Knitting

I've decided to give knitting another try.

In the past I've been unable to stick with it because knitting is hard and I don't do anything unless it comes really easily and makes people think I'm all that (is the phrase "all that" still a thing?)

But it's turned cold here in Toronto and I've got a cat and a fireplace and it is a universal truth that all middle aged women with fireplaces and cats MUST knit. It's kind of a biological imperative. Like sex might be for some people.

I have many accomplished knitters in my life, including (but not limited to) my Mom,  Megan, Dianna, Lori, Marsha, etc. My friends Ryan and Channing are also amazing knitters, but they are not middle aged women, so they are kinda ruining my theory. Stupid Ryan and Channing.

Some of my earliest memories of childhood are watching my mom knitting; counting stitches, the click of the needles, winding yarn into a ball while my dad held the hank up in two hands, like a supplicant, or like a man begging for his bachelorhood back.

I figured the knitting gene must have skipped a generation and instead of that skill I was blessed with an extremely "low tolerance for frustration".  My knitting projects were only deemed "finished" when I had dissolved into tears and had moved on to Dip-a-Flower.

But here I am again, facing the needles. Why now?

Because my current needlepoint project has about eleventy billion miles of background and I'm giving it a rest for now.

So, all excited about trying to outsmart my tantrum gene, I trundled off to The Purple Purl to get myself some yarn.

 I was given balls of fuzz and a pattern and sent on my way. I was going to make mittens, dammit, as my mom says mittens are good things to learn on because they cover a lot of different techniques that are common in knitting.

When I got home and got set up to start my project I realized that there was one key difference between my previous stabs at knitting and my current foray:

Youtube. (you thought I was going to say "booze", right?)

Whereas before I had to count on the patience of others to teach me, now I could just search "how to knit ribbing" or "knitting how to decrease". And up would pop several videos of English ladies with perfectly manicured nails showing me how to do exactly what I needed to do.

And now, instead of having to soldier through a rage of frustration, I could just put-the-knitting-down-and-walk-away. Before, if I'd had someone teaching me, I'd have to show at least a pretence of stick-to-it-iveness. Youtube enables my short attention span and quick draw whininess.

I abandoned the mittens after 6 attempts. 

I thought I'd try making this adorable little kitten:

You can get the pattern HERE!

This is how it turned out:

So I started a a scarf pattern that seemed straight forward. This is what a shawl version of it looks like:

You can get the pattern HERE!

This is how it turned out:

I thought maybe I'd just try some straight knitting. You know, like a washcloth? 

I found a pattern called The Idiot's Dishcloth. Perfect, I think to self. This is how it's supposed to look:

You can get the pattern HERE!

This is how it turned out.

And yet I keep trying.

Now I am doing a basic knit knit knit til the freaking end of time scarf.

We'll see how long I last before I totally lose my nut.

Yarn

I love yarn.

I come by this love honestly. My mother also loves yarn and instilled in me a respect for yarn that borders on worship.

My mother is a knitter and crocheter, while I am a needlepointer. She, at one time, had about 15 garbage bags full of wool in our front porch/storage room. Most of it was beige, which she would buy in bulk if she found it on sale, in case she "ever wanted to make another beige afghan". She had enough beige wool to make about 10 extra large afghans. She also had bags of crocheted granny squares, waiting to be sewn together into afghans. She had quantities of sock yarn, baby yarn, variegated yarn, cotton yarn, itchy wool yarn, acrylic yarn, novelty yarn.

When mom downsized to an apartment, she got rid of most her wool, which I think was more difficult for her than selling her house. Still, she has devoted a good portion of her present closet space to wool, and continues to buy it. It's a sickness. And she passed it on to me.

I love needlepointing. It's very calming. I used to work in a needlepoint store for the discount and just to be near all those scrummy colours of wool. When the shop closed down, my boss sold me, at very very deep discount, all of her remaining Paternayan Persian wool. Sometimes I take it out of the pillow cases I store it in, just to look at it.

I also love my pyjamas, as you can see from the photo. My pyjamas have cup cakes on them.

I have more wool on backorder from a couple different needlepoint outlets in order to finish a couple of large projects I've started. It's hard to get certain colours sometimes.

It's hard to be me.