A short list of things that I am good at, and things that I am not good at.
Good at: Making knitters.
This is Pato, knitting for the 2nd time, which is apparently all it took to create a monster. (Technically Megan taught him to knit, but I figure that since I made Megan a knitter Pato’s a score for me too.) I told him he had to learn to knit to earn my pledge for their ride, and he took it to heart. Last night Meg was trying to get him to leave to go to dinner and he told her to let him finish his row first. Meg told me later that he was at it all night. Serious boy, that.
Not good at: Cleaning, apparently. We have two cordless phones in the house. One has been missing for a week. I’ve really looked for it too, so that leaves the only reasonable possibility. It’s been eaten by the roaming dust bison.
Good at: Knitting, which I suspected.
I finished Harumi, which is a lovely knit and took just about two skeins of Luscious, a 100% silk, in the colour "Copperline."
It’s a heavier yarn than the pattern calls for, so I went up to a 4.5mm needle and got a larger shawl.
It’s heavy and shiny and delicate and delicious and I’m entirely smitten with it. Easy pattern too- as far as lace shawls go. I suspect I will only be more fond of it when the heat breaks.
Not Good At: Throwing a baseball, which has been entirely irrelevant in my life until now.
I’m throwing out the first pitch at the Toronto Stitch n’ Pitch on the 27th of July, which gives me absolute fits. I only agreed to do it because I thought it would impress my nephew Hank, and I guess I didn’t think it though, because getting out there and throwing like a total loser really isn’t going to impress him. I had a dream the other night that I went to throw it and it rolled off the back of my hand as I tossed and landed at my feet. In the dream I brushed this off, picked it up and then threw it straight into the ground three feet away like Mariah Carey did. (Big thanks to Amy for sending me that link so that my nightmare could fully form in glorious colour.) I was telling my sister last night about it and she said "You have to practice Steph. You really can’t throw badly. You have to practice or it’s going to be humiliating. People will tease you about it forever."
"I know." I said. "I think they would."
"I know they would." she replied. "It’s a fact. It’s going to be me Steph. If you screw this up I’m going to tease you forever. I won’t be able to help it."
It’s true too. She wouldn’t be able to resist. I wouldn’t either, so I don’t fault her. Hell, I’ve been mocking Mariah Carey for days since I saw that and there’s no evidence that I can throw any better than her. It’s just too stupid. I mean, I wouldn’t mock someone who couldn’t avoid a situation, but it’s not like I’m getting forced to do it. I’m the one who agreed. I was fully aware that there was ball throwing in being asked to throw the first pitch, and I was fully aware that I can’t throw a ball, and I said yes. I deserve everything that happens next, like when I get out there, step up to the mark and then fumble the whole thing so badly that in a bizarre freak moment I manage to bungle the scene so spectacularly that I throw the ball at my own face with sufficient force to give myself a nosebleed that’s displayed on the Jumbotron and youtube forever and leaves people talking, for years and years about how they remember that harlot knitting woman and didn’t even know that was possible and man, didn’t it look like it hurt?
Good At: Persistence, so I’m going to go practice.
I feel like having the ball is a good start.