Do you ever have an after-the-fact realization that, once you’ve seen it, you are surprised you never noticed it before? I had such a moment the other evening while buying, probably an unnecessary yet still needed
, new round knitting needle.
I tend to tuck my knitting needles into bags with a few spools of yarn, running off to the park, or the beach, or the who-knows-where I think they might prove handy to bide my otherwise lovely time, but fill in the edges of feeling useful. I think most of the people who tend to knit or crochet, love the yarn and the experience, but also love the feeling of having something to do when they are just sitting and waiting, or chatting, or watching a movie, or something where not too much visible forward productivity is happening. Anyway, with all that chatter finished, I was at the fabric store late in the evening and found the perfect yarn for a project I had high on my list for making. The yarn’s package said it took size nine, American needles, so being that I often can’t find which needles I am looking for at which exact moment, I decided a new pair would not hurt my projects likeliness of actually being executed . . . But nines looked so
big, and as my eyes stretched across the sizing options, I decided sixes were my perfect match. Well, as I picked them up I also realized I always pick sixes, or perhaps sevens. They are the size needles that feel right in my fingers and look right to my eyes. Even thicker yarn tends to work best for me with this size needle.
I am a relatively loose knitter, so maybe this is why. Anyway, I have probably bought this same size needle eighty-percent of my needle-buying career. Does anyone else have a favorite knitting needle size? Maybe everyone loves size sixes . . .
I had a similar thing happen when I was a teenager. I always disliked orange, I never could understand how someone’s eyes could view it as pretty.
To me it was a road construction color, orange cones and orange vests . . . I still don’t like that shade of it, it is so extreme and flat, but at the time I didn’t even like winter squash orange. Then slowly, creeping-up-on-me-ish, when I was put to make a color choice, I’d pick orange.
I don’t know where it started. I think of a blanket I was given in particular where the orange-ness was so warm and complete, perhaps that had its influence.
I guess that it is called learning about yourself . . . hmm . . . ~ Marica