Sock
Fortunate for me we have the hippest knit shop located in my hometown of Gainesville, Fl., Hanks. Sharon & Lorena (the shops knitting divas) have extended their hearts and infinite wealth of knitting knowledge with me and others. With their help and the awesome teachers they have for the classes I have been able to take on projects (purses, pillows, dishcloths, baby blankets) and actually finish them.
At any given time of the day you will encounter one of them relaxing and chatting with the customers while knitting a pair of socks without so much as looking at the knit work. As if their hands have a mind of their own and already know the next stitch, no patterns to be seen, no sticky notes, just a smile and great conversation.
Usually they will be doing two at a time, I thought this to be particularly ambitions, as I have yet to even attempt a bootie. So I asked why do two? They tell me it is the easiest way not to get behind and you will always make two because you are doing them both at the same pace. Apparently people sometimes get frustrated and just give up, completing only one.
Socks are way above my skills, however I have a co-worker who has started a sock and I say sock because just yesterday she said that may be all she does, one. Giggling I said, “Well if that is all you get done I just happen to know a one-legged man”. Now do not get upset, I do and he is my husband and one sock is all he needs. Well after a good laugh she said I bet if you let the community at Ravelry know he could get the coolest of one- off socks ever made.
So…should you have only one sock and will never make the other and would like to donate it to a one-legged man in Gainesville, just let me knowJ

Knitting 101

I have recently taken up knitting, seems simple enough...

I want to go on the record as saying before I took up knitting I was a capable woman. Multitasking could have been my middle name. I could do the dishes, cook dinner, set the table, talk on the phone, get the laundry started, monitor what the kids were watching on TV, check my email, sweep the floors and let the dogs in and out countless times without so much as breaking a sweat.

At school I was known as the mom who could create anything from a few scraps of paper and some glue, you need and activity to keep 30 six years olds busy for an hour, I was your girl. If the class was celebrating anything I could come up with a cake, cookie or cupcake to fit the occasion. I was known as the crafty mom, the go to mom, the kids loved me and the teachers adored me.

I made Christmas presents, did clever photo shoots to keep the photo albums updated, handmade all the cards. I grew gourds so I could make birdhouses and then hand painted them, grew sunflowers so the birds would have plenty to eat . I made jams and canned peaches and made breads of all types. I had a yard that was beautifully landscaped and yes I worked full time. I was wonder mom!

So I go from all this to someone can no longer count. I swear knitting has made me an idiot. I have to have multiple sticky notes to help with placement, I cannot count, remember where I was last, what row, what stitch. When I finally complete a full row without a mistake I run around Hank’s doing a happy dance, this is what I have become, the happy dance girl at Hank’s, how did it come to this?

I can choose

There is so much about my fate that I cannot control, but other things do fall under my jurisdiction. There are certain lottery tickets I can buy, thereby increasing my odds of finding contentment. I can decide how I spend my time, whom I interact with, whom I share my body and life and money and energy with. I can select what I eat and read and study. I can choose how I’m going to regard unfortunate circumstances in my life-whether I will see them as curses or opportunities (and on the occasions when I can’t rise to the most optimistic viewpoint, because I’m feeling too damn sorry for myself, I can choose to keep trying to change my outlook). I can choose my words and the tone of voice in which I speak to others. And most of all, I can choose my thoughts. (Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert)

I read this and like a child discovering their feet for first time, I was shocked and amazed and giddy, yes giddy, I can choose. I'm 47 and I just realized this June 30, 2008.

This is where it begins.