When I get old… I hope I’m just like Lucette

Sorry I haven’t posted much in the past few days. I had a stomach thing and I’m very wimpy about stomach things. They turn me into a whiny baby. I pout. I mope. Laundry piles up. Also, I don’t blog (apparently). I’m especially sorry about the delay because I knew my next post would be about Lucette and I’ve been looking forward to sharing a little bit about her with the world.

Lucette is one of the grand dames at my church and she is, in my opinion, one of the kindest people I know. But, it took me a while to recognize that kind, sweet nature because Lucette is perfectly, utterly, outrageous.

(In truth her name is not Lucette. I’ve changed it to protect her privacy. But if you ever run into her, I betcha you’ll recognize her from this description because she is one-of-a-kind!)

  • She is ninety-two and a half. That is exactly they way she tells people her age (and she tells people her age constantly)…. “and a half”.
  • She is nearly deaf but refuses to wear a hearing aid so you have to shout when you talk to her. Like many people with hearing problems, she shouts right back out you.
  • She is French so all of her shouting is in that lovely, romantic accent.
  • Even though she still lives alone, drives herself anyplace she needs to go, has her hair done every week, has a mani/pedi every week, and wears open-toed high-heeled shoes to show off that pedicure, she’ll tell you that its probably time that she went to live in a “place for old folks”.
  • If you get within five feet of her she will grab you and kiss you.  I always end up with a big set of lips stamped on my cheek in pink lipstick.

Yes, I used to pretty intimidated.  But then one day, as I was watching ladies my mother’s age run away from her in terror, I realized Lucette is awesome. Now I just kick back and watch her operate with awe and admiration.  I want to be like Lucette when I grow up.

The other thing about Lucette, she crochets at the speed of light. I have made a modest contribution to the prayer shawl ministry (I think I’ve made 4 in the past year). Lucette cranks out a shawl a week. Beautiful, big, worsted weight shawls. Each one is a different design and each one is eagerly snatched up. I once had a lady ask me to give Lucette the pattern for a shawl I was wearing.

“Umm.” I said. “You want me to give the pattern to …you?”

“Oh no. Give it to Lucette. Then I’ll get her to make it for me.”

Two weeks later that lady was showing off her new shawl.

Have I mentioned that Lucette is generous? She is. Scary, unstoppable, and generous. She gifted me her entire set of small-ish crochet hooks and her two favorite pattern books. When I objected, she said something along the lines of:

“Oh no. You take. I’m too old to be doing the tiny wool…

If you’re imagining this conversation, imagine it LOUD and very French.

and too big to wear these things. You take it. You are so little.”

Okay, this woman is shorter that I am. I assure you she is quite a little (but still scary) person. Also, I try very hard to never, ever do thread crochet because it will make you go blind and crazy. However, I’m not completely stupid. I didn’t argue with her because I knew I would loose. I simply pasted on a big smile and said thank you. And then she kissed me.

Here is the loot:

Here is the loot being inspected by the Feline Overlord:

Shortly after this picture was taken the loot was pushed off the table onto the floor where it could be properly pounced on, batted around, and then laid on top of for awhile. Then it was pronounced acceptable (i.e. she lost interest) and I was allowed to have it back and take a few more pictures.

I didn’t keep the booklets. Don’t tell Lucette. I knew I’d never make any of the stuff in them so I passed the booklets along to ladies in my crafting group that appreciate things like thread pineapple doilies and clothes hangers with faces on them. Also there were numerous duplicate sizes in that collection of hooks so I passed the extras along as well. I did keep a full set of steel hooks for myself even though I have vowed to never again do thread crochet (Makes you blind and crazy. I’m not kidding about that. Beware). I also hung onto one medium sized double-ended hook that I suspect is carved from bone. How could I give that one up, right?

Also…. I kept this:

I have no idea what size that hook is. There is no label on it. The smallest labeled hook in the collection is a Size 14 and this one is smaller than that. Any one know what size? I’ll take guesses, lol. I’d love to have some idea of what to call this teeny-tiny, ridiculous hook.

I’ll never use it of course. A hook this small would make my eyeballs bleed and have me reaching for a straight jacket in under 15 minutes. But I have to keep it in my hook stash forever and ever. You understand, right?

P.S. I own too much some camera equipment and camera accessories and I think I used nearly all of it to get the picture of that tiny little hook. I used my zoom lens with a +4 filter, and a doubler, and a mounted flash, and a separate light source, and a camera stand ….

…. to take a picture of a crochet hook. I felt kind of like a dork doing that. But I consoled myself knowing that the only ones who saw me do this was Feline Overlord and Cowardly Boy Cat. They don’t speak English and couldn’t tell anyone. My dorkiness would stay secret. But then I was showing my friends the hook at craft night and one of them, who is also a shutter bug and knows allllllllll about photography, asked me if I’d taken a picture of the tiny hook. I said… yes. She gave me a big wide grin. She knew. My dorkiness was revealed.

So I figured I might as well admit it to the world.

P.S.S. This post got really long. Sorry about that. I guess that’s what happens when I take too long of a break.


8 thoughts on “When I get old… I hope I’m just like Lucette

  1. I really enjoy your blog! I sure got a laugh over Lucette and her outrageous frenchness.

    Then I giggled over the microscopic crochet hook and too much photography equipment. I can relate.

    Years ago, back when seeing eyeglasses, aka readers, were just a blip on the distant horizon, I got the happy idea to crochet one of those thread medallion bedspreads. King size. I worried away at it for a year and put it away having finished only 8 inches. God only knows how many hours I put into that.

    Well, now that readers are an integral part of my life, I decided to finish the old WIP. (20 year break) and found I couldn’t tell if there was actually a hook on the end of the steel thing.

    Needless to say, I cut the crochet thread, tossed the unfinished thing and now tie up my hand spun yarn with the yellowed ball of crochet thread for washing. No point wasting it, right?

    More power to those who can see the hook and have the dexterity to make those pineapple lacy doilies and bedspreads. I’ll stick to spinning and knitting with big needles and worsted yarn.

    Off to put up my lenses and filters and such for my two canon cameras and try to fit it all in the woefully small allotted space. All supervised by my three feline overseers, Mufassa, Bobcat and the Walrus. They’d rather I just wash and spread out fleece to dry, for their nesting napping comfort, than mess with thin steel spears or paw crushing lenses anyday.



    1. Yes! That is exactly my difficulty with thread crochet. I too can never figure out where to put my hook. Its endlessly frustrating. I’m so glad you found another use for that yellow thread. 🙂

      Also, I’m always glad to hear from anyone who gets bullied by their cats. It makes me feel like less of a wimp.


      1. A bit late, but I have just found this post in the archives. Here somewhere (in England) I too have an equally tiny crochet hook, probably the handle is bone, given to me by my Great Aunt, a real character, who taught me to crochet. And she soon had me making tiny bits of fine lace. I left it all behind many years ago and am now a knitter, and I have lost the ability to crochet for now. But one day I will dig out that tiny hook and the thread I think I left with it, and if the eyes can take it we may see a tiny miracle…


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