Way back in March or April of last year, I learned how to knit. Heather M. was hosting a little knitting and tea party, and her friend Maggie was exceedingly patient in trying to teach me the ways of the needle.
Once I finally got the hang of it, which probably wasn't until the next day, I loved it. It was soothing. I could do that while sitting on the couch watching TV and it was oddly more relaxing to be doing something productive. But at the same time, I don't have much faith in myself to actually finish anything. And I am okay with that. Which, if you know me, is weird. I'm not trying to conquer it. I knit just to knit.
Last week I was hanging out with Heather, who is a little knit-crazy right now, and I realized that I missed it. And I thought I should pick it up again.
So today, I went and picked up my very own big fat wooden knitting needles and a new skein of yarn (it's wool!). And I figured out again how to cast on, and now I'm off.
Sitting on my couch/chaise, knitting, and watching Flight of the Conchords. And it's just nice.
I'm thankful I learned how to knit.