Knitwit

On my very long list of "Things I really wanna learn how to do before I die" is all the basic clothes-making activities: knitting, crocheting, sewing, and quilting. My beloved great-grandmother taught me a small amount of crochet, but all I can do today is make a very long braid...erm, jump rope!

Knitting and quilting are up there, though, because I already have an idea of EXACTLY what I want to make a quilt out of, and because I'd love the idea of making scarves and sweaters and some day a blanket from knitting. So, when Beau and I were perusing the craft not-so-superstore Michael's recently, (so I could buy lollipop molds), we saw they had many different classes, and they were cheap! The beginning knitting class was a mere $5 for two hours. When I mentioned I'd like to take that, Beau said, "I'll take that with you."

I nearly had a stroke right there in the aisle.

I've been trying to get him to take more MANLY courses with me - boot camp fitness, truffle making, ceramics, tango (okay, they're not THAT manly), and though he's expressed a mild interest, the reality is that I got the infamous Beau-Don't-Budge act. Beau reminds me a lot of the Thais. He won't exactly say "no" to your face, but if he doesn't want to do it, it takes an earthquake and tidal wave to move him. He considers that "controlling his own life." I consider it "impossible."

So, when he OFFERED to take a class with me, and it was KNITTING...well, it was a wonderful, if albeit, heart-stopping moment. We signed up, then promptly proceeded to the back wall where Michael's disappointingly-limited array of yarns and needles were displayed. Using my handy Knitting for Dummies mini-book (basically a long pamphlet), we chose size 8 needles (metal for me, bamboo for him) and one skein of yarn each, a nice wool blend. Grey for me, speckled blue for him. We thought we'd start off trying to make a scarf or something.

At home, a couple days before the lesson, we propped open the Knitting for Dummies mini-book and tried to do some stuff ourselves. It quickly became clear that Beau was the more adept knitter. It took him about 2 minutes to describe a slipknot to me (really). We theorized all that knot tying with fly fishing and raising horses had made it familiar to him, since in my opinion, all knitting is is making interlacing knots over and over again. Still, I wasn't catching on lightning fast or anything.

I don't know what it is, but there are certain kinds of things that my brain has a really difficult time grasping - certain kinds of instructions and tasks. I have to hear them over and over, and go almost in slow motion. For instance, though I would LOVE to play music, I have tried to learn music three different times and never gotten very far. I know HOW to read it, I mean, I GET it, but I just can't seem to READ it on the page easily and end up counting lines over and over again. This is why when I played Indonesian gamelan, I was TOTALLY in a state of joy, since we learned songs by numbers which corresponded to your instrument, and it's easy to bang metal bars with a large hammer when each one has a number. Look, even Dubya can do it!

AN-Y-WAY, on a cold Thursday night, I arrived at Michael's, needles and skeins in hand. Beau was coming from Wally World, and since I got there early, I texted him that I was there, and sat in my car reading the second Golden Compass novel. With just a couple minutes before 6pm, I entered the store and went to the classroom in back. Right before entering, I called Beau, who still hadn't left Wally World *mutter* and would be a bit late. But he soon arrived and we sat down at a long table in a small, cluttered, obnoxiously-lit room. Opposite us was a diminutive teenager with bright blue hair, knitting away at Mach 3. Our teacher.

We were the only two in the class, and naturally with a blue-haired teenager, things are a bit laid-back. She taught us the very basics, and then basically sat back continuing to knit. Again, Beau caught on fast, and I...didn't. After several embarrassing missteps, I got started, and the three of us were just knitting away with simple garter stitches. Every once in awhile I'd hold my piece up to the high schooler and like a small child, bleat out, "Help!" She'd grab the wool, eye it carefully while muttering, "What...did...you...do...here?" and then would proceed to unravel here and there, hand it back to me, and chirp, "There you go!" That was repeated several times over the night.

So, since basically all it was was the three of us sitting there knitting a basic scarf of 28 stitches wide, this gave the teeny bopper a chance to talk. And boy, was she chatty. Still, I liked her, and after a little more than an hour slowly discovered she was a major gamer/nerd/D&D, etc. kind of gal with a gaggle of geeky guy friends. Beau remained annoyingly silent throughout, so I did my social duty and plied the girl with questions to keep her mouth moving. Otherwise, it would have been just a little bit awkward. But she was only too happy to educate us on her ENTIRE life, so I listened and smiled and commented occasionally. After about an hour and a half, it was clear that we "got it" and not much more would be taught. So, we basically let her go, got one more skein of yarn each for our nubile scarves, along with our 10% discount, and went on our way.

Overall, the lesson was...fine. It did get us started, and I've been ravenously knitting the world's most ratty scarf since then, but I was also a bit disappointed. I was kind of hoping for a good foundation -- all those vocabulary words like "cast on" and "purling" and stuff. I was hoping to learn a few more things. But obviously, this is my fault as well. I should have opened my big pie hole and asked her to do exactly that. I guess I was just so thrilled to be actually KNITTING so quickly, that I didn't push it. Besides, it was just the first lesson.

So, my trashy, Eliza Doolittle scarf continues to grow. It's full of holes and misshapen. In fact, by some way that I cannot fathom, I mentioned to slowly....widen... the scarf. Dear Lazuli showed me how to quickly correct this mistake, but as you can see, the current scarf looks like a giant, striped penis. Or, a penis wearing a really warm sweater.

When I showed it to a friend at work today, he said it looked like some kind of neat old artifact that you could hang on the wall, like a Thai textile or something. *sigh*

Guess it's time for lesson #2. Maybe with a different instructor.