I admit to having knitted sweaters before, my favorites being the several that I have knitted from many colors of yarn. I loved looking at the kind of designs. But I am not a knitter; I do not belong to this collective of women who explore the properties of the yarn, pull balls of new acquisitions to indicate the visitors who arrive there with the door and knit minor squares to check the color, the gauge and the stitches of a brand new sample. I do not belong to this small independent subculture of knitters.
Now my Buddy Jennie is a knitter. She, her sisters, and knitting buddies will walk a hundred miles to a certain yarn store, discuss which yarns are available in which stores, and search the online world for the most progressive patterns. She has developed jerseys in NASCAR races and hockey games, and at least one particular family member can count on a hand-knitted Jennie Every Christmas sweater. Potentially, my favorite psychological snapshot of Jennie and her favorite vocation is when she went to greet her former sister-in-law Ann (still a very good friend and knitting friend), who used a horse earlier. Ann stopped to talk and Jennie pulled out her newest knitting project to point out that Ann the stitches as well as the mare Ann was leading turned her head close to and, swear to God, watched the knitting. of Jennie as Jennie showed it to Ann.
I’ll probably never be a knitter like Jennie, but I admit staying curious when she tells me about a new order of yarn she’s designed, and I catch myself asking to start seeing things after I Pick a visit at. And that I admit I was tempted to choose my own knitting needles until I kept in mind the disastrous sleeves, far too long, too thin and far too small, that I have been responsible for producing for the past decades. . Then I just admire the gorgeous hues and textures in Jennie’s wool stash and watch the designs form as we sit and chat, as she knits a storm.