Lately, I have been knitting like a mother fucker. Actually, truth be told I do not know how a mother fucker knits. It would be rather insensitive of me to assume that all mother fuckers knit or that all mother fuckers have the same level of skill when it comes to knitting, so I really should have thought more about my word choice in that first sentence.
Let's start again.
Lately, I have been knitting like an individual who has very clearly defined goals when it comes to what they hope to accomplish through their knitting and semi-specific ideas about the timeline that they would like to accomplish these goals within.
There. That's better.
I was inspired to take up knitting when I was forced to discard a pair of mittens that had been purchased by a friend on a trip to Poland and gifted to me upon her return. My mittens were made of big, scratchy wool and smelled vaguely of kielbasa. I loved them immediately.
Parting with those mittens very nearly broke my heart, so I vowed to find a way to fill the void they left.
Or maybe I just got bored one day and decided that knitting seemed like a neat thing to do and that I should give it another shot. I can't really remember, but the end result is that I knit now.
To date, I have completed one pair of mittens (that may or may not look like they were made for someone with severely misshapen hands), 1/6th of a scarf and half of a second pair of mittens (with marked improvement when it comes to craftsmanship).
I have zero ambition to move increase my range beyond mittens, scarves and maybe hats.
Let's start again.
Lately, I have been knitting like an individual who has very clearly defined goals when it comes to what they hope to accomplish through their knitting and semi-specific ideas about the timeline that they would like to accomplish these goals within.
There. That's better.
I was inspired to take up knitting when I was forced to discard a pair of mittens that had been purchased by a friend on a trip to Poland and gifted to me upon her return. My mittens were made of big, scratchy wool and smelled vaguely of kielbasa. I loved them immediately.
Parting with those mittens very nearly broke my heart, so I vowed to find a way to fill the void they left.
Or maybe I just got bored one day and decided that knitting seemed like a neat thing to do and that I should give it another shot. I can't really remember, but the end result is that I knit now.
To date, I have completed one pair of mittens (that may or may not look like they were made for someone with severely misshapen hands), 1/6th of a scarf and half of a second pair of mittens (with marked improvement when it comes to craftsmanship).
I have zero ambition to move increase my range beyond mittens, scarves and maybe hats.
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