Can one learn?

Last November after I came home from a 20 day hospital stay after a massive heart attack, quadruple bypass surgery, and a pulmonary embolism I decided to finish all my started knitting projects and knit a sweater for Stephen. I looked through every bin and basket and finished tons of socks. Since socks go missing in the wash I must have thought why knit the one that gets lost anyway, save myself some time. Well, it doesn’t work that way. I also made a sweater for Stephen to replace the ones I made 20 plus years ago with arms that stretched to the floor by now, or arms that never stretched, and other imperfections.

I did good. Though I avoided major unfinished projects. There is a cardigan I made for myself. All it needs is seaming together. That’s my, well, what’s the word here? Let me just say, I might be in a nursing home or dead before this thing will be finished.

Now I do have a friend who offered to do it for me, but I’m stubborn, and also see it as a teaching opportunity for myself. Plus, I’m a control freak. If that means, I’ll never wear this thing, so be it.

But I digressed. I need to acknowledge here that in four months I managed to produce more unfinished objects than I finished. Part of this is Stephen’s fault. He had to get me a gift certificate for my local yarn store. Did he not know what that would lead to? Does he know me so little after almost 33 years? Or does he care so little? Well, in that case….

Last evening, Thursday evenings, when a few of us get together and knit, I finished knitting the man purse. Actually, I ran out of yarn and was too lazy to get up and get some more. It also looked big enough. For now I’m holding out on the felting as there are other projects that need felting and finishing first. Let’s do them all together.

During my recovery I had a friend who checked in on me daily by phone. She even cooked some meals for us. So I decided to knit a pair of socks in gratitude. Turns out, her house is full of cloth moths and she refuses to use anything toxic. Did you know that of the over 15,000 types of moths only two devour animal fibers? Well, she has them and can’t use anything with wool in it. A sock out of cotton? How about acrylic? I’m a sort of yarn snob, but even in the unmentionable fibers I found nothing suitable.

That’s when it happened. Checking out a tiny, packed to the ceiling craft store, I saw a yarn that read wool-free sock yarn. It must have been the psychedelic neon colors that drew my attention. What was I supposed to do? Miss my one chance of paying back my friend who once mentioned she loves colorful socks?

This picture does not do justice to the screaming colors, but you get the idea.


I will only be knitting one and then get her opinion before I continue.

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