knitting

I decided that I needed to knit something this week. As I was knitting, I thought about the woman who taught me to knit. Her name was Doreen Wanlass. I was a Beehive, and she was our leader. We knitted slippers. Mine were blue.

It seemed to me that all the mothers could knit. But when I talked with my mom about my project, she looked at me as if I was speaking to her in a foreign language with what I will describe as a pity/panic expression. I suppose now that it was pity because she could see I was a bit desperate and panic because she couldn't do anything to help me. I had dropped a stitch several rows back. The loop was just hanging there looking precarious. The following week, Sister Wanlass told me not to worry about it. Just to finish the slippers and then give them to her to put together. When my friends asked me about the loop, I just acted like it wasn't that big of a deal, because indeed, at that time, I didn't think that it was...or at least, I hoped that it wasn't.

In our ward there was a beautiful girl who I can only remember as "the Merrill girl" because everyone was called by their last names when refered to in conversation. Her mother could knit anything. She knit her a big bulky sweater about every other week. They were very "in", and she wore them with her 5" long pencil skirts. How I envied her beautiful sweaters!

I finished my slippers and gave them to Sister Wanlass, who was very slow sewing the slippers up and returning them to me. I wore them for a couple of years and thought they were the greatest slippers in the world. I don't know what happened to that loop. It just disappeared.

Thank you, Sister Wanlass. I have become a better knitter over the years and have enjoyed all the the projects that I have made because you helped me to be successful.

And now...I am teaching Brianna how to knit