Sunday, August 14, 2005

38th Times a Charm

I can see myself. I'm 15, sitting on a sofa at the foot of the stairs in the family room. My mother is showing me, for the 10th (ok, maybe 20th) time how to knit. She knits, my Grandmother knits...her mother was a knitter. I seem to have it this time, she is watching...I am knitting. The phone rings, she goes upstairs to take the call...cut to 10 minutes later, Mom descending the stairs sees a sad little lump of white knotted yarn lying helplessly on the floor, 2 metal sticks coming out of it at violent acute looking...raving mad disappointed in my failed attempt again at knitting. I feel the weight of generations of knitters. Good news, I'm 15, I'm over the disappointment.

There were many many of these attempts in my life. I am a gluton for punishment, my mother is an eternal optomist. I firmly believe that each time we sat down with the intent of me learning to knit, my mother truly believed I'd get it that time. Gotta love Mom. About 18 months ago, I had the urge again, I must knit. I convinced a friend of mine she should learn too, and my Mom agreed to teach us of course, knowing we'd 'pick it right up.' So, I went out and bought lush yarn, wonderful wooden sticks and a pattern for a scarf (which now makes me giggle...scarf pattern). We sat in the living room and I'd say in about 10 minutes I was knitting. That my friends is the perfectly unromantic ending to this story. I GOT it. Like all of a sudden a switch went off in my brain and it would receive knitting information. My mother said, 'see I knew you could do it' like the previous 37 attempts hadn't happened. At the age of 38, I was a knitter and there was no looking back.

I made scarves like a madwoman that proud that I could make a fuzzy rectangle. I could not only make a fuzzy rectangle, but I could do it with two strands of yarn at the same time. Whoa, check me out. Now I'm making dishcloths, SOCKS, and have started a sweater...

The moral of the story, Mom's always right and 38th times a charm...


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