Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I was in the third grade.
My teacher was a woman named Mrs. Cook whom I believed was impossibly old, although it is clear from this picture that she was not:
and it is more likely that I (first row second from the left) was impossibly young.
Our desks faced east, and there were two skills we were expected to acquire by the end of third grade: how to write in cursive and our multiplication tables up to 10.
Little did I know that there was a person in the classroom who was going to have a hand in changing my life as I hurtled through middle-age.
The girl in the first row with long pig-tails and a red turtleneck, was one of my good friends that year. After the third grade, I attended a different school, and as children we were never again as close as we would be, but shortly before we turned 50, we reconnected and began to keep up with each other.
It was, for my long-ago third-grade friend, a particularly challenging chapter of her life, and I decided that she needed a talisman of some kind to help her keep her sense of adventure and joy while life was busy throwing obstacles in her way, and I decided that what she needed was a cookieghan.
I had a clear idea of what I wanted to make, but no idea how I would accomplish it.
Eighteen months and 169 crochet cookies later, I had it figured out, and the cookieghan of my vision was realized in this:
I had thought that when if finished the cookieghan, I would be done with crochet cookies, but what I had not realized was that the cookies were not yet done with me, and this particular piece was simply the first in a series of crochet cookie projects that would get their hooks into me.