As I previously mentioned, a have a pile of yarn. Here it is:
Actually, up till recently it was all over the place: on the living room couch.. below it, in the bedroom, in the study room. Yarn balls became the most popular home decor in our little flat.
Fortunately, a few days ago my stash received a new home: a lovely chest of 4 drawers and now the house looks less messy, the yarn is organized in the drawers and I begin to look like a serious and professional knitter (ha!). Only Sam and Tuti, my two cats seemed to be not so happy about this new arrangement.
My first few attempts to knit were when I was about 9- 10 years old. I used to watch my mom knitting. I was fascinated by her ability to move her fingers so fast without any effort. When she tried to teach me how to knit, I didn't have this harmony with the needles, the yarn and my own fingers. The lovely fluffy white scarf I was knitting felt more like a carpet. In that point it was absolutely clear to me that knitting is something that moms do and that I should leave it that way. And I did.
Couple of years ago I wanted to try again. I took my mom's 30 years old needles, I got me one ball of simple white acrylic yarn. Knowing that nothing good will come out of it, and that I was much smarter when I was 9, I started to cast on. Surprisingly, I remembered how to do it, and how to knit and and purl. And it all I did: 2 knits and 2 purls until my yarn was finished.
The finished product was this white scarf. Perhaps not so fluffy and and way to short, but I didn't care. I was proud that I managed to do it myself- and I loved it!
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