Way back around Thanksgiving, Thing One had been up for a visit. We had a great time and reluctantly drove him back down to school when the break was up, holding our breath while we did, because it had started to snow heavily.
On our return trip, we discovered a toll booth attendant who crochets her own shopping bags out of recycled plastic bags. We stopped to pay and ended up ogling her work, as she had two bags in progress, one tan and red, and the other white with blue and red accents. The pattern she said, was one that she created, “from here.” (Insert tapping of head.)
People might think that bags made from grocery store bags would be ugly and frumpy, but they weren’t. The coiled bottoms recalled my Great-Aunt Mary’s rag rugs, and the sides resembled a woven straw summer beach bag. They were unique, original things and easily as pretty as beach bags for which you plonk down cash.
We couldn’t talk long, alas. There was no line at the toll booth, but the weather had definitely gotten worse (our 40 minute drive from that point took us two hours) so we rolled on. And immediately after I hit the interstate, I realized that I had my camera in my car and I hadn’t asked her if I could take a picture of her work.
Over the past month and a half or so, I have had countless occasions, both Thing and non-Thing related, to pass through that toll booth. No sign of the lady or her work.
Until last night. We rolled up and there she was again, this time with a creamy white concoction on her hook.
Finally! It had happened! She was there! She was imminently bloggable!
And I had just given up keeping a camera in the car the week before.
I wonder if the Crochet Goddess wants me to sacrifice some knitting needles to her for return of my catching crocheters in the wild on film luck? Hmmm, there are those huge plastic needles the ex got me….
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