These knitting Olympics have been good for me.
First, I decided (at the absolute latest possible moment) to knit a lace shawl. I've never knit lace before, or a shawl, and in fact haven't knit a thing in years except plain old scarves from that fluffy yarn that doesn't show a mistake no matter what you do. Still, I jumped right in...and I've been having a grand time. And if all those holes aren't perfectly aligned when I block the thing, I'm not going to worry about it.
So, there I was in front of a big table of new, shiny, colorful knitting books at Beverly's yesterday with my friends Gerrie, Rita, Pat, and Janet. We'd gone out to lunch (crabcakes!) and were cruising. Beverly's is always good for cruising. There was a book that just lept into my hands, all scarves and shawls and pretty things... Janet passed me her 40% off coupon and I went for it. I'll finish that shawl one of these days (not Sunday, not in time for the closing ceremonies, I'm afraid, but one day) and I'll need something to do next.
On the way home, I stopped at my sister's house to say hi. As I drove up, I could see her sitting in her big comfy chair by the window, knitting. As we are often strangely in sync, I was not surprised to hear that she'd been at Beverly's earlier that day and couldn't resist some fun yarns for scarves.
I showed her my book, and we oohed and aahed over the patterns. Here we are, perimenopausal women who are hot more than cold, living in sunny California, and we're obsessed with knitting scarves. It's not about the scarves, it's the process, we agreed. (And, as Rita suggested back at Beverly's, we can always knit stuff and give it all away.)
"I'll be right back!" she announced, and dashed out of the room.
She returned with a large garbage bag that looked familiar.
"I've been saving this for you."
I knew what it was before I peered inside. It was yarn...piles of yarn I'd accumulated over 11 years of living and knitting in New Hampshire, when I was just 10 miles away from the most wonderful spinning, weaving, and yarn store I'd ever encountered. About a year ago, I did a major purge of stuff from my closets and garage, and my sister arrived and rummaged through the discard pile to see what I was giving up.
"You're getting rid of this yarn?" She looked at me with stark disbelief on her face.
"I'm not knitting anymore, so there's no point in keeping it around." I was in a ruthless mood.
Laura claimed it, stashed it in the back of HER closet...and returned it to me yesterday. She knew I'd want it again and regret getting rid of it. And she was right. I'm delighted to see it...and I'm itching to get at some lovely pink wool in there for the next scarf.
My sister knows me better than I know myself.
Now, back to knitting.