My mom is a knitter. Just in the past couple years she’s managed to knit 2 purses, 3 scarves, 6 baby bibs, 25 baby blankets, 46 pairs of house shoes and 57 dish cloths. OK, I really don’t know how much she’s knitted but I know it’s a lot. She took to knitting quickly and her finished products always look great. Especially the uber-soft, uber-warm scarf she crafted for me. Love that thing.
Every Thursday night is “knitting night”. My mom, along with other ladies, head over to a friend’s house to knit together and catch up on the latest gossip of Grey’s Anatomy. I still think it’s funny my mom knows who Katherine Heigl is. This friend is named Bev. Bev’s the expert, the teacher, the hoot of the group. And since Bev lives a hop, a skip and a stone’s throw from my house, I occasionally go and hang out. I took the camera this last time.
I know this contraption looks completely confusing but I’ll tell you it’s a sock. A very big sock. I don’t know how she does it. Bev can knit her heart out while watching TV and sharing her profound wisdom with me. On this particular evening, between the life-lessons, I heard a little word slip because she missed a stitch. “What?! I messed up!”
One of these days I’m going to join them and actually learn how to knit. Or as Bev says it, “click needles”. I enjoy crafting but knitting and sewing kind of scare me. I have no reason why other than I’m afraid I wouldn’t like the finished product after I spent all of that time making something to wear, even if it’s just a blanket. And sewing has sharp needles and machines, the better to injure you with. Yep, better start with knitting needles.
These are magic hands, my friends. Bev has a stock room (more like a cabinet, but whatevs) filled with the treasures she’s made and intends to share with family and friends for the holidays. Different pieces, different colors, different patterns, different feels… I just need to start clicking my own damn needles.