While I sit and knit in public it is inevitable that a stranger will approach and comment or question. I won't go through the litany of inane questions that are frequently asked knitters (the Yarn Harlot takes care of that a lot better than I ever could). But the one that is asked of me that always gives Christopher a giggle is--"Doesn't that take an awful lot of patience?". Chris' giggle comes from this idea that I could be a patient person in any way, I'm not now, nor will I ever be prone to being patient (I like to say that lack of patience, like the rest of my possibly perceived "shortcomings" are part of my charm).
So I give my patented response- knitting doesn't take patience. It's not like painting, where you are trying to complete a very integrated whole, that the individual actions aren't complete units in and of themselves.
In knitting, although I like every other knitter when asked to stop knitting and move on to another task or event "just let me finish this row (round, sock, ad infinitum...)" it is actually possible to stop.
With every stitch you have completed something. It is a finite action in itself- a knit stitch, a purl stitch, a yarn-over. And it has all those lovely mini goals that can keep the need for patience down (just the same as the "just let me finish"- the row, the round, the pattern repeat, the sock, the back of a sweater).
For myself this past week I have finally found the place where I've had to be patient. After much procrastination (I am the queen of procrastination when it comes to things not "work" related)- I finally submitted my "Secret Knitting" to Interweave. Now I have to WAIT! I have to wait, and show a little decorum, a little patience, a little of that inner Zen I do not possess (for those of you that don't know me well- I am not in possession of Zen, I cannot quiet my mind- I won't take Yoga class for that very reason- all the meditating just gets me agitated, okay-- more agitated).
So here I sit and wait, I knit, I cook, and I wait.
