Twisted Beginnings

So as my sister mentioned in her first post, I am pretty much brand new to knitting.  She is chiefly responsible for inspiring my dear wife to give knitting another go, which led to the both of them knitting on the couch at my house one Saturday in December.

While my sister had certainly brought her habit to my house previously and I had a dim awareness of the clicking needles in the background, I never paid all that much attention.  But now there were two ladies with the clicking and the clacking.  Perhaps out of a languid curiosity or maybe out of annoyance, I fixed my attention on their respective tasks at hand and considered the process.  The following is a rough transcript of my internal monologue:

"So, I think that knitting is somehow tying lots of little knots together that somehow make up a pattern that somehow becomes a garment."

*Clickety-clack-click*

"Surely the mechanics of the process will be self-evident after just a little observation..."

*Clack-clack-clicket*

"Ok, so apparently it involves staring intently and flipping the yarn about..."

*Click-clackety-click*

"And somehow minute movements of the tips of those needles does something, and then eventually the whole thing ends up on one needle..."

*Click-clack-click-click*

"Clearly there is only one way to explain this phenomenon..."

*Clack-clacker-clickerson*

"Arcane and dark magic of the highest order.  Clearly such sorcery must not be permitted to be practiced under my roof absent my understanding!"

And so I petitioned my wife to instruct me in the way of knitting so that might unravel its secrets.  She happened to be knitting a scarf, so she showed me the stitches and then I knit a few rows.  It was then that I discovered the potential for the mechanics of knitting to soothe and quiet the unruly part of my mind that is constantly seeking out squirrels and shiny things.  The rest of my mind was then free to actually think about things and problem solve while my hands were busy working the stitches.

With this revelation before me, I carefully conceded to my wife that I could indeed imagine myself undertaking this practice if only for the mental health benefits.  A couple short weeks later when shaking out my Christmas stocking, I discovered a skein of yarn and a pair of needles.  This drew some looks from my in-laws who happened to be present, but I played it down.  On the inside, however, I was quite enthused to embark on my first knitting upon our return home.

It has been a very short amount of time since then, but I am already quite enthralled by the seductive cadence of the needles and alluring ballet of the yarn.