Bargain Advocate: New frugal skill means less time wasted

As Little Roy and I continue to plow (pun intended) through the Little House on the Prairie book series, I find myself increasingly inspired by the character of Ma.

Though her lines are relatively few and comprised largely of the phrases, “Yes, Charles,” “No, Charles,” “Oh, Charles!” and “All’s well that ends well, Charles,” Caroline Ingalls’ actions speak volumes about work ethic and the pioneer life, more than a few of which we can apply to our pursuit of thriftiness in the tech-centric universe of 2015.

I was particularly struck recently about the way Ma spends her “downtime,” when she’s not making volleyballs out of pig’s bladders or pies out of green pumpkins or churning butter or making sugar or doing the long list of things Mas did back then.

Ma didn’t sit in her rocking chair by the cookstove with her Macbook, browsing her favorite biscuit recipes on Pinterest or checking Facebook for the latest news with her folks in the Big Woods, or even live tweeting the latest blizzard. (“Another #whiteout. Gotta bring in more from the #woodpile! Time for #beansoup. #Ugh.”)

Nope. Caroline Ingalls knitted.

In the past, the craft of knitting has been a running joke in our family, particularly with my brother, who in moments of boredom would frequently remark, “So what are we going to do, sit here and knit?” ...as if knitting is just as easy as twiddling your thumbs or clicking the “Like” button on a clever status update.

But one night not long ago, I was frustrated with myself for wasting so many hours poring over my Facebook newsfeed and decided I should get a hobby.

Guess what I thought of?

Yes. Knitting.

So around 10 p.m. the next evening while Mr. Roy was working to hone his skills in one of his own personal hobbies — video games — I hopped onto YouTube and searched for “how to knit.”

I clicked on a video of this very endearing, perky, artsy lady who from her introduction made knitting sound like a slam dunk and like I was her BFF.

I watched it for the first three minutes and 14 seconds until my mind was exploding with possibilities: Mittens? Scarves? Blankets? DIY Christmas gifts? A treasure trove of frugality!

I set my jaw and determined that I, the Bargain Advocate, was going make Caroline Ingalls proud.

At that moment I remembered my grandmother’s knitting needles and scraps of yarn getting musty in a tote in our attic. I dashed upstairs, dug them out and replayed the video. I got off to a great start tying a slipknot, but it wasn’t long before I was mentally grumbling at my brother for dismissing knitting as a thing you just sit around and do when there’s nothing better going on.

Thank goodness that on YouTube you can back up videos as many times as you need to, because if this were an actual, live-and-in-person knitting class I’m sure the lady in the video would be significantly less perky and endearing.

Ma would probably just sigh and say, “Oh, Charles.”

Eventually I sort-of-kind-of got the hang of it, enough that I created a few crooked rows that looked like they may have been cobbled together by a first-grader who was half-distracted by an episode of Sesame Street.

For some reason my rows grew by one stitch every time, so that eventually the 15 stitches I’d begun with ballooned (in number and shape) to twice that many. But as I looked at it, I felt a couple things: First, pride that I’d really, truly knit something, as knobby and crooked as it was.

Secondly, that the misshapen, fibrous mass colored white at the top, red in the middle and rainbow at the bottom could — with a little ribbon and some stitching — be turned into an apron for a baby doll.

And that second thought reminded me of something Caroline Ingalls would think: Make the best of it.

After all, Ma was able to find the silver lining even after grasshoppers ate the whole wheat crop and the house and stove hadn’t been paid for. My silver lining was that I’d learned to do something new and now have a productive way to spend naptimes, bedtimes and downtimes — when I’m not writing this column, of course — that results in something more tangible than those dubious “likes.”

I’d rather have a new sweater than a collection of pixels, and I’m pretty sure Ma would agree.

If you have insight about a frugal living topic or an idea for a future column, please email me at amroy@nncogannett.com. I’d love to hear from you!

Happy saving,

Abbey