aunt, a youth leader and a general role model to anyone I encounter, I pray that this prayer would be true in my life first and foremost.  I have a feeling that this is what was the greatest missing piece in this picture.  Be a role model of caring for those you know and those you don't know.

Tis the Season . . .

For seven and a half years, I lived on a tropical island in the South China Sea, which put a very interesting spin on what makes it feel like Christmas to me.  First of all, December falls during the rainy season.  Nothing like snuggle up with the a/c blowing, a storm brewing and a cup of hot cocoa.  But the best part of December was the fact that it was finally pomelo season.  Oh yeah!  What is pomelo, you ask.  Indulge me for a few minutes while I share with you about my favorite fruit.

I present to you, the pomelo.

Pomelos are a citrus fruit and you will often see them labeled as a grapefruit, which is very wrong!  It is a pomelo.  Same family, different fruit.  An orange is not a grapefruit - that's all I'm saying.  But I guess until you actually try one you go with the what you know.  So, when you see pomelos mislabeled in your grocery store, know that someone is missing out on a fantastic fruit experience.  Can you tell I like pomelos yet?

Personally, the best way to enjoy a pomelo is to camp out on the cold tile floor with your knife, a bowl and a good movie.  That is not very practical for most Americans, but please do not let that stop you either. Here is a little guide to enjoying a luscious pomelo.

The first step is to select your pomelo at the store.  If you can find pomelos that come from The Philippines, you have struck pomelo gold.  Second runner up would be Thailand, then Malaysia followed by anything from the Western Hemisphere (unfortunately that is what I find most around here, but it is better than nothing.) Select two pomelos and notice which one is heavier, i.e. which one has more juice in it.  You can do this hand scale thing for a few more, but you may want to switch hands.

Now that you have your pomelo home with you, and you have danced a dance of joy, score the rind all the way around twice in opposing circles to create four sections.  Pomelos have a very think rind (up to 1/2 inch thick), so cut deep but not too deep.

Look ma! No hands!

Next, peel like you have never peeled before.

I told you it was thick.  You didn't believe me, did you?

Once you have it all peeled you find a pretty treasure inside.

Rind on the right, treasure on the left.

Peel as much of the fluffy white stuff as possible, mainly cause it's fun.  Maybe that is just me.  Unlike, other citrus fruits you really don't want to eat the skin of the pomelo section (it's just really thick).  Once you break open the skin the meat comes out quite easily with your teeth or fingers.  Yummy! 

I prefer the white flesh pomelos, but this will do.

I know what you are thinking - looks like a grapefruit.  Let me assure you that it has a much more mellow sweet flavor than that tart tang of a grapefruit.  It is very refreshing.  Just go try one already.  Oh, and Merry Christmas.

Letter to an Immigrant

A Disclaimer:  This post is quite a bit different from my recent posts.  This post is also a reflection of my personal beliefs and convictions, and not necessarily position of the agency I currently work for.

 

Hello,

I don't really know who you are, although, I have heard the stories and stereotypes.  I am sure I have passed by you on the street and in the store, but I do not really know who you are.

Everyone around me is drawing lines in the sand saying you are a problem that needs to be solved.  Problems can be dissected, broken down, solved, compromised and walked away from.  However, I see you as a person, who is complicated and delicate, not easily discarded.  That makes my thoughts and feelings all the more confusing.  I have lived in a country as a foreign resident with a green card appreciating the tight controls in place at borders.  But, I wonder if all countries are the same.  My heart wants to offer a cup of cold water, but my head asks if you come just to take advantage or fleeing the law and if I will get hurt opening my hand to stranger.  However, if I am following the example Jesus set before me; do I even get to ask those questions?  If I look at the hands He offered, I will see the scars of offering. 

I wish there was a way to sit down and talk to you.  In all the discussion about this issue of immigration, there does not seem to be many people talking to you.  I do not know that any of us truly understand why you come or if we ever really will.  We have theories and probably uneducated guesses, but I do not know that anyone has actually stopped to ask you why you come.  We have seen hard times, here in the US, but I doubt that many have experienced desperate poverty.  What does make you so desperate to leave your country that you would risk your life to come here?  Do the rumors and movies make life look so fantastic here that you just have to see for yourself?  Is it the poverty and watching your oldest child give up his dinner, so that his younger siblings can eat?  Is it the drug gang violence that threatens to swallow up any possibility of a better life for your children?  Was it even your choice to come? Or were you taken from your home and family as a victim of the sex trade, and then dumped on the streets in a foreign land because of disease or pregnancy? 

