I used to groan every time The Boy dragged me along to the hardware store. Now I race to the car at the mere suggestion, secretly hoping he needs lumber. His theory is that lumber has to be carefully inspected. That takes time.

Crocheting with alternative materials has changed the way that I look at the world: Cruising hardware store aisles is now exciting. I slowly scan every shelf and pick up anything that looks pliable or can be cut into strips. My last foray netted a huge spool of plastic-coated wire, the kind used for phone hookups. On sale! The coating is a dull ugly gray, but nothing a bunch of beads won’t spice up.

Last night I tried stitching with it. I’m disappointed. The wire is stiffer than I thought it would be. The stitches are big and ugly. Just a couple of rows were enough to slow me down. I stared at the small stitched piece—something that usually fires me up— and got … nothing. I let my younger dog run away with it.

Now I’m working with prettier, more pliable copper and (surprise!) strings of Christmas lights.