It's better this way...
As I was “trucking along” (a verb I learned from Starla at Crafty Hands in Bowling Green) on my scarf, a wondrous thing happened. My daughter--at the ripe acerbic age of seventeen--walked by and took a look. “That’s cool,” she said with an astonishing sincerity. “Seriously, no lie, that’s cool.” Her voice had that can-I-have-it? tone that lets you know you’ve actually caught the illusive teenage attention. I can think of no higher compliment. And it speaks to what I consider one of entrelac’s best qualities: it’s mighty impressive. Makes you look like a knitting ninja without all the brain-boggling charting of lacework. Or the finger-tangling complexity of fair aisle or intarsia. You get a lot of bang for your buck with entrelac. As for daughter’s implied request? Well, I might let her borrow it, but this baby’s mine.
The other thing that happened this week was that I was stuck in one of those meetings. “Info dump” meetings, where you sit in a hard plastic chair and watch people tell you stuff you already knew. Worst of all, this meeting was a virtual repeat of an earlier meeting (shouldn’t they warn you of that kind of thing). Ninety minutes of squirmy boredom.
Without my knitting.
What was I thinking? I knew the time-wasting potential of this meeting and yet I was too cowardly to tuck my knitting into my handbag. Truth is, any offense I might have given people visually (you know the assumption--”I’m knitting because you’re boring me”--which in this case could have actually been true instead of just wrongly concluded) was nothing compared to the negative thoughts I was sending out into the room. I actually considered getting out my Blackberry and checking email (something I can’t abide in meetings), but I happened to know I’d get no signal in my present location. I was half-serious when I asked my husband what games his cell phone had. I found everyone’s questions annoying and repetitive. I fidgeted. I whispered judgmental comments into my husband’s ear until he rolled his eyes. Not pretty.
My original theory was confirmed: I am an ugly person, an impatient, snarky beast when I feel my time is being wasted. The universe is far better off if I knit. I extend more grace, listen better, cut folks more slack, and won’t jump down your wheel-spinning throat (my assessment, not your value) if I have sharp pointy sticks in my hand. I feel like I should have a knitting bag made that says “Really, it’s better this way” emblazened on the front.
Because, really, truly, everyone’s better off if I’ve got my knitting. I bet even sheep agree.