Life is full of chronicles.
For 2025, me and my friends all made bingo cards because they were trending on social media so we saw them everywhere and seemed inevitable at that point. They also seemed like a lot of fun. We all need more fun in our lives, except for that one friend who decided to instead fill his up with work-related tasks and personal improvement (in an overly critical, unachievable way). I chose to focus on a mixture of fun, things that push me a little outside of my comfort zone, and tasks that I've been meaning to do for years.
One of my tasks was learning to crochet.
I didn't plan to crochet a lot. I just wanted to learn the basics so I could make a fried egg coaster and sprout cable ties. I chose these patterns specifically because they were cute but seemed relatively simple since I saw Youtube tutorials on them labelled "for beginners". Except I had already attempted to crochet once in 2020 and quickly quit out of frustration - what are those abbreviations? How am I supposed to know where the stitch is? Oh, I've lost track of where I was.
After 5 years of growth and maturity (one would hope), I attempted this again and have actually managed to stick it out past that initial learning curve. Turns out you really do get better with practice. I initially resisted buying more yarn because who has the room and/or money for these things? I have enough craft supplies as-is. But cute crochet tutorials kept popping up on my feed and suddenly my world had opened up after learning just a few basic patterns.
Several months in and it's become one of my main hobbies. I've watched a lot of TV and movies while I crochet, especially the X Files (I want to believe). I crochet on buses and trains and feel like a granny (non-derogatory). My friends and family have all received crochet experiments of varying quality against their will, and will continue to do so.
My crochet hooks are my nonna's. I got her crochet hooks, her sewing box, and her pinking shears when she passed. They are well-used but in excellent condition. Her and my nonno were typical old school Italians who made most things from scratch. She crocheted me a baby blanket when I was born, which must have taken forever seeing as how long it takes me to make a keychain. She also made a crochet clown with dangly arms that scared me for years after I watched the Poltergeist. And I remember the tiny, intricate doilies that adorned most of the surfaces of their house when I was young - it didn't click that she made those ubiquitous doilies until years later, as I'm sat in my 30s and looking up various crochet tutorials. I didn't expect that learning to crochet would allow me to connect with her a decade after her death.
Crochet is such a labour of love.
