Yeah...so...knitting huh? Here is the dill-ee-oh about knitting for me. When I started knitting years ago, I made mittens. Lots of them. I was quite good at it. And the ones that turned out badly were ripped out half-way and re-worked into stick-shift cozies for our cars and trucks. But then I digressed to just making scarves, and then to the point of not knitting anything at all. I didn't care, I didn't want to pick up the sticks, I just wasn't interested.
Problem is that I become FOCUSED on something and it becomes all encompassing. It was knitting for a while, then rag rugs, then antiquing, then yoga, then wine, then wine, then wine, then weight loss (see aforementioned wine inserts), then knitting, then golf, then beading, and then...well you get the picture. I have to buy it, be it, do it, and think about nothing but it, whatever the 'it' may be.
After my Doctor rolled his eyes and reminded me that since I already have an OCD that manifests itself through my control issues (which reminds me to call my therapist for my annual 'mental physical') I realized that its should come as no surprise that when I get interested in something, I must OWN IT.
And through all the different interests and crafts and wonderfulness of things that constantly feed my spongy brain, I have found that the thing that I keep coming back to is knitting.
It's the tactileness (is that a word?) of knitting. The wonderfulness of the wool. The really cool way some lovely warm bamboo needles feel in my hands. And conversely, the way some shiny, heavy, steel needles feel cold and click really turns me on. There is something so tribal, natural, even seductive about some fabulous wool and the way a pattern slowly comes together.
Oh I could go on and on. But the whole POINT of this entry is the big earth-toned 'throw' I started. Did I tell you about it? Yes? No? Don't matter cause now it has turned into the big earth-toned THING that is overtaking my lap, my thoughts, and my life. It got too big for a throw, not big enough for a blanket...so I find myself just knitting and knitting it. My OCD is overtaking the meaning behind the thing in the first place. It is no longer a project, it is my own Mount Kilimanjaro, my white whale, my own personal kind of heroin I must kick. I have one more ball of yarn to go then I am done with this thing.
Or...am I? Can I let it go? Is it finished? 'Cause as I said, its not big enough for a blanket.
Hmmmmm...but if I add a couple more balls to it then it would be. Or something nice to toss on the leather couch for cold nights reading. Oh yeah, my thoughts are eloquent, but the project is getting on my fucking nerves. Will post a picture tonight. Will grow my hair back later.