Olympic Dreams

I actually managed to get out of the house today while the sun was shining for a little much-needed fiber therapy. Of course, the best place for that is Sheep Street. It's a long hike from my place, but it's always worth it. When I arrived, I couldn't help but stop and say hello to the ladies in the assisted-living pasture. They asked that I give their regards to Sophia and the other Golden Girls, then as I turned I heard them gossiping about who belonged to who and whether or not Blanche was married. I left them to it.

 

I didn't have time for chit chat. I had training to do. With Angie as my coach and Pirate, the cat, as the official judge I performed my first ever solo run at knitting.

 

I didn't win a gold medal, I didn't even make it close to the podium. But with Angie's expert tutelage, I mastered the cast on, knit, purl, garter stitch, stockinette stitch, ribbing and binding off technical aspects of the sport.

So ladies, those of you participating in Yarn Harlot's knitting olympics, look out. All I need is to work on my finesse. Four years from now, I may be a contender.

(Can you believe that Pirate lives in a yarn store and never bothers anything? I was home two minutes and Ethel was all over my ball of yarn. I may have to lock her in a room. Or me.)