I love to knit. I love the meditative rhythm of the activity itself when I’m paying full attention to it, and I love having something to do with my hands while my attention is elsewhere, like on a conversation with a friend. I love taking a skein or ten of beautiful yarn and transferring it, like magic, into a beautiful, useful object.
Nine months of the year, I have two projects going at a time. One is a sock (I knit ‘em the old-fashioned way, one at a time, top down, on double-pointed needles) in a pouch that’s always in my purse, should an opportunity to knit present itself. The other is a project that stays in a basket next to my TV-watching chair. This might be a sweater or a scarf or an afghan — it’s something that either involves a set of directions that I need to refer to regularly, or is too big to schlep around, or both.
In summer, in my un-air-conditioned house, it’s just too freaking hot to have a lapful of wool, so I usually just knit socks. (This ups my productivity significantly: I’m about to turn the heel on the second sock of a pair I started back in January, but expect to knock out the next pair, if not two, before Labor Day.) The trick is to time the living room project so that I’m done with it before the really hot weather kicks in.
This year, as it happened, I was working on a make-it-up-as-I-go-along project most of the spring, so I could just declare it done when temperatures started to rise. It was a stitch-sampler afghan, which I did by picking up stitches from one section to start the next.
I definitely learned a few things that will improve the results on the next one. For instance, I screwed up the edging — I did one crochet per knitted stitch, which left it way too tight. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize this till I was on the third lap around the whole thing. If I were a better person, I’d’ve ripped it all out and redone it — but since this is definitely for my personal afghan collection (that’s my monogram in reversed stockinette in the big teal rectangle in the middle), I declared it, as the saying goes, “good enough for who it’s for.” And for what — since I’ll probably use it as a lap robe while sitting at the computer, it doesn’t need to be perfectly flat.