One of my favorite parts of knitting is the rush I get when I start a new project. The clack of needles as I cast on and the feel of new yarn rushing through my fingers.
My poor fiance is frequently subjected to my surge of excitement—usually in the form of me calling for him to come and look at my (sweater/ hat/shawl, etc). Invariably, this occurs just after I’ve completed one of the first few rows. Like a toddler with her crayon scribble family portrait, I’ll proudly direct him to look at my fledgling project. (“See the Hat? Can’t you tell it’s going to be an awesome hat?”) He’ll admire my mass of freshly created yarn loops—sometimes he’ll even muster up a nod or a somewhat befuddled noise of appreciation. We both know that I don’t actually expect him to see the hat (sweater/shawl/monster doll); it’s enough that I know what it will be, I just need to enthuse to someone outside of my head for a little bit. In a few days (weeks/months/three years later when I find it in the stash and finish it) Daniel will look at it again, and this time his nod will be grander, his noise less befuddled. (He is really fantastic about reacting to my projects.)
This exuberance has only increased now that I’ve started designing my own patterns. It’s no longer just yarn loops that I show off—no, sir. Now I have random letters and charts with strange symbols. He takes it in stride, being one of the best of men.
But today…today I’m going to give him a break.
Look! See the shirt! Doesn’t it look like it’s going to be a great shirt?!!!?