Once upon a time, a nice social worker taught me to knit using a couple of pencils. I spent much of junior high school starting little projects in rainbow ombre yarn. During a long, lonely, semester abroad, I even knitted a giant brioche rib alpaca sweater, way too warm to ever wear.
Now everyone knits. And I'm having a baby. Shouldn't I knit again too? I feel like I'm hiding something when people talk about knitting: I still know more about certain kinds of patterned stitches than most people who knit, even though I can't work in ends and have them stick. (A confession: I even made a sloppy little garter stitch scarf back last winter, during my IVF cycle and all that accompanied it. Still haven't worked in the ends, though.)
So, when I was in Weatherwood in June, bored out of my skull and looking forward to a month in a dormitory in British Columbia, I remembered the Hoover blanket pattern I'd somehow run across in Knitty, and I went to the brand new yarn store downtown.
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