My
With my undying gratitude to Andi for pushing/coaxing/cheering me on --- this is what I have been doing...
Knitting socks!
It has been slooooooooooooooooooooooooooow going. And I do mean s.l.o.w.
I don't know if it is because I am so used to a hook in my hand and watching each crocheted stitch fall away neatly onto a row, but when I see all of those stitches that I have just knit or purled held captive on a needle w/o ever being let off ---- well, for some reason (yes, you can insert the word crazy here) the stitches feel trapped to me.
And then when I make a mistake in these socks (and there have been a lot of them) I can't for the life of me figure out how to fix the mistake. A mistake in crochet is easily fixable --- but holey moley, a mistake in knitting is unintelligable for me. Completely scratch-my-head-what-in-the-heck-do-I-do-now?! feeling.
But the yarn is gorgeous. Not only in color but also the feeling of it in my fingers is yarn therapy. Truly.
The directions are clear & concise. Oh, so easy for the average Knitting Joe. But for me? I feel as if I am learning a new language.
And it doesn't help that perimenopause is knocking at my door. And that is door I do.not.want.to.open. "Wrong house!" I seriously want to yell.
My
So much for supportive sisters (ahem.) and I'll just get my therapy in the form of yarn, thank you.



























