A Little History

I'd dabbled with the fiber arts off and on. It's the same old story -- experimented with a little crocheting here, would socially drop spin some yarn there... then when that got old I went for the hardcore: KNITTING. I didn't understand the draw for a long time... I would think, "Haha! Now there's a dork if I've ever seen one!" and keep walking. Now I am that dork.

See, it started rather innocently. In March I was attacked by a dog and my left hand and wrist were mauled at the clinic I was working at. Finding myself with endless hours of idle time (I wasn't allowed to return to work until late April), I decided to crochet a Spring top. Just something to pass the time. The added benefit was it helped break down the scar tissue in my wrist and hand. But then something happened... I saw a knitted pattern I HAD to make. No one else was going to do it for me. And so it began...

I go into withdrawals if I don't visit my LYS at least once a week (if you're not familiar with that term, it means Local Yarn Store -- told you I'm that dork). Jimmy Beans Wool Watcher is my crack. I amass patterns of greater and greater difficulty, then spend hours on end looking up techniques on youtube. It's pretty serious these days. If I don't have my knitting bag with me I feel naked. Nevermind that I slopped barbeque sauce on my shirt at lunch -- I'd rather spend the time it would take me to change digging through looking for a knitting needle so I won't be caught out without my well-equipped bag.

I'm pretty sure my stepkids (10 and 13) have forgotten what I look like -- I've always got my nose buried in some knitting magazine or book. My sweet husband is so supportive and will smile and make appropriate noises when I wake him at three A.M. -- "Look, honey, I figured out how to do a bowknot!" He doesn't even freak out when the yarn bill exceeds the grocery bill for the month.

In July I got a laceration in my right palm that damaged the tendons, chewed through all the muscle and cut the nerves. My index finger was rendered pretty much useless. My first thought, after I'd gotten over the nausea of watching the ER doctor sew it up was, "Oh, shit, how am I supposed to knit now?!?", not, "I wonder how long it will take to get function back in my finger?"

Addiction is always rough... no one could prove otherwise. But damn do my stepkids look cute in their bunny hats...