Thursday said when we got to Ventura Boulevard and Vanalden. A police motorcycle and a cruiser were parked at the curb. The cops and several people were standing in the open gate to the Tarzana Cultural Center. Even from a distance, I couldn’t miss the big crocheted hearts in different shades of pink hanging from the white gazebo.
I’m not sure if it was curiosity or just nosiness, but I pulled over and we got out. When I got closer, I recognized the barrel-chested motor officer as Adele’s boyfriend, Eric Humphries. He was standing with the two uniforms from the cruiser talking to several women. Thursday was right behind me as we approached.
Eric recognized me and nodded a greeting. “Do you know anything about this?” he said pointing to what he called crocheted graffiti. Before I could even tell him I knew nothing, he was explaining to the women that my name was Molly Pink, and I was one of the Tarzana Hookers and knew all about crochet. The women sparked on the name and crochet comment and suddenly looked at me suspiciously.
“We don’t mind the hearts,” one of them said, pointing at the decorations dangling from the gazebo, “but
whoever
did that came onto the cultural center property when it was closed.”
“It’s trespassing, plain and simple,” one of the uniforms said.
“And it’s illegal, just like all that tagging with spray paint,” Eric said. I didn’t want to bring up that it was hardly as permanent as spray paint. A few snips of some scissors, and they could be rid of the yarn bombing if it bothered them. I suppose it was trespassing, but with the idea of adding a little color and fun. Eric pulled me aside.
“Is there anything you want to tell me about who is doing this?” he said. I knew what he was really asking. He knew what a fanatic Adele was about crochet and wondered if she was involved. There was something so proper about the tall motor officer. Not a scuff on his knee-high boots or the slightest wrinkle in his shirt. He was an absolute rule follower, which made him an odd pairing with Adele. I told him the absolute truth. I had no idea.
I explained the concept of yarn bombing to Thursday as we drove the rest of the way to the bookstore. Once I’d parked the car, she followed me around to the front, admiring the display in the window before we walked in.
We went directly back to the yarn department. Most of the group was already there, and I put my arm around her shoulder as I prepared to introduce her.
“Everyone, this is Thursday,” I said. I was about to add a last name, but floundered. Should I say Kingsley or Fields? It wasn’t as if they needed her last name to know who she was. Thursday wasn’t exactly Mary in the first-name department. As they realized who she was, a wave of sucked-in air passed through the group, then they were tripping over themselves to pull out a chair for her.
A ripple of surprised ahs went through the group as she took out the cotton yarn and hook, along with a partially done washcloth. She’d moved up from coasters to washcloths as a way of trying out other stitches.
“She knows how to crochet,” Rhoda said to the others. I said I’d taught her, though then she had taken over learning on her own. I was just a touch jealous at how fast she’d progressed by herself.
“Dear, if you need any help, just ask me,” CeeCee said. Thursday nodded a thank-you, and then it registered with her who CeeCee was. Our resident actor and leader of the group lived for that moment when people recognized her. She instinctively patted her hair and struck a pose similar to the one in her publicity shot.
Rhoda interrupted by introducing the rest of the table. I added that Dinah was my best friend when Rhoda got to her. Adele’s lip quivered from across the table, but she didn’t say a word since Leonora was next to her. Rhoda described Leonora as a guest from San Diego, leaving out who she was visiting. The lip quiver was because Adele had said more
I’m not sure if it was curiosity or just nosiness, but I pulled over and we got out. When I got closer, I recognized the barrel-chested motor officer as Adele’s boyfriend, Eric Humphries. He was standing with the two uniforms from the cruiser talking to several women. Thursday was right behind me as we approached.
Eric recognized me and nodded a greeting. “Do you know anything about this?” he said pointing to what he called crocheted graffiti. Before I could even tell him I knew nothing, he was explaining to the women that my name was Molly Pink, and I was one of the Tarzana Hookers and knew all about crochet. The women sparked on the name and crochet comment and suddenly looked at me suspiciously.
“We don’t mind the hearts,” one of them said, pointing at the decorations dangling from the gazebo, “but
whoever
did that came onto the cultural center property when it was closed.”
“It’s trespassing, plain and simple,” one of the uniforms said.
“And it’s illegal, just like all that tagging with spray paint,” Eric said. I didn’t want to bring up that it was hardly as permanent as spray paint. A few snips of some scissors, and they could be rid of the yarn bombing if it bothered them. I suppose it was trespassing, but with the idea of adding a little color and fun. Eric pulled me aside.
“Is there anything you want to tell me about who is doing this?” he said. I knew what he was really asking. He knew what a fanatic Adele was about crochet and wondered if she was involved. There was something so proper about the tall motor officer. Not a scuff on his knee-high boots or the slightest wrinkle in his shirt. He was an absolute rule follower, which made him an odd pairing with Adele. I told him the absolute truth. I had no idea.
I explained the concept of yarn bombing to Thursday as we drove the rest of the way to the bookstore. Once I’d parked the car, she followed me around to the front, admiring the display in the window before we walked in.
We went directly back to the yarn department. Most of the group was already there, and I put my arm around her shoulder as I prepared to introduce her.
“Everyone, this is Thursday,” I said. I was about to add a last name, but floundered. Should I say Kingsley or Fields? It wasn’t as if they needed her last name to know who she was. Thursday wasn’t exactly Mary in the first-name department. As they realized who she was, a wave of sucked-in air passed through the group, then they were tripping over themselves to pull out a chair for her.
A ripple of surprised ahs went through the group as she took out the cotton yarn and hook, along with a partially done washcloth. She’d moved up from coasters to washcloths as a way of trying out other stitches.
“She knows how to crochet,” Rhoda said to the others. I said I’d taught her, though then she had taken over learning on her own. I was just a touch jealous at how fast she’d progressed by herself.
“Dear, if you need any help, just ask me,” CeeCee said. Thursday nodded a thank-you, and then it registered with her who CeeCee was. Our resident actor and leader of the group lived for that moment when people recognized her. She instinctively patted her hair and struck a pose similar to the one in her publicity shot.
Rhoda interrupted by introducing the rest of the table. I added that Dinah was my best friend when Rhoda got to her. Adele’s lip quivered from across the table, but she didn’t say a word since Leonora was next to her. Rhoda described Leonora as a guest from San Diego, leaving out who she was visiting. The lip quiver was because Adele had said more
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