We all poke fun at those quirky little behaviors unique to knitters. But when I caught myself doing what I'd always laughed off as an over-exaggeration, well wow! Yes indeedy, I am a true knitter.
I've always considered myself an "observant" knitter. Somewhat of a cop out, or so says my hubby. "Only a knitter!" - his words. When admiring a sweater in a small Scotland shop, rather than recognizing its beauty, I turned it inside out to see how it was constructed. When at a Beavers football game, I paid more attention to the multitude of knitted hats (noting which were obviously mass machine produced) than the game on the field. While watching Olympic snowboarding the other night, I found myself rewinding; not so I could re-watch the event, but to take notes on a parent's cool USA hat so as to reproduce it. But yesterday, I bested my long standing and well defined weird knitterly behaviors.
I was putting on a new pair of socks I'd gotten for Christmas. A lovely pair of cream colored Gansies. As I pulled the first sock over my toe, I paused, admiring the stitch pattern. "Hmm, I could make these." I found myself counting stitches, conjuring up yarn possibilities, and searching for my knitter's graph paper. And today, after wearing them but before running them through the washer (yuck - but I couldn't risk losing any stitch definition), I sat down and sketched out the motif. A 21 stitch repeat. And a 10-11 stitch gauge. Oh my, that means itty bitty needles again. That's right. Instead of just enjoying a new pair of socks, I went into deconstruct mode and wrote a pattern. Now to cast on.
Alas, I am an odd ball. But that's OK. I am most comfortable in this knitter's skin, looking at life a little differently because of my unique talent. Hooray for knitters and a sui generis twist on life.