Six months ago I decided to take up knitting for reasons that remain a mystery to me.

I suppose that on some level it was a form of creative outlet, and the learning process completely monopolized my brain, leaving no room for other things like worrying, stress, worrying about stress, stressing about worrying, and the fact that I hate my job.

Other than that, I have no earthly idea why I all of a sudden said "Knitting! That's the ticket."

Or alternately "And thusly an angel did come unto her (shut up Bruce, and get yer dirty mind out of the gutter) and verily did he say; 'Virginia, go forth and do stuff with yarn and needles.' And so she did."

Since then, I've completed two sweaters for my daughter, at varying levels of success, one sweater for myself, (beautiful, but ultimately way too big and needed to be given away), two scarves for my husband, one scarf for my sister-in-law, one scarf for myself, one scarf for my mother, and one scarf for my daughter, (in case this confuses you, that is a grand total of six scarves. I think. I can't fricken add.) as well as three washcloths.

I currently have two projects on the needles (more posts about them to follow shortly) and am contemplating numerous others.

So far what I've learned about knitting (and myself) is that I love knitting lacy things because they engage my brain, I enjoy both the process and the product equally (I think. This stupid purple sweater I have on the needles might be the exception to the rule) and yarn stores are a new happy place for me.

Also, I love knitting on the subway, and the people that regularly ride the subway with me enjoy watching my projects grow. And I have become that crazy lady on the subway who occasionally starts swearing at her knitting. Especially in the morning. My brain is not a morning person.

And that's all...