Non-knitters always say to me “you must have patience to be a knitter.” My answer, “No, not really. I have stubbornness, a fairly wicked creative streak, and love having something in my hands.” My knitting helps me relax, it challenges me, it fills up time that I would otherwise annoy the crap out of me (like when your doctor is running an hour late). It’s made me realize that I am an extremely tactile person and yarn gives me an excuse to rub something up against my cheek make a happy noise without being looked at like I’ve grown a second head. But patience? I knit a lot of small things like fingerless gloves and mitts. Even when I am knitting a sweater or a blanket the larger whole is broken down into smaller component parts and every sleeve or square is a victory. I would not exactly call myself patient.
Lace knitters. Lace knitters are where the patience is at. Those knitters have it in spades. I will gush over another knitter’s lace shawl. I will flip through my copy of Victorian Lace Today and be inspired by the beautiful knitted work. I look at the very simple lace shawl that I started in March of 2009 and try to convince myself that it will be finished one day. But, aside from a little bit of lace in a pair of socks, or in something like Ishbel which is really mostly not lace, I am not a lace knitter. It’s not something I can relax and get into the groove of when I’m knitting it. The thought of spending 45 minutes on a single row, and then probably having to rip things out a million times, frustrates me to no end. I bow down to knitters who can overcome these obstacles and who produce those glorious knitted works.
So the answer to the question what do I aspire to is really very simple.