I was never the crafty girl.
Sure, my mother knitted, sewed, crocheted, embroidered, cross-stitched and quilted. My older sister learned to do all of those, too.
Me? The second daughter. I read a lot. My husband and I joke that I read well silently . . . without moving my lips.
Somehow, my older son turned out to be crafty, artistic and talented. A friend taught him to knit. He taught himself to crochet. He weaves. He draws. He creates items using a 3-D printer. He's the one who finally got me to embrace a craft. He taught me to loom knit more than three years ago. Since then, I've made numerous hats, scarves and afghans, which I donate to those in need or give as gifts.
After reading "Knitting Yarns," a collection of essays about knitting by various well-known authors, I'm seriously thinking of taking up actual knitting needles and learning to knit "properly."
Granted, not all of the essays in the book are positive odes to knitting. Some of the writers have serious knitting issues. Some don't actually knit, at all.
But the overall tenor is that knitting is a wonderful thing that will bring peace and creativity (and a major yarn stash, which I have already, so why not learn to knit on needles?).
Especially poignant was Joyce Maynard's "straw into gold" essay, a tribute to her hard-working and intelligent mother whose role was diminished, in some eyes, to "housewife" because of the sexist attitudes of the times. I don't want to spoil it for you, so I won't tell you about the part of the essay that made me cry.
In addition to the personal stories about learning to knit . . . or not , the book includes patterns for head wraps, coffee cozies and slipper socks, among others.
I have my size 10 needles and appropriate-weight yarn ready, and I have two people who've said they're willing to teach me. Am I finally going to learn to knit?