Tomorrow I fly out to California for a few days of non-stop knitting. I've signed up for 9 classes running from intriguing, Knitting with Wire! to the tricky tricky of using Japanese Stitch Dictionaries.
Way, way....WAY back in the day, I was on an extended visit with my maternal Grandmother Rose. While there are many things we had in common, there were a few that was hard for my grandmother to deal with.
1. loads of energy
3. couldnt sit still
4. nonstop talking
5. nonstop asking of questions
6-infinity. I think you get the picture
In an effort to hush me up and make me sit still Grandmother used a number of interesting techniques, some more successful than others. At long last she hit upon a winning combo, if my mind was fully engaged in learning/mastering something, the movement and chatter ceased, the trick was to make it interesting enough for me to stick to it. Making bread was one of them. Shelling peas, those tricky little bastards, rolling over the kitchen floor, gah! I'll get you in the bowl yet!
Then one day, grandmother sat me down and told me she was going to teach me how to knit!
I had no clue as to what she was talking about. She sat down in her rocker, pulled the wee stool in front of her, patted the top and I began watching her knit. After a bit, she pulled it all out, it was just like magic how it unraveled. I was amazed at the stitches unzipping. She cast a few stitches back onto the needles, handed it to me, and said, "There you go."
I struggled and fought with those needles! Grrrr! That stupid yarn! Now I was, ahem a wee bit on the stubborn side, and refused to give up. Grandmother had to keep pulling it out and starting me over again, once she had to take the scissors to the wool, it was in such a muddle.
However, I sat still. Unless things got into an extreme muddle, no words fell from my mouth. I was addicted to figuring out how to make this "knitting" thing work. The weekend came, and friday was always cake day. Due to her uncertain oven, it had wobbly feet, and my tendency to jump, hop and leap about, once the cake hit the oven I was banished to the yard. Usually I ran around the yard yelling like banshees were out and about with intent to kill. Not this friday, my knitting came with me to the picnic table under the apple tree. I sat cross legged on the table and fought with the yarn and needles.
Papa came home from the train yard, and came over to see if I was ok. "Are you ok baby girl? You're awful quiet there."
"Yeah Papa, I'm working on this knitting."
When grandmother passed away, she had only taught me the knit stitch. My Uncle Choo-Choo taught me the purl stitch, and my struggle with the needles and yarn continued. High school arrived and I forgot all about knitting, other things had filled my view, like BOYS and SEX!
Then I moved to Alaska, and there was nothing to do. No tv to watch, a library that had a very limited selection, I began to slowly go crazy. Until an older lady in the town told me I needed a hobby or I would go bat shit nuts in the long dark months of winter. I began to knit again, not always very successfully, but happily none the less.
My skills remained that of a beginner, until I found the most marvelous place to find knitting videos, youtube. And my skills improved like greased lightening, as did my love of knitting. I cant wait to get there and get knitting.
Ladies and Gentlemen, start your needles! And their...........off!
that is all, breckenridge.