Just to get you totally current, I have never claimed to be a knitter. I have gone into pretty deep depths about my lack of the family knitting gene. Click here for written proof from my blog: best. gift. ever. See? I’m not trying to trick anyone here. Not pulling the proverbial wool over your twinkling peepers. This is a truly transparent administration.
But guess what? Turns out, I was wrong. I got the gene. Granted, it’s a little deformed, maybe some would say mutated, but what does that matter? I possess, within my very cells, the ability to quite effortlessly make yarn become other stuff.
And thanks to the power of technology, I can bring you along on the wondrous journey of the discovery of my knitting prowess. ef. fort. less. ly., people.
Here I begin my journey. This is the very moment my mother convinced me to give the whole knitting thing one more shot. She tricked me into it by making me feel capable and competent. She is one sneaky mother.
All seemed to be going very well as I progressed and enjoyed my small victories:
Effortlessly. I mean, what could possibly go wrong? My knitting bloodline is strong. I have the power of nature and nurture all up in my business. Right about now I’m thinking I may need to open a store and sell my spectacular knitting projects in all shapes and sizes. It would basically be my duty, my responsibility, as a master knitter. Preserve the craft. I basked in my own glory right up until the first sign of trouble.
I have no idea what this is about. I really (still) have no clue how this could have possibly happened. But I thought to myself, Jen, keep calm and text your mom. She knows everything.
And this right here, this is where it gets good.
Can I just take a moment here for a brief aside? Many parents of a certain generation, not unlike my own, have really latched on to current miracles of technological advances. And my folks. Wow. I mean, videos, texts, photos, emails, voxer, group messages, let’s just say they are quite savvy. And I mean that in earnest. There’s just one thing that seems to evade the very firm grasp they have on most forms of technical communication. Yes that’s right, I’m talking about you, Auto-correct. Man, what a joy auto-correct has become in my life. Thank you auto-correct creator, thank you.
So let’s kick this off with a bang.
… I thought to myself, Jen, keep calm and text your mom. She knows everything.
Ok, let’s take a moment to “digest” what’s happening here. Clearly, I’ve caught my mom in a rushed moment, but she is too loving and sweet to set me aside. She will help her daughter get through this at all costs. And I would never exploit her weak moments. I need you to believe that.
My poor mom. I think she really was distracted here, and this blog may be the first time she sets reading eyes on this exchange. But mom, take heart. Auto-correct is a perfectly normal part of a balanced life.
And no worries mama, everyone knows you would never say such things purposefully. Everyone.
And just how does she stay so positive in the face of my extreme negativity?
So encouraging. So helpful. Optimistic. She doesn’t even point out my typo. And just look at me being an ungrateful brat. Rude and stubborn. I don’t know where I get that from.
Whaaaa? Excuse me, a wus? Wow. My mom’s rad.
So moving on. Have I mentioned how effortlessly knitting just comes to me?
And that’s when I realized I was in way over my head. I had no idea what the heck she was talking about with the bumps and v’s and patterns. All I knew was she said I wasn’t off track. So I knit two together and carried on.
You really do have to be patient to be a superb knitter.
And carry on I did. I carried it right on over to my mom’s house and she taught me how to do this:
Pretty dang impressive, eh?
All the way up to this:
And that, my friends is how to make a hat, effortlessly.
Isn’t knitting fun?