A Knitter Is Born

Remember my co-worker, Alice? She decided to learn to knit. Fortunately, she knew someone who was willing to teach her. Two weeks ago she came to Westside Wednesday, where I put some pretty purple needles in her hands, gave her a ball of merino/yak handspun (I say start 'em with the good stuff early on.), and taught her the knitted cast on and then the knit stitch. After a few froggings and restarts, she had a pretty good little square knit.

She started carrying around the yarn and needles in her purse. She practiced everywhere. She became emotionally attached to that ball of merino/yak handspun. She bought bamboo needles. And she showed up at Westside Wednesday the next week, looped on painkillers from the dentist appointment she had that afternoon but determined to be a knitter. And her knitting improved: the tension was even, she remembered how to cast on, and she could knit and talk at the same time. Seeing as how she was so looped that she barely knew where she was, I thought it best to just let her knit and not tackle purling or anything else that night.

By last Friday, the merino/yak handspun was looking a little worse for the wear. Both from being frogged and reknit so many times, but mostly from being buried in her purse, so I gave her one of my knitting bags; one with hot pink and lime green polka dots because she loves those colors. I loaned her my copy of The Knitter's Bible and told her she could borrow it as long as she needed.

Today she told me that over the weekend, she bought yarn and found a pattern that she wants to knit. She even cast on all by herself. She was so proud that she even showed it to her husband, Mark. Then she read Row 2 of the pattern and realized . . . she doesn't know how to read a knitting pattern. I think we might have to speed up this lesson plan.