What It Feels Like for a Boy

Probably four or five times in the past I've rolled my eyes at the idea of the "man's point of view" on knitting. Man or woman, you pick up the needles, you cast on, you knit. Unless you have a particularly stupendous bosom or a notably gigantic whanger it's unlikely that either is going to change the way you work stockinette.

This morning, however, I have had a knitting related experience probably unique to the male half of the species. I was drying off after my morning shower and heard the soft click of something hitting the bathroom tile. I thought perhaps I'd lost an earring.

I bent down and found it wasn't an earring that had fallen, it was small orange stitch marker.

Nothing remarkable about that, except that I haven't used those stitch markers since Tuesday when I was knitting in bed. Which means this particular marker must have lodged itself in my considerable chest hair and remained hidden there through two thorough showers Wednesday and Thursday (one in the morning, one after the gym) and another today.

Perhaps I ought to do a bit of searching and see if that #2 dpn turns up.

On the Needles

Marilyn, who takes a motherly interest in my knitting progress, pointed out that it's been awhile since any actual works-in-progress showed up around here. I know, I know. The sad fact is, until I got a shot in the arm from Knitting Camp there wasn't much going on, certainly not enough to justify a post. The few things I was working on were boring me, and I'd rather not show them than risk boring you.

However, several items of mild interest will appear next week when I've had a moment to photograph them.

Darn, I shouldn't have said anything. Now you won't be able to sleep all weekend.