It is a beautiful, windy, fall day, my sweet sunshine just went down for her nap, and there is only one thing I want to do–knit.  Before you start imaging me to be one of those chic, Stitch n’ Bitch kind of knitters who makes cool stuff like fingerless mitts, complicated socks, and clever hats, let me disabuse you of that notion.  I am a terrible knitter.  I have been taught and re-taught how to knit at least ten times since I was eight.  I rarely finish anything because I make mistakes constantly.  I have exactly zero of the qualities that make a good knitter (I mean, I’m not even shooting for great!).  So, after reading this intro, one might wonder why it is that I bother knitting at all.

The odd truth is that I knit mostly to defy myself.  That probably sounds a little crazy, but truly, according to all known laws of man, physics, the universe, and my knowledge of myself as a person, I should not be able to knit.  Knitting calls for patience.  I have been known (perhaps on more than one occasion) to actually throw knitting in the fire and watch all of my mistakes melt when I’m too frustrated to unravel and try yet again.  Knitting calls for careful attention to each detail and anyone who knows me at all can tell you in no uncertain terms that I am not good with details! I mean, we’re talking about a girl who forgot to get her own marriage license for goodness’ sake!  So really, it’s not even just the little details I often miss, it’s the big ones, too. And finally, knitting demands excellent organization skills while I am loosely held together chaos at my best.

In short, everything I’m not is what is required to knit anything at all.  And yet, the challenge of it is irresistible to me.  Not to mention, the fierce sense of accomplishment when I do happen to finish something, knowing that I have battled my inadequacies and risen the victor.  No matter how often I put it down swearing I’m done (or just swearing), I come back again and again.  At this point, I think it’s safe to say I’ll be knitting for as long as my fingers will cooperate . . . at least as much as they’re cooperating now, anyway.