A few years ago, knitting went through this big boom. A woman who used to own a yarn shop told me it was because of 9/11–people spent lots more time than usual in front of their tvs and wanted something to do with their hands.
I’ve been knitting for lots longer than that–close to 20 years. When I first started, Husband thought it was a great idea–I’d be saving on clothes. Obviously Husband hadn’t priced alpaca or cashmere yarn lately.
I do it in spurts…sometimes a few months will go by without me picking up my needles. Lately though, I’ve been on a kick–inspired by some yarn I bought here:
That’s The Shambles in York…the narrowest street in England (or so I’ve been told). The 15th century buildings nearly touch each other. There was a great yarn shop tucked away and I spend some time and poundage there.
But that’s not at all what this post is about.
It’s about my dorkitude.
Last month I entered two things I knitted a year or so ago in the local county fair.
I entered this:
And I entered this:
And I won this:
If there was a way I could earn a living knitting, I’d be all over it. But $20 once a year won’t buy much alpaca.