Call me Ishmael . . .

I'm bursting at the seams (pun fully intended) trying not to talk about knitting.

Thus, in true Highlander fashion, I give up.

In a manner.

Instead of biting my tongue on the subject on my regularly scheduled blog (which has been languishing in obscurity the last few weeks, due to the untimely demise of my computer's video card which has it sent to be repaired), I'm going to try - keyword: try - to keep a general record of my needle-related flail over here. Le voila. A knitting blog. How far I have fallen.

So, in the manner of general introduction, as of today (April . . . somethingth. 25th.), I've been knitting for six months. I learned to knit from two of my friends - one of whom taught me to knit, and the other to purl, so I give both of them the credit. Once I'd mastered the garter stitch scarf (seven feet long in grey and blue boucle, not too shabby if I do say so myself), I moved immediately to fair isle knitting in the round. Me? Take things slowly? Surely you jest.

I'm an Aries. This is how we roll.

I've invented my own mitten pattern, created two fair isle charts, accumulated a scary little stash, and clothed all my loved ones in warmth. Now, the next challenge: Lace knitting.