If you read this post then you know that I almost started a crafting blog instead of doing this blog. I have an insane amount of crafty hobbies and thought it would be fun to write about them. But things didn’t go that way.
I was thinking about it today and realized, there is no reason why I can’t talk about my crafting on here too. I had intended my crafting blog to be funny, inappropriate, and full of cursing. So it actually isn’t too different from what I am already writing.
So here is what I hope is only the first installment of my crafting adventures:
When I was 10 my older sister, W, tried to teach me to knit. She had very little patience and I had very little skill. It was a terrible, terrible disaster. She had given me this beautiful skein of ice blue fine mohair to practice with.
Almost exactly this.
The good thing about really fine mohair is that you can fuck it up pretty badly and still not be able to notice. After hours of exhaustive practice I managed to knit up a square about 5in by 5in. I gave this to her for her birthday as a thank you for attempting to teach me. (Reason number 857 to not have kids: pretending to like their bullshit homemade gifts).
Yeah, this is what my life was missing.
I promptly completely forgot about knitting and never attempted it again.
Until I was 23. My brother and I had been hanging out, watching a bit of an old Dr. Who episode. We were both intrigued by his crazy scarf. My brother commented that he might like to own a scarf like that.
This is all your fault, Tom!
I went online and saw how expensive they were. I idiotically decided that I could learn to knit and make him one for much cheaper. So I went out and bought the cheapest yarn and needles that I could find to learn on.
That was my first mistake. The yarn was synthetic which I am slightly allergic to and very rough. I watched a few YouTube videos, checked a ridiculous quantity of books out of the library and dove in.
I could cast on like a pro and I remembered it being the one thing I had been good at when I was 10. I attempted to knit my first row. But I couldn’t.
I literally could not get my hands to get into the positions I was seeing in all these damn books and videos. The movements were so awkward and alien to me. I have never been known for my co-ordination, quite the opposite in fact, but this experience was beginning to make me suspect I was not even using the hands I had been born with.
Maybe I had been in some horrible accident that I subsequently blocked out. As a result of sad accident I had gotten a double hand transplant. And the doctors had stitched the hands on incorrectly and now there were some crossed tendons in there causing these major disruptions to my desired goals. It was infuriating.
I tried for weeks to knit the first row. I tried until I got blisters, then tender sores, then callouses. I tried until the yarn began to disintegrate from sheer monotonous usage. And every time it was so fucking awkward!
Sorry, I couldn’t find any pics of people that looked like they didn’t know what the fuck they were doing.
I imagine this is how babies must feel right before they learn to talk. They know what the noises are that they need to make, they just can’t make them in the right order to be intelligible to anyone.
One day I sat down and picked up the needles and I felt sort of comfortable with them in my hands. I cautiously tried to knit. I didn’t want to get my hopes up too much after weeks of crushing disappointment. To be honest, it wasn’t even about the scarf anymore. I was going to knit dammit! I didn’t care if it killed me. (What a way to die, in some yarn induced tragedy).
I knitted a row. And then another. And then another. I was a knitting fool!
I knitted back and forth, row after row, until I created what was undoubtedly the most sorry looking scarf ever created. But it was done. And then I had to learn to bind off.
I had been dreading this part so much. Knitting takes hours and hours of work. Dropping a single stitch can ruin the whole piece. But I knew I had to face my fears. I couldn’t call someone to help me every time I wanted to bind off a project. I had to face this on my own.
I actually did an okay job. I had finished my first knitting project. Next I tried out a new stitch and made myself a scarf. It looked exactly how I had intended it to. I was ready to knit my Tom Baker scarf for my brother, T.
I don’t want any of you to think I am some fabulous knitter at this point in my life. I enjoy knitting. It is very relaxing for me. Like meditating. I can knit for hours without scrutinizing every stitch.
But I also have never progressed beyond scarves, hats, cowls, purses, and bathmats. They are lovely gorgeous items. But you probably won’t see me giving away any socks or sweaters to my loved ones. Because if I invest that much time in something that complicated it will be for myself!
Plus, every knitter knows about the knitter curse. Never knit something for a friend or significant other. It will be the death knell of the relationship. (Hey, I don’t make the rules).