I want to understand.  I want to listen.  I want to know you, instead of just throwing up walls and fences to insulate myself from real people.  I know many will consider me liberal or just plain crazy for saying all of this. I also know that I cannot solve the problems of your country that may bring you here.  But I do know that I never want to stop seeing the value of a human life no matter how that life was brought to my doorstep. 

Sincerely,

Your neighbor

Weekend Crochet Warrior

My husband and I spent last weekend coming down with and recovering from a head cold respectively.  In other words, we sat around in our pajamas doing nothing, randomly whining about how we feel or comparing snot.  Oh, the joys of marriage. . .

The upside for me is that I was on the road to recovery and actually had unfogged enough to do something - crochet.  Since I was sick, I decided to focus on crocheting something for myself.  It's so hard to think of others when you don't feel well.

Fingerless gloves with mystery yarn

My first project was a pattern for fingerless gloves from The Chicks with Sticks Guide to Crochet by Nancy Queen and Mary Ellen O'Connell.  Since this is an item that actually has to fit, I tried to pay attention to gauge. I have to be honest and say that I have never crotched a swatch like the books always recommend.  Usually, I'm just making a shawl - it's either long and wide enough or it's not.  I haven't gotten into any of the complicated patterns with different motifs, so I'm sure at some point I will be forced to really figure out this gauge thing until then . . .I used some fuzzy blue yarn that came from the donation pile at church (don't worry, I didn't use it all on myself).  So, being mystery yarn, the gauge didn't exactly come out as specified in the pattern.  I tried changing to a smaller hook twice to no avail, so I went with the original hook size.  Everything turned out A-OK in my book.

Flapper Hat Model with cute curly hair

My flapper hat attempt

Now, the hat is another story.  I then attempted to crochet this lovely flapper style hat with some Caron Simply Soft that my mom gave me. Again, I could not for the life of me, get the gauge to come out correctly.  Also again, it is possibly because I didn't use the exact yarn called for in the pattern.  What is a cheap crotcher to do?  So, needless to say the hat did not come out quite as cute as the picture (hence the rubber ball as a model head, and not mine).  Or maybe it was some weird hope that if I made this hat and wore it on my head, I would suddenly have cute curly hair and when that didn't happen I was disappointed in that hat?  Nah, I would never have an irrational thought like that!

Those who can't create - MODIFY!

Since it has been almost a year since my last blog post, which had nothing to do with being crafty, I'm sure you are all thinking I have given up on yarn.  For those who were betting on a passing fancy, you were wrong - it was the blogging that fell to the wayside.  So, here is my attempt to revive my blogging efforts and share more of my adventures in craft, yoga, journeying with God, marriage and more.

For my first entry, I must submit my latest creation . . .alteration.  My best work is taking something someone else has done, practically destroy it, and put it back together again.  Take for example, my costume for the 8th Annual Wonder Girl Costume Party:  a 20's flapper dresser fashioned from last year's 60's girl group dress.

2010 Costume

Yes, please ignore the fact that I am not very photogenic.  Also keep in mind that I did not make the dress on the left or achieve the 60's hair on my own.  Yes, someone else did the sewing and the back combing for this costume.

2011 Costume

 On the right, is a complete modify of last year's dress that I somehow managed to do myself.  Ok, so I had a little bit of input from my mom, who actually knows how to sew and my husband helped place a few strategic pins.  Actually, when I first consulted with my mom we discussed tucking the shoulders in a bit and creating a deeper scoop neck.  I decided to go in a wee bit different, and more drastic, direction, and basically just cut off the top 6 inches of the dress.  My first thought also was to use some of the fringe as straps for the dress, but as everyone warned me - that stuff is expensive - and looking at the material I cut off, I decided to make golden straps from the scraps using my new wonder tool - Stitch Withcery. That allowed me to have the strip of fringe across the top, which I think really looks good.  For attaching the fringe, I used Steam-A-Seam, which is a thinner adhesive cousin to Stitch Witchery.  The only actual sewing I had to do for this project was under the arms where the arm hole was and tacking the straps in place.

Now, another major work of fine craftsmanship for this costume is the hair.  And for anyone who has ever helped me fix, curl, shellac my hair into something other than board straight boring, you will appreciate this one.  I evidently did learn something in those various lessons on hairspray, curling irons and bobby pins.  With many thanks to White Rain, I give you my pin curled 20's hair-do.

In closing, I must once again thank the Wonder Girls for giving me an opportunity to hone my modification skills, Hobby Lobby for such wonderful coupons and staff, White Rain for helping me achieve hair success and a slight buzz.