Cindy Mallette: On the Scene

Knit, knit, purl, purl, pur- "Rrrrgh!"

Knit, purl, knit, knit- "Knaargh!"

Knit, knit, knot, tangle, twist -"Enough!"

Recently, at the urging of my crafty and talented mother, I picked up a "Learn to Knit" book. It came with everything I needed: needles, instructions and Aspirin.

I'm kidding about the Aspirin, but it would have been nice. Learning a new skill is tough. It's fraught with trouble.

It took me a full day to learn casting on, which means getting the base stitches onto the needles so I can start knitting.

I felt like a toddler learning to walk: The needles felt awkward in my hands. The yarn slipped off my fingers. The loops pulled off of the needles. The yarn tangled around my hands, my feet and my cat (who insists my lap is THE place to be when I'm knitting).

My mother-in-law, who lives with my husband and me, just laughed. To her, watching me cast on a few stitches, then pull them all off the needles, then cast on again, was more fun than watching "Walker - Texas Ranger."

"You're gonna keep going?" she asked on my second day of knitting.

"Yep," I replied.

"After all that trouble you've been having?"

"Yes."

I've never been one to give up. Ever-the-optimist, I believe (sometimes to stupid extents) that a situation will never stay difficult. At some point, things will get better.

I always look back to my junior high track years. I ran the 100-meter hurdles, but I wasn't good. I only ran in a couple of races in the eighth grade, and in my last race, I fell on the second hurdle. I finished the race, red-faced and yards behind the other runners. I cried.

The coach came to me at school the next day and said, "I don't think the hurdles are right for you. Maybe you should try something else."

I wasn't good at the hurdles, but I was worse at everything else.

I was a little naive, too. I didn't get her hint that I should quit track, so in ninth grade, I showed up to the first day of practice. I don't remember if the coach was surprised, but I went to that practice and every other one that year. I improved, but I still wasn't great.

But the naivety, and particularly the practice, paid off. By senior year, I was the top hurdler on the team. I placed second in the district track meet and competed in the regional meet. That year, I earned my athletics letter-jacket.

I don't think I'm gifted with tenacity (a word I learned in high school track), but if I want something, I work for it.

In high school, I pictured myself winning medals. Now, I picture myself wearing the luxurious cashmere sweater I'll stitch together with my two needles.

I actually had extra motivation to keep learning to knit: my sister became pregnant with twins! I could knit them clothes, and chances are they'd wear them.

Babies aren't picky, and most of the patterns for baby hats, booties and blankets are ridiculously simple.

I also don't know if I've got the patience to knit grownup-sized articles of clothing yet. Fear creeps in from time to time, and I think, "I don't have the time. I'd mess it up. I can't read the pattern," (which looks an awful lot like instant-message-speak: k1, ssk, k2tog, yo).

But I've got a plan:

I start with a basic skill, like knitting a scarf. Then, I move to something harder that involves one or two new techniques.

If I keep going in this way, with small accomplishments, the complicated projects won't seem so overwhelming.

I also get embarrassed. It's not that knitting itself is embarrassing, but since I've finished a few projects and figure I'm becoming good (if I do say so myself), I've become a bit obsessed.

A co-worker caught me looking at a knitting Web site a few weeks ago. She looked at me and put her fingers, shaped like an "L," up to her forehead.

Funny as it was, I wondered, "Am I the only 24-year-old with yarn on the brain?"

No. There's a world of 20- and 30-somethings picking up sticks and making some very glamorous, un-granny-squared knit and crocheted items.

Another of my sisters, who's a year younger than me, has been crocheting for several years now. She's been a great encouragement.

I also learned recently that a group of knitters meets weekly at the Barnes and Noble in Tyler. A community of like-minded yarn lovers would help as I build up my skills.

Knitting is a lot like life: it takes patience, desire and encouragement.

I'll keep clicking my needles together until I finish that scarf, even if I've had to rip back the stitches a hundred times to fix mistakes.

Like life, you just don't quit when you fall down; you get up and finish the race.

Cindy Mallette
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