can ’ t help but have bohemian blood . I currently reside in Bayou Vista , Texas , a short distance from Houston and Galveston Island , but growing up embedded in the counterculture of Haight and Ashbury in the 1960 ’ s leaves its mark on a girl . My paternal grandmother had a tailor shop in San Francisco . Yes , she made all of my clothes . I remember playing behind her cast iron Singer sewing machine when I was little . I knew how to thread a bobbin before I learned to tie my shoelaces . Fabrics and buttons were my playgrounds during the times I spent with her . As an only child , I had to entertain myself . My 64 pack of Crayola pencil crayons with a built-in sharpener were my best friends . One summer I visited my maternal grandmother in Wyandotte , Michigan . She taught me to crochet . I made the biggest granny square ..... ever .
Time went by and we moved to Point Reyes National Seashore in Northern California . This is where I went to high school . My playground then was a place of timeless beauty amongst giant redwoods poised on towering cliffs overlooking the untamed Pacific Ocean .
In the late 1990 ’ s , the landscape changed to the big skies of Texas . As the millennium turned I decided to re-teach myself to crochet . All it took was a library book , a cheap ball of yarn , an old hook and two hours on the living room floor swearing and smiling interchangeably as I failed and succeeded . By then , you could say I was hooked .