A childhood confession about hats.

I can’t really say how long I’ve been knitting. I remember learning from either my mother or grandmother when I was wee. At that point in time knitting didn’t seem as captivating as other things do to a 6 year old. Then I had a knitting spree in college, but it was only to the effect of knitting scarves. I couldn’t even bring myself to attempt a hat, which by all accounts is a much faster and therefore more satisfying project. Most recently I have been knitting fairly consistently for 1.5 years, and I have just started knitting hats.


This is my second hat… ever, and it only took me a day. No really, all day. Good thing this weekend was spent house sitting and feeding a pack of rowdy dogs and making sure the sheep were in the proper pen and, well, that was about it. So on Saturday, after some coffee, I sat down and knit a hat. It’s officially a beret, which I was somewhat apprehensive about due to a well-intentioned but downright ridiculous hat collection I had growing up. I think at one point I had a Rastafarian beret, which may have been the subconscious reason I have been opposed to them for sometime. Anyway, the hat involved a lot of cabling and necessitated blocking over a dinner plate to give the hat the beret look instead of the gnome look.

What’s next you might ask? I received 9 hanks of yarn in the mail today and will begin knitting a sweater for Nic that I’ve been threatening to knit for some time now. That should keep me busy and out of trouble.

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