at the ready

While there are few hobbies I enjoy more than knitting, I have to admit that the actual act of starting a new project - the casting on - is not all that enjoyable for me. It always feels a little daunting and presumptuous. Who do I think I am trying to make a sweater or a pair of socks or some mittens? Do I really think I can handle a project that might require counting every single stitch while simultaneously listening out for my three-year-old who has momentarily amused herself with a puzzle but will be coming to find me any second so I can "help" her (read: watch her) finish it up? Why do I think I have time for this? Surely there are a million other things that I could be doing right now! 

And while that may be true - there may be a million other things that I could...or should...be doing - the truth is that all of that stuff would really never get done if I didn't sit down every once in awhile and take a few minutes to knit. Knitting revives me for whatever comes next. When Annabel refuses to get dressed and brush her teeth and comb her hair and eat her breakfast, I sit down and knit. Then I give her a hug and try again, calmly. When Tommy gets upset about finishing his homework and takes ten minutes to finish one math problem, I send him to his desk in his room and sit down and knit. Then I go upstairs and help him finish his math, calmly. When I've been doing dishes all day long and I turn around and the sink is full of them again, I sit down and knit. Then I get up and get them done, calmly. I may knit one row or I may knit ten. It all depends on how wound up I was and how calm I need to be. And it doesn't always work. But mostly it does. And I'm grateful. 

So when I finished my last project and started working on a blanket that I've been trying to finish for about three years...and then had to frog it (I learned recently that "frogging" is when you rip the entire project out)...and then when I started a pair of socks and decided that since I didn't have the right size double-pointed needles that it would be fine to go up just one size and then had to frog THAT because it would only have fit a bigfoot foot...I was feeling a little sorry for myself. Now I only had one project in progress (a sweater for me that I'm not ready to pick back up just yet) and a cast-on staring me in the face. 

That's when I did what any self-respecting knitter would do. I called myself a wimp, sat down with my husband and a cup of chamomile tea and several episodes of Parks and Rec, and I cast on for three different projects: a third attempt of the Two Lights Blanket, a second attempt of Will's socks, and a third pair of fingerless gloves. It didn't even take that long to do which really did make me feel like a wimp. Then I scattered the projects around the house - one in the downstairs family room, one on my bedside table, and one in the upstairs family room - so that I could sit down and knit whenever I needed to chill out...or just whenever.

Socks downstairs

Gloves on the bedside table

Partially finished sweater and blanket upstairs

That ought to hold me for awhile. Do you have a hobby that calms you down? If you don't, let me know. I'd be happy to teach you how to knit.

P.s. Happy Groundhog Day!