Ok, so where is all this going? Good question. Well if you’re just joining us you will need to go read this first. Ok, ready to go? The one activity that has fascinated me for some time is knitting. Jacob’s grandmother knit beautifully and even gave me some of her original ‘learn to knit’ books. That’s like reading an instruction manual on how to defuse a bomb in Japanese, backwards, upside down, and slightly inebriated, i.e., not clear, see:
Apparently other than walking uphill both ways to school everyday the older generation also knew how to decipher complex images such as this. I do not.
So I had a couple of people show me how knit. (Karen H. your patience was on the level of sainthood) It went great, while I was with the people who knew what they were doing. I get home, I’m fraying yarn and hurling insults at my knitting needles. Then I take a knitting class with my friend Kelly A., who is also an amazing personal trainer who teaches a class I attend at my husband’s church. And by “attend” I mean I show up about twice a month, which is often enough to put my body into excruciating pain yet not actually increase my level of physical fitness. Luckily Kelly is the kind of trainer who doesn’t guilt trip you for the fact that instead of showing up for class you sat at home eating cookie dough and watched Gilmore Girls reruns. NOT THAT I EVER DO THAT.
So the knitting class is at this amazing store, River Knits, in Lafayette and it is filled with all this amazing yarn and neat looking tools and the ladies that work there are always working on projects that blow your mind, like making socks. Did you know you can KNIT SOCKS? Who does that? The amazing ladies at this store, that’s who. So the class is a blast and I feel really confident, I can totally do this. Totally.
Some how every time I ‘cast on’ 30 stitches and then start knitting, about 15 rows in I notice all of a sudden I now have 34 stitches. What? How is that even possible? Somehow I have defied the laws of knitting/physics. For you non-knitters out there, that’s like dividing your hair into three sections for a braid and suddenly halfway through the braid you have four sections. When I screw stuff up, I am thorough.
So Kelly meets me for a tutoring session and FINALLY, I get it. I really get it. I don’t just nod my head and pretend to get it so people don’t think I’m a moron, I get it. And so after what seems like an interminable amount of time I present to you my handiness:
So I told my Mom I knitted a dish rag and she asked if I could knit her a hat for her gargoyle. (LONG STORY, for another day.) To which I reply that this dish rag was a culmination of two years of effort and that a hat would probably take until, oh wait, I’m never going to knit a hat let alone for your gargoyle. I’m good staying with dish rags for a while, it’s something you can make and use that is really handy. And after all that is the theme of this post.
So I believe that since I’ve accomplished this I am now allowed to be an “official” Midwesterner. I’m sure this comes with much fanfare, probably a ceremony and party with cake. Mmmm cake.