Right now, when I should be destroying my Sunday morning by diving in to a writing assignment (When. Will. It. Ever. End.), I’m instead rousting around in my stashes of amazing girly stuff for anything related to my obsession du jour: Knitting.
I used to take knitting lessons as a kid. But I don’t know that I ever finished anything, because my teacher was such a mega-meanster that she used to squeeze and pinch the dickens out of my poor little digits if I wasn’t holding the needles correctly. Grrr. Who does that? Why teach if you have zero, zippo, nada patience?
Anyway, let’s move on from that childhood trauma, shall we?
I don’t know why I’m newly smitten with knitting again, but I totes am. Maybe it has to do with those geeky Seaside Knitters mysteries I read. One reason I love those books so much is that they’re set in a New England coastal town, not unlike the gorge one I moved to when I was 10, from the wide-open plains of Oklahoma.
(And ironically, the section of the city we now live in is also called Newport. Love that. It even has a mini marina with sailboats and yachts. So cute.)
But enough with the geography.
Here’s what I’ve happily hoarded in recent years, mostly from the giveaway table at Cookie, which was such a wacky assemblage of tot stuff and mommy stuff that both the Wee Lass and I scored, big-time. She got a Disney Princess talking throne chair that my super-chic design-snob colleagues wouldn’t touch with a 90-foot pole, and I got all this learn-to-knit gear.
Like the awesome DVD pictured here, and two beginner kits that are really aimed at 9 year-olds:
Plus I think I already told you about the beauteous Chicks With Sticks book I recently nabbed, right? I’m on a tear.
Of course, on Friday night, as I was parked on the couch in our family room – yummy glass of sparkling rosé at the ready and a DVRd episode of Real Housewives of New York flickering in the background (can we sidebar for a sec and discuss what a psychotic b—-h LuAnn is being this season???), I couldn’t for the life of me remember how to cast on.
You can’t knit if you can’t cast on. I had to turn off the TV, put down the pink bubbly and focus. And I still couldn’t do it. So this evening, after I finish my work and start packing for our upcoming trip to America’s heartland, I’m gonna pop this DVD in and try to figure out the whole casting-on business.