Pollyanna

My latest attempt at a hobby has been nothing that I had conned myself into believing it would be like. I thought knitting would be relaxing, creative and possibly an untapped talent I possess. I took a class last fall and aced it. I bought lots of beautiful yarn and managed to make a bag for my best friend, and a few dishclothes. I feel like Don Music from Sesame Street, banging my head against the table out of irritation.



Maybe I cheerfully overestimated my domestic abilities. I am no Pollyanna. Does Pollyanna yell "fuck" when she drops stitches on a baby hat, and then takes all the stitches out and starts over? I am thinking that maybe I need to do more off the beaten path knitting, and not get so hung up about patterns. I love all the colors and textures of the yarn. I would just really like to make something, and be okay with it.