Because La Grumperina is one of my favorite Boston nerds and because I am especially grumpy today…
1. I am an excellent finisher, but not an excellent completer. I thank the woman who taught me to knit for the finishing skills. That and the insistence that I could and WOULD learn to fix problems. Her philosophy, which is now mine: “If you’re going to spend all that time knitting a garment why the heck would you stop short at the finishing, or leave a mistake. You will have wasted your time.” I am first to admit this is a delicate balance between mania and practicality. However, good finishing skills are NOT hard to acquire and they make a HUGE difference in the finished product.
2. Cheap acrylic sweaters, the kind that squeak when you touch them, make my skin crawl. Debbie had one at her trunk show and I almost lost my cookies. That thing and those damn freaky ass knitted clowns. That woman is going to be the end of me.
3. I have been knitting for 2.5 years. In this time I have never finished (I’ve started) a lace project, a fair-isle project, an intarsia project, or anything else that is too complicated. While I consider myself a decent knitter. I just cannot find the concentration to conquer these mountains. See #4
4. I am a perfectionist. In fact, I am actually shocked I am a knitter. I have few hobbies because I hate failing and I am too impatient to give myself time to learn how to do something well, and if I can’t do something well (or perfect) then I don’t want to do it at all. It took me a few months to get to the point where knitting “clicked”. The fact that I kept at it is nothing short of a minor miracle. See #3
5. I throw with my right hand. When I do this I fully let go of the right needle and prop it with one of my left fingers. This is horribly inefficient yet I feel as though I have decent speed and control. Furthermore, it is hard wired and trying to change makes my brain feel like I am asking it to move inanimate objects.
6. I love wool. I mean wool wool. Sweaters made with scratchy, warm, dense wool are my favorites. Chalk it up to all those teenage years spent in my dad’s Woolrich sweaters.
7. I am obsessed with the little things. I realized this at a baby shower where the mother was gifted with 800 knitted objects. Seriously, the woman had a family of knitters. While this was awesome and inspiring it made my dinky little sweater seem like small beans. From that point forward I spent more time on the little things….packaging, personalized details, etc. Moving the gift from the “grandma knit me this” pile to the “oh-la-la, I came from a fancy pants boutique” pile.
8. I am the only person alive in my family, extended and immediate, that knits. My grandmother was a knitter. I have a sweater she made for herself (which I hope to share someday), a swatch she knit with her gauge notes pinned to it, and her little plastic box filled with notions and DPNS. My aunt (her daughter-in-law) has her needles. When you open the box the smell of her end table drawer (where she kept the box) fills the air. I am considering vacuum packing this smell so as to not loose it or forget it. Man, I cannot even begin to tell you how much I miss her, especially now. She was my soul-mate and my biggest fan. I wish she was still here.
9. I believe in the power of a knitted object. One that either me or someone else knit (as long as they did it while they were “present” and not unaware). I am not a hokey sentimental person but this force I cannot deny. Some may remember my story of fixing my computer while dressed in items that I had knit. I did this to gain confidence. I am thinking of knitting something to bring with me while I’m in labor.
10. I can’t think of another one….so I’ll tell you a none knitterly thing about me…. I yelled at a bus driver this morning! My commute is done via Public Transportation in Boston. While most mornings, at best, this is an exercise in patience and a grand sense of humor this morning was beyond my capacity to cope. I can usually deal with anything and everything with an understanding that people are people and, in most everyday cases, they are self-centered and tunnel-visioned. However, this morning my coping skills took off for Tahiti and left me screaming at a bus driver from the side of the road through the door that he had just shut in my face without warning because he was a moron and decided that the 800 people on his bus was enough and 801 might just throw him off or something. Asshat. It was not pretty. I do not yell at bus drivers. I am clearly being inhabited by an alien. Please send divine peace.