How Did *This* Happen??

Convention has never been my particular cup of tea. Even though the outer trappings of my life fall pretty well within the boundaries of what might be expected for a 41-year-old woman, I've never cottoned much to traditional roles or beliefs. Having grown up in a family where the men worked and the women raised children, this sometimes confounded my parents. I have youthful recollections of philosophical discussions with my mother that ended with her giving me a quizzical look that just begged to know who the hell's nest I fell out of. Fortunately, it didn't get too much in the way of general life in our household, although every time I was assigned a task that smelled of a woman's job, I rebelled loudly and--my mother says--annoyingly. One of my favorite replies in these situations was, "Why don't you ask the booooooooys to do it??" It's truly a wonder she didn't kill me.

Suffice it to say that, whether by design or through pure genetic lottery, I never took to the domestic arts of cooking, sewing, or beautifying a home. I was probably too busy ranting about what the boooooooys were (or weren't) doing when I could have been learning a few valuable skills at my mother's side. Later in life, of course, I realized what a dumbass I'd been and kicked myself for being so darn principled and unappreciative. But, as my sister says in times of great turmoil and personal pain..."Oh, well."

Given this history, you can imagine how surprised I was when I recently made this:

Yes, folks, that's knitting. Knitting, I tell you! And not just any knitting, but a ribbed knit on size 6 (U.S.) circular needles. Friends, the only reason I didn't flunk home ec in the 7th grade was that my teacher took one look at my sweaty brow and pathetic attempts to pin the arm in right side up on my sewing project that she just...couldn't...do it. Bless her heart, I couldn't have been one bit happier to see that D on my report card.

So what the hell am I doing knitting now, at this point in my life??! Well, I don't know, but as it turns out, I like it. Every time I pick up the needles, though, there's a part of me that looks guiltily around to make sure no one's watching. I love doing it, but it just feels weird and out of place in my hands, like I'm some kind of a wolf in sheep's clothing (Ha! A knitting joke! Okay, that was so lame that it hurt me to write it, but heaven knows I can't resist a bad pun. I'm sorry.).

My mother and I have a saying: "Surprises along the way." It's meant to capture all the unexpected twists and turns of our lives, desired or otherwise. Knitting fits into this category for me. It was never, ever something that I imagined myself doing. And yet it brings me a surprising satisfaction as well as a restful peace that I simply can't get in other ways.

So there you have it, in all its strangeness. Wicked knits, just like Andy. I hope you have something in your life that brings you the thrill of creation. As for me, I gotta go make me some more poof balls now.