Join me in Snarkville

Being snarky is the only thing that makes this place enjoyable. After all, if you can't laugh at others, how do you feel superior?

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Location: Snarkville, Left Coast

Treat me no differently than you would any Queen. I rule my Snarky kingdom with some kind of dignity, but I refuse to add grace. I rule with my Prince of a husband (he can't be King, since he married into his royal title) and my son the Duke of Snarkville.

Monday, May 08, 2006

A Memory Stirs

I have been thinking about a year ago all day -- well since I got the e-mail from my secret pal. What has dawned on me is that I've never actually shared the FULL story of my Knitterly birth. It is long, so I'd suggest a cup of coffee or tea -- perhaps a stiff drink.

I think my becoming a knitter had stages, so let's look at them closely.

Admiration:
This is the stage that began long ago. This is where it dawned on me that there is truly something special about knits and handknits in particular. I have had a sweater fetish since living in SnarkBeach (Sidenote: I love the Prince to a fault -- but the names he came up with for our past residences made me snort). SnarkBeach is well know far and wide for its hot days and humid lifestyle. Yet, I wore sweater -- wool sweaters.
I would lust over beautiful Arans and dream of someday owning one. Now, the Queen Mum once crocheted -- she made an afghan with 3-D flowers. I have delightful memories of that thing, even if I believe it was made in Red Heart Super Saver. Anyway, I was in awe of all knits.

Craftiness Buds:
Because no one in my family knitted, I looked everywhere to fulfill my craft desire. I cross stitched for a bit, I scrap booked for a little while, I even made hand crafted miniature teddy bears. The Queen Mum always said I was looking for "MY" thing, but couldn't find it. I loved the beauty of cross stitch, but I hated following the pattern -- I always made too many mistakes, plus it is way too slow going. Scrapbooking was tough -- as I'm never sure what story these photos tell and my family takes too many photo -- good photos --- to pick out 4 per page. I loved the bears, but I'm a horrible sewer --- are you seeing my problem here?

Knitting may be an Answer:
My desire to knit began the year the Prince and I married. I worked in a craft store for a few extra bucks and I liked the idea of knitting. There was something magical about watching women make fabric out of string with pointy sticks. I knew basically how a crochet hook worked, but how in the world did stitches and and fabric form off those knitting needles. I had asked a couple of people to teach me, but time and my drive wasn't there.
Then, last year -- actually last year and a few months, I was working hard to plan a major event in the mountains. I needed some people to help and put a call into KnitNik's husband. We worked out our things -- then about a week before the event, I get an e-mail:
Do you know if anyone knits? My wife is really into knitting and she will be bored, but might like to meet a few people.
Ok, so I put a call out to the people and no one seemed all that interested, I mean seriously interested. So, I casually mentioned that I always wanted to knit. He jumped on it like a trampolene. No problem, Niki told me to get yarn I liked and needles to match. No problem. Seven WHOLE dollars later, I left Michael's with a ball of boucle in shades of green (see first knitted blob) and needles. I think she even laughed at me that I hadn't gone with something smooth.

Then I Learn:
Niki sat down with me at like 3pm one afternoon. Her kids were tasked with watching Duke and she began. Do this, do that. Pretty simple. I couldn't see a single stitch I was making. The green was horid. Calmly, she reaches in her bag and pulls out a ball of smooth red yarn, thick yarn, and says try this. CLICK. Knit stitches. I knitted for maybe 5 or 7 rows and said, NEXT. (I needed more) She taught me to purl. In doing that, I stockingette'd for a bit. Then I ribbed. It was the rib that worried me. I had flashbacks to counted cross stitch where my count was always off. I felt a little heat rise. Then Niki taught me the most important lesson I would learn that day: TINK.

Niki's calm teaching, fun way and instant kinship spurred me on. I frankly went back to my cabin that night thinking that I'd put those needles down and move on. Here I'd made another person happy and I knew "how" to knit. But really, I don't have time. I got bored waiting for something at somepoint and I picked up the green yarn and I tried to re-create what I'd done. It flew off the needles that time and I thought...hmmmm.

Despite making the blob and THREE handbags, I still didn't purl correctly until August when I saw Niki again. And I made more than one woman happy for a few hours -- I made a great friend. Yep, I'll keep her.

Now you know the WHOLE story.

1 Comments:

Anonymous niki said...

sniffle, sniffle, snuffle...Memories (cheesy music playing).

4:15 AM  

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