The recipe I’m making up goes something like this:
*Knit approx what – 5 or 6 rows (? eyeball it)
Next row double wrap the needle on each stitch
When knitting the next row drop the extra stitch
Knit a row, repeat double wrap row
Knit 5 or 6 normal rows
When knitting the next row triple wrap the needle
Next row, drop the extra two stitches
Knit 5 or 6 rows…lather, rinse, repeat from *

Still in beta and I’m on the dang wait list, but I’m super stoked to get out there and play and share pictures of my stash and my projects and steal ideas from brainiac knitters like Missy Gia. Thanks to my knitting teacher for telling me about it months ago, and the always lovely Megan for reminding me.

I lurvez me some knittin’. I also love sleep. Mmmmm. Sleeep.

Over the next three weeks I’ll be:
~ Making a hat (which requires measuring and math, thank you) with flecking (aka stranding) for my wee noggin
~ Creating cables
~ Making lace

The best part? I didn’t even cry during the lesson.

In this picture I’m sitting on a blanket my Auntie Ellie (aka Sister Eleanor) made for me before our relocation to Alaska when I was six months old. That blanket, my hospital bracelet and a pacifier with a lamb head on it that’s corroded (no doubt from being dipped in Jim Beam) are the few items I have that lend any clues to my early years. For the rest I rely on my older sister and my mothers’ sister Moie.

When your folks pass away before you’re old enough to care about your heritage or ask about your history, homework becomes a part of your lifestyle.

My friend Joanne had a baby a few weeks ago and I’m making wee Nico a blanket all the while admiring my own baby blanket that’s still on hand though well worn with yarn nearly fused together after 34 years. I love that I can see where Ellie changed skeins because the ends have come untucked. I love that I can now appreciate the effort she put into that cotton square of my youth by looking at the various stitches and the yarn color changes.

And I have to wonder about nature versus nurture and why I picked up knitting and love it so much. Is it in my DNA? Is cabling for a fisherman’s sweater right there next to the tag that tells my eyes to be green/grey/blue depending on my mood/clothes/the weather? Does the same nature v nature explain why I have an inexplicable contentedness when lifting heavy objects and doing manual labor despite the fact that I’m an office jockey? Or is it possible that just doing something that varies from the norm tricks me in to thinking it feels right and that my old boss Jack was right in saying I’m a restless soul?

I might not have answers, but I have my blanket.

Point being: I am a supreme badass now armed with the skills needed to make socks and beanies or jam you in the eye with a needle. Either way.

Hoppy Easta’, mah babies.