I thought that some of you new knitters our there could relate to this poem. One of my dearest friends, whom we'll call Rice Cakes, has always been crafty and lately has decided to give the needles a try. This was actually an email she sent to me which I don't think she meant to be a poem..but she's a great writer and her emails usually come out sounding like perfect poems that describe exactly what she's feeling. I loved it. Enjoy!
Knitting progress report.
Watched videos. Repeatedly.
Watched videos the next day. Repeatedly.
Purchased "practice yarn" for $1.
Watched videos.
Begin knitting. Did pretty okay. Several do-overs.
Can't figure out the cast off.
So bought new big long needles. The kind that Oedipus used to poke out his eyes. I'm convinced.
Began to cast on. Sucked.
Watched video. Repeatedly.
Cast on like a freaking pro!
Knit two, purl two, knit two, purl two.
Listen to Terry & children chatter in the car. And Dave Matthews.
Knit two, purl two…stretch it out to check progress…
Notice 3 "button holes" where there should be no "button holes"
Cuss. Quietly. Children are present. Shove in purse.
Ride home. Slightly pouty.
Get home. Cut the pretty "for real" yarn. Light a fire.
Sacramentally or shall I say sacraficially toss that durn thing in the fire.
Big sigh. Cast on again….
Yarn is quite unforgiving, isn't it?
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