Fiona soooo rules.
I was completely convinced that I was too stupid to live, unteachable, untrainable, an exceptionally dangerous menace to society*, etc, by the time she arrived today. This was so predictable it almost didn’t bother me (much). But I admit that the prospect of making a fool of yourself to someone a quarter century younger than you are is even more appalling than the prospect of making a fool of yourself generally.**
And there certainly was that moment when Fiona was trying to coax me through my first knitting stitch when I Knew That I Was, not merely too stupid to live, but The Stupidest Person Who Ever Lived and Fiona would have better luck teaching the hellhounds to knit.
And then I started DOING IT.
Meanwhile, Fiona among others had said that acrylic is not always the devil’s yarn and had its uses as for example for babies who will spit up a lot and leak around their nappies, and whose clothing traditionally spends more time in the washing machine than on the kid or . . . hellhounds. Who don’t leak (much) but can’t be trusted in the throwing-up department and who happen to be allergic to posh natural fabrics like wool. So Fiona had brought some acrylic yarn-ends for me to practise on. . . .
. . . Because she also said, thoughtfully, her fingers a blur of stitches as she threw off squares for a baby blanket, that a hellhound blanket might be a good introductory and interstitial project, in that it can be put together out of nice individually manageable squares, and I can just frelling KNIT the squares and never mind getting myself all bollixed up and backwardsed by trying to learn to purl right away, or ribbing or any of that other high-level legwarmer stuff, and I can knit and knit and knit and knit (squares) till it is TOTALLY SECOND NATURE and possibly third, fourth and fifth nature, and IF I EVER SEE A SQUARE AGAIN I WILL RUN AWAY SCREAMING. And then next month she can remind me how to purl and maybe look at that scary legwarmer pattern again. Also knitting squares will mean that I have lots of practise casting off which appears to be one of those knitting bugbears.***
Which of course necessitated rushing off to Mauncester for fresh supplies.
And yes, you’re reading the brand name correctly. Distressing to find acrylic named after you. And also . . . who do I speak to about colourways? I wanted an amusing assortment of colours for my hellhound blanket squares and nothing is amusing with anything else. Also there is a certain minor consideration of practicality that needs to be addressed here: we’re talking hellhounds. Their feet are dirty by definition and ‘hair factory’ is just another name for ‘dog’.† What I really wanted was something tweedy . . . or rather several somethings in a variety of tweedy . . . but these will do. And they feel nice in the hand: they don’t say acrylicacrylicacrylicewwwwwww.††
By now it was time for Fiona to go home. ††† But bell ringing got cancelled tonight‡ so somehow Fiona and I just sat around chatting and knitting.
I had decided to start on my first square, so I had a brief lesson in counting. But there was still the dreaded Casting Off to come. I was going to stop . . . any minute . . . and let her show me how to cast off. But we kept chatting . . . and knitting . . . and then. . . .
AND MID-SQUARE‡‡ MY VOICE TEACHER CALLED. YES!!! I HAVE A VOICE TEACHER AGAIN!!!! AND I HAVE MY FIRST VOICE LESSON WITH MY NEW VOICE TEACHER NEXT MONDAY!!!!!!! YAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!
Clearly Fiona has excellent mojo.
* * *
* With thanks to everyone who sent me this link, including Mirkat in the forum: http://icanhascheezburger.com/2011/02/04/funny-pictures-mayb e-i-shouldve-knit-one/
** As I have said several times recently, remind me not to start a blog next time. Or to stick to topics less embarrassing than one’s own life and pratfalls. Preferably something noncontroversial: Politics, say. Or at very least not to announce things before I do them.^
^ Except that suspense is such great blog material.
*** I’m sorry, but until I know better I refuse to get too hysterical about sewing squares together. I’ve put up too many fallen-down hems and sewed up too many holes, not to mention darned too many socks.
† Possibly for ‘domestic critter’. But I’ve known cats that didn’t shed much. And of course cats that did. Shed. Much.
†† The body part I’m having trouble with isn’t my skin, but my left thumb, which seems to be spending rather too much time pushing on the pointy end of a needle which is trying to go somewhere I don’t want it to go.
††† We spent over an hour in the yarn shop. How did that happen?????
‡ Ordinarily a damn, blast and My Life Is A Ruin moment. Tonight . . .
‡‡ When I should have been bell ringing
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