Back in the day when I lived at home with my parents, we arrived everywhere very early. We were usually one of the first to arrive at church, recitals, concerts, meetings - just about anywhere. The only ones that I remember ever beating us was the janitor and some lone female with a bag full of yarn, knitting or crocheting in quiet. I would think to myself, "that is just so sad", as I would try to sit still but would find myself twitching and jumping up and down a handful of times to get a drink of water, go to the bathroom, anything to make the time pass until others arrived. (Before proceeding any further, I would like to extend an apology to every one of these women who I judged as, err, pathetic. I so now get it.)
I don't know when I started wanting to knit. I think maybe it began when a family friend gave me a knitted sweater and bonnet as a present for my first child. Her sister had knit it and it was gorgeous. No scratchy, cheap, yarn for my baby, folks! The yarn was soft, the color a beautiful pale pink, and the stitching was so delicate and lovely. Maybe it was then I thought, "I would love to be able to create something like that." More babies came, and more beautiful sweater and bonnet sets were generously given to me by our family friend, Sue. At one point I had four children age six and under. Any thoughts of knitting were fleeting and then forgotten.
A year ago we went to visit my husband's family in Michigan. One of my sisters-in-law told me that she had learned to knit off YouTube. My first thought was, "jealous!" I got home and watched one video clip and thought, "crazy!" Yet the desire to knit didn't go away, it only increased. Six weeks ago we again went back to Michigan to see my husband's family. We went to the family cottage for a few days. I have learned that no visit to the cottage is really complete without driving up to Houghton Lake and going to Arnie's, an arts and crafts store. My husband, Jim, bought a coloring book of military airplanes (Crayolatherapy he now calls it), and I finally bought some knitting supplies. I asked one of the employees what I needed as an absolute beginner. I walked out of there with lilac-colored yarn, size 10 needles, and a laminated trifold pamphlet by a company that teaches everything from anatomy to alegebra in the same succinct way.
We got back to the cottage and I was nervously optimistic. (Reading directions is not my forte. I knew a guy in grad school who once bought an unassembled bike from a store to go on a bicycle date with a girl. He never once looked at the directions and when he got done he had half of the nuts and bolts left. That about describes me and my relationship with written directions, my friends. This is what makes for what I shall call "All-Terrain Knitting". It is bumpy and can get kind of hairy at times.) I pulled out my supplies and began to labor over the written directions. I figured out the slipknot and was working so hard to cast on. I felt like a kindergartner being asked to write cursive with chunky crayons. I literally had my tongue sticking out the side of my mouth in concentration. I was able to get to step 6 and then...nothing. It made not a lick of sense and I was wishing that Monk's brother, Ambrose, would've written the directions. My not-too-quiet muttering was probably getting a bit annoying and it was at this point that my mother-in-law softly walked over and asked to see the pamphlet. She glanced at the directions and pronounced, "These don't make any sense. Here, let me show you." (What??? She knits???) She patiently clickety-clacked those needles and showed me how to do it. I then proceeded to cast on with two needles and knit a row or two. Here is a picture of my first attempt.
Well, now, I must be pretty determined to learn to knit if I looked at that attempt and thought, "not bad, let's keep going!"
Jim asked me at one point what do I love about knitting? (I think he may have asked this one Sunday after I knit for so long that my hands cramped to the point of physical pain and I could barely move my fingers). I've thought about that off and on over the past few weeks. I think the main reason is that it gives me a creative outlet that fits into this season of my life. When I was single and in graduate school, my friend, Julie, taught me how to collage. I was instantly enamoured. She and I would get together on a Sunday afternoon and collage while the NFL played in the background and we ate Peanut M&Ms and Chanello's breadsticks. We would spread our magazines out and collage for hours and hours. At first, I called it my art therapy but my cousin, Tanner, said to me one time, "don't be afraid to call it art, Jen." I had never thought of it as art because I never saw myself as artistic because that word had such a narrow definition in elementary school. If you could draw well then you were artistic. Well, that captured maybe 5% of my class. The rest of us were sunk. I have come a long way and I now realize that creativity and artistry can take a lot of forms. During my late 20s it took the form of collage.
Then I had kids. Now, first of all I want you to know that I love my kids dearly. Secondly, it almost goes without saying that at this time in my life, I don't have blocks of hours at a time to spread out and collage. I haven't had that for years. What I have come to realize, though, is that I still desperately need to create something beautiful. Knitting allows me to do that. I am able to sit down in five or ten minute increments (yes, sometimes it is that small) and I am able to knit a row or two and I am able to see instantly the fruit of my labor. (I won't kid you, it is also a great way to positively channel nervous energy - "I'm sorry, did you say you are running behind and I may have to wait an extra hour for my appointment? No problem, my pleasure, I have my knitting with me!")
So here I am, a beginner knitter, who is largely teaching herself how to knit. I am learning by reading directions (ugh), watching YouTube (please Ms. Instructor Person, make your hands stay in camera view while teaching a stitch), and asking fellow knitters with much more experience than I (already I give my thanks to Jan, Kathnelle, Jennifer, Kim, and Emily). Not unlike Julie Powell who set out to cook through Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, I have set a goal to master (okay, get proficient at or at the very least attempt) an encyclopedia of stitch patterns, roughly 400 or so, but without the pressure of putting a time limit on it. I will be sharing lots of pictures - the good, the bad, and the ugly. I will also be sharing my love of knitting as I muscle my way through stiff fingers and undecipherable directions. Please join me in my creative adventure!