Numbers

Granny had a knitted afghan, multi-colored fans, complicated and lacy, fine gauge wool. The only thing she ever knitted. She bullied her eldest daughter into teaching her, not to mention getting her through this intricate project, as a beginning knitter. Which according to Aunt Evelyn, could only be described as a trial.

Aunt Evelyn and Granny had a complex relationship, often antagonistic, but neither could disengage.

I learned basic knitting as a kid, but had no real interest. I crocheted an afghan for my oldest niece when she was born, simple squares stitched together. I even made a patchwork quilt in high school, again, I went for simple squares, and knew my limitations. Keeping in mind, always, that story of Granny, and Aunt Evelyn. All a bit hard on my neck anyway. Although I could manage it as a utilitarian craft, it never struck me as a creative outlet, not for me. Never thought I'd ever get past the basics. Too much arithmetic.

My mother told of knitting socks as a young girl, but never being able to turn the heel properly.

This is all a little strange, since I am deeply drawn to textures, soft fabrics, wools and silks and linens. Maybe it's like sausages, better to enjoy them than to make them.

Yarn bombing fascinates me. A talent I admire, without the ability to participate. Appreciate the geometry, knowing I would mess up the numbers.

Tried to use my debit card, and the PIN had evaporated completely. I knew the composite numerals, but the order completely scrambled. Sending for it, so I can change it.