My little sister has become a knitter – or is on her way to doing so (it is amazing what a knitted beer bottle pattern and a ball winder can do). I present to you her reflections on the happy event:
Oh sheep. So often over looked. So oft taken for granted. It should not be so, for the fluff which adorns their exterior (I was going to be poetic and put an adjective like ‘fanciful’ before that…but I’m not really sure that is a good way to describe the appearance of a sheep…) is used to supply the world with wool which is the cause of countless minor (almost not worth mentioning) crimes never being committed simply due to the fact that the people who might otherwise have been lying about idle were knitting.
As I type this I have to satisfy my self with only gazing longingly at the piece of work which I cast to the ground in order to write this note instead of picking it up and knitting ‘just one more row’. Indeed, it was a challenge simply to begin this piece in the first place as when I sat in front of my computer I took up my knitting and said to myself “well, just one row…” and then, while engaged in said row, another part of me replied “just finish this section leah…you know you want to….” And I did.
For those of you who thought you knew me and by reading this are becoming befuddled, don’t worry, I have not been a closet knitter, I took up the art less than 24 hours ago when Kate showed me a book that had some patterns that peaked my interest. After a hurried run to Michaels we sat in the basement, the credits of Shooter bursting to run as it lay paused and neglected on the screen while Kate taught me how to knit and purl my way through a few rows.
Of course, being me, I picked a pattern which was made entirely of the world’s thickest thread. It’s a major character flaw of mine to never want to do anything easy while being incredibly lazy (it might be the reason why I rarely seem to finish anything). So I sat on the very edge of my seat painstakingly inserting the needle and wrapping the yarn around, pulling it out and exclaiming my dismay at having dropped a stitch. On the purl rows I repeated over and over and over again “over under, over under, over under…” My expression was one of determined anguish, but soon I saw my piece beginning to take shape. Maybe, just maybe, it’s all worth it. And probably, just probably, I have joined the ranks of those whose nicotine is knitting.
And now I have a question – should I do 1 scarf in two shades of brown (or rather taupe and dark taupe…) and 1 in blue and grey, or should I do grey and one of the taupes and blue and the other…