Whew! I’m still all breathless from the experience!
Of course, I “know” lots of knitters. Like you, for instance. And Wendy and the Harlot and all. But I’ve never actually seen them. Or you, for that matter. I don’t belong to a guild, and there aren’t any knitters in my family. And frankly, I just don’t get out much.
The only Real Live Knitters I have met are my brother’s girlfriend (hi, Alex!), who has a new fantastic job and no more time to knit, and my former mother-in-law Elfriede, who doesn’t knit for herself and only occasionally knits for anyone else. Both of them live in Ohio and I might see them once a year.
But on Saturday…whoa baby! My husband was trying to get some work done at home, so I volunteered to take Jack out for a while. The plan was to drive him to sleep in the car, then pop into the library for a couple of things, then bring him home. It didn’t work. He knew exactly where I was going and was thrilled. So, we ended up going into the Children’s Department so he could play with the Brio setup.
And there she was. She was sitting by the puppet theater, working on a project I recognized — a Wallaby pullover taught in a Herrschners class. With Addi Turbos no less! When I started chatting her up she was friendly, but when I pulled out my own knitting she invited me to sit next to her, and we became Instant Knitter Friends. We talked yarn, we talked about how we learned to knit, we talked about the Herrschners bargain bin, we exchanged stitch patterns, she invited me to a knitting group meeting where they’ll be collecting squares for charity afghans. And we sat and knitted and knitted and knitted. We gave each other our e-mail addresses and talked about raising boys. She watched me knit and said, “Yes, you do seem to be knitting left-handed,” and God bless her, she started to show me how to hold the yarn for tension. (So was so kind.) When she had to leave and I had to leave, she hugged me!
You want to know the funniest thing?
She didn’t think anyone else knitted any more.
Pictures of Progress
Here is the Moebius, all 43 inches of it.
And here’s the Irish Hiking Scarf. Now that it’s not a secret any more, I got to sit with Mr. Beth for two evenings and knit one repeat of it each night. (That’s the safest way for me not to screw it up. After eight lines, I would probably lose count.) He didn’t say much, but I think he was pleased to see me working on something nice for him. Because after a while he asked if I could make a sweater like that.
And here, meet my date for tonight, with any luck at all.