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?

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.