Towards the beginning of the month, our dear friend Mike approached us about possibly moving into one of the small rooms that we use as storage closets. We struck a deal, help me reorganize Storage A and to help James out with getting his bedroom back to a livable quality, and you’ve got yourself a place to live.
During the snow storm a couple weeks ago, he came up and spent the night and some of that reorganization took place…. That’s when the big green box of yarn got uncovered.
“Pull that one out,” I said, “If it’s in the living room where I can get at it, I might use it.”
A few hours later, I found myself sitting on the living room floor… Surveying the contents of the box. It felt a little like uncovering a time capsule.
I started getting into knitting in 2006, and the craft had dominated my life in 2007 and 2008. Everything in my world revolved around knitting. I dragged along my projects everywhere. I read knitting blogs. I listened to knitting podcasts. I spent hours on knitting related message boards. I had a penchant for indie handpainted yarn that I ordered off the Internet impulsively. I was elated when Ravelry was released. I even bought a couple of spinning wheels and learned to spin my own yarn.
And then in 2009, New York City happened and all of that changed.
It seemed like overnight, I suddenly had a social life. My evenings were filled with outings with friends and whiskey glasses, instead of quiet evenings at home with my knitting needles.
My knitting slowed to maybe one or two projects a year, and I rarely gave it much of a thought.
Then, I opened that box… and the rush came flying back at me… All of those textures, all of those colors… What can I make with this?
Self-striping yarn was a good choice. It’s like knitters crack. You can sit and work on something for hours just telling yourself, “I’ll knit to the next color change. I’ll knit to the next color change.”
Will I knit more than two projects this year? I don’t know… but I’m enjoying it for now.