This is a little bit of a story about my parents… specifically, my father. I’ve talked before about how supportive my parents have been of my choice of career, housing me when I went to Rhinebeck, and in the case of my mother, attending the event.
My mother, having needlework as a common language (her sewing, and me… well, everything), sometimes understands what I do in practical terms a little more. My father on the other hand, understands the business side of being self employed a little more, being a numbers man. He’s the guy who first taught me how to use an Excel worksheet, and taught me how to setup my Outlook when I got to college.
You should also know, before I proceed anymore, that my father loves the hunt of a good bargain. He collects Matchbox and Hotwheels cars, and every antique store, Toys ‘R Us, and flea market is an opportunity to find something interesting.
So about six months back, I mention that I wish I had something to display my knits on that was a little more… professional than my Duct Tape Dress Form. Sometime like some feet forms, a head, and perhaps another mannequin (because 2 just isn’t enough). Rather quickly, my father finds the perfect torso mannequin, from a woman who had just reduced the price.
The next month and a half Dad starts emailing me mannequin heads. We cannot find a good one. Some are too realistic, and look creepy. Some of them are simply too beat up. Then, one weekend, I get a call from my parents. They are on a hunt for a copy of Piecework Magazine, the one where my design is on the cover. They’re at a local yarn store, and the woman has beautiful glass heads on display. Do I like them?
I look at the picture. Yes, I tell my parents. They’re beautiful! Are they for sale?
No, but my father is on the hunt. He’s seen what I mean, and those are perfect.
Need I tell you what I got for Christmas?
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| TWO! |
Well, all this time I’ve also been searching for a book, called Flawless Knit Repair by a woman named Rena Crockett. (I know how to do knit repair. I wanted to see how this woman did it, and if we did anything different… but that’s another story.) This book is like Sasquatch. Published in 1998, there’s a review in a back copy of Piecework, mentioning that you can write to her and send a check plus shipping, and she’ll send you a copy. Someone says they once saw a copy. Kate Atherly references the book in a Knitty Article. It’s cited in The Principles of Knitting. But nobody, nobody carries it. It went out of print a few years later, and it has been a small, self-published print run, in the era of Then, I find one copy – on Amazon for nearly $100. It’s by all reports a 20 page book – I’m not paying that much for it.
So I go online, finding old listings for the book on outdated websites for stores and call them up – by any chance do they still have the book in stock?
Not a chance.
I’ve started calling up libraries in the area of the place where you could write to the Author to request a copy, hoping that someone might be willing to even copy the pages of this out of print book – no luck. I’m getting to the point where I’m going to start creepily messaging people on Ravelry who have mentioned the book, asking if they have a copy.
And then, it occurs to mention to my father that I’m looking for the book.
“Rena Crockett,” I tell him, “Flawless Knit Repair.” “Just in case you happen to see it at a flea market or something.”
Well, I’ll tell you what my father found. Last week, an Ebay listing came up, from a woman somewhere in Maine.
And you know what I have in my hot, precious hands right now?
Thanks, dad.
Somehow it’s become the middle of January, and I’m not quite sure how that happened! It’s cold and rainy out today (as it seems to the the majority of the winter in the South), and it’s got me thinking 
