Passing the Torch

In last week's post, I mentioned the lovely Half-Moon Shawl that I whipped up to shield myself from the cold in my office. Since said whipping, the temperature in said office has improved, and the shawl has been largely a decorative objet across the back of my chair. So it's not really gotten a lot parading around the corporate environs at all. But that does not mean it has escaped the notice of some of the friendlier eyes that have been cast upon it.

One colleague who'd stopped by to announce her engagement literally grabbed it off of the chair and wrapped herself in, stopping when she realized that she hadn't even asked before putting on my clothes! She loved it, and as you all know, that is a gratifying moment indeed.

More gratifying still was when another colleague (just about half my age, btw), told me she'd been eyeing the shawl for days and asked to try it on. So taken was she that she wants to take up the hook! We spent probably more time than we should have, all things considered, talking about yarn basics, hook basics, and how best to start learning. I mean, how cool is that? I've been hooking since I was a young'n, having learnt at my mother's knee. But for someone to spontaneously take it up in her 20's? I'm charmed beyond description!


In other news, my work on Nicky Epstein's Roman Holiday Shrug continues largely unabated. It looks so hard and complex, but it is much easier than it appears. My wee portion of it is riddled with errors, but in all seriousness, I have learned tons about knitting by sticking with it, frogging some, and keeping Stitch N Bitch nearby as a reference.

Years ago, when dinosaurs still roamed the earth and I was in college, I was taking piano lessons as an independent study course. Though I love music, I don't think I could be mistaken for "musically inclined." But I soldiered on, learning to read music and pounding out infantile tunes on the keyboard in the teeny practice cubicles at my school. Then one day, it happened. I was no longer looking at the notes on the page, thinking about where my fingers should go, carefully placing my fingers on those keys and playing the notes. All of a sudden, that magical short-circuit happened where my eyeballs saw the notes and my fingers pretty much knew what to do. For you Helen Keller fans out there, it was my W-A-T-E-R moment. And as all you hookers and knitters know, there is a world of difference between having to follow each bloody notation on a pattern and being able to suss out the next stitch by simply looking at the textile in your hand.

This is the point I'm getting to on the sticks. I may struggle with the printed pattern, but the fabric being created is starting to make a whole lot more sense than it ever did before.

And that, my friends, is a wonderful feeling indeed.