Spinnin' A Yarn
A few days ago, I tried to teach my mother how to knit. She was inspired to learn by the current eyelash scarf trend. We searched two craft stores for knitting needles and yarn. Materials are scarce since knitting has become a hot trend. When we finally found materials, I told her that she should start on a thicker yarn and, once she got the hang of knitting, she could move to the eyelash yarn.
I doubt she'll make it that far.
I went over to Marlene's on Wednesday. She gathered together her new needles and yarn. I told her to sit next to me on the couch.
Mom: I don't want to sit next to you.
Me: It's easier for me to teach you if you are right here.
Mom: Blah.
Me: Okay, you start by casting on eighteen stitches. See? *I watched her cast on a few stitches* I think you are casting on too tight, Mom.
Mom: I'm fine!
Me: You're not fine! You can't get the other needle in the loop if you do that.
After casting on the 18 stitches, she attempted to knit.
Mom: I can't get the needle through the loops; they're too tight.
Me: I told you so.
I helped her out a bit. She managed to knit one row. We counted the stitches to make sure she had 18. She was fine. I then showed her how to switch hands and knit the second row.
As she labored on her next set of 18 stitches, I worked on my own knitting project. I was through my second row, by the time she finished.
Mom: Now what?
Me: Count your stitches to check your gauge.
Mom: *counting* I have 20 stitches.
Me: Well...I guess that's okay. You can always integrate them into the next row so you'll end up with eighteen again.
Mom proceeded onto the third row. I continued on my scarf. When she finished, she counted her stitches to check her gauge.
Mom: I have 21 now.
Me: Mom, you just can't keep adding loops.
Mom: The yarn is stupid. I can do what I want.
Me: No, you can't. If you keep adding loops, your scarf is gonna go from being six inches wide to being, like, six feet. No one has a neck shaped like that!
Mom: *defensively* I can do what I want!
I had to go meet a friend for coffee. I told her I would call her later to check up on her progress.
Since I ended up running errands after coffee, I didn't get a chance to check on my mom. I assumed the knitting was going fine since I never received a call of panic on my cell phone.
That evening, I ran into my brother, Matt, at the Penny Arcade. We were both there to catch Peter's band.
Matt: So, did you see Mom has a new hobby? She's knitting.
Me: Yeah, I know. I taught her.
Matt: She said you yelled at her about adding loops. She's making her scarf too wide.
Me: Yeah. At the rate she's going, she's gonna hafta hope the Elephant Man rises from the dead. He's the only person who can wear that scarf.
I was pretty proud of my mom for sticking out the knitting. Sometimes, she gets frustrated at crafts and quits. She seemed to be doing well at the knitting.
Then the call came Friday morning.
Mom: *distressed* Guess what happened to my knitting?
Me: What?
Mom: It got set on fire.
Me: HOW DO YOU SET KNITTING ON FIRE?
Mom: Your brother was being stupid, so I had to get up to check on the dog. I set the needles and the knitting down. I had lit a candle on the table in front of my chair. When I came back, your brother was putting out the fire.
Me: We should have bought the aluminum needles instead of plastic. We're not gonna be able to find that stuff again.
Mom: Yup. It's burned to a crisp. The end of the needle is black and melted in a curve. It's still by my chair if you want to see it.
Me: No, that's okay.
Mom: And I was back down to 20 stitches! I started at 18, then was up to 21, then 22 and I just figured out how to get back down to 20.
Me: You'll have to start over again.
Mom: It's a shame I can't save it.
Since Matt told me mom had been knitting all Tuesday and my mom was upset that she couldn't save it, I was under the impression that she had about six inches or more of scarf knitted.
Me: How long was the scarf?
Mom: About two inches.
Note: I happened to go over to Marlene's on Friday evening to pick up some stuff. Out of curiousity, I ferretted out the needle by her chair. The tip of it was charcoal and curved, reminding me of the Wicked Witch of the East's feet in The Wizard of Oz when the house drops on her and her feet curl up.
At this rate, she'll never make it to the eyelash yarn.
