stone cold knitter

i miss my cat.

I’m an on-again, off-again knitter. I’m in on-mode right now, having been inspired by a friend who has been crocheting those cute amigurumi figures. I’m of Japanese descent, and it has taken me forever to learn and remember that word. Amygummy? Agroommy? Ergimummy? Argh!!

I love yarn, especially when the fiber is spun from alpacas. I love wooden needles and the fact that you can’t bring them to jury duty because it is a known fact that knitters are stone. Cold. KILLERS.

I’ve been trying to knit the perfect hat. This has been going on for years. The only hat I’ve ever kept was the one I subsequently lost in Scotland. Every time I travel I somehow manage to leave behind some article of clothing. (I am choosing to let that last sentence sound sexy and daring, even though it involves beanies and stretched-out sweatshirts.) In fact, I’ve hardly kept anything I’ve ever made, save a few coffee cup cozies and some crocheted roses my armygrummi friend taught me how to make.

Why is this?

a) I’m a perfectionist unwilling to compromise the highest apex of my expectations
b) I give everything away as part of my plan to clothe the heads of the entire population, one hat at a time
c) I look terrible in hats

See? I look like Michael Nesmith. I’m very upset because the hat is too small for my head. And it’s making me look like I have sideburns.

All are sort of true. But the thing that dawned on me this morning is that I actually enjoy the process. Screw the outcome. My task, my lesson, is to appreciate what is happening in the moment. Sometimes I feel disappointed that I didn’t capture a moment with my camera or that a better camera would be able to perfectly capture a scene…and then I remember that I am here, seeing this perfect thing at the most perfect of moments. That I can choose how I want to see what I see. Moments like this shift my perspective and depth of gratitude. Knitting, you are a surprising teacher.

Yes, we’re stone-cold killers. But we can also be found staring lovingly at our inordinate amounts of yarn and our beautifully crafted weapons of choice.

It’s the alpaca heart in us.

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