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</div>Last year, I decided to join all the other trendy thirtysomethings and learn to knit. It wasn't my first time trying&mdash;at various points throughout my childhood I attempted to learn using a knitting kit that was my mother's when she was a child. My mom, who never took to knitting, was an avid crocheter before she started working full time. That, too, I tried to learn. But manual dexterity has never been my strong suit&mdash;nor has sticking with anything I don't master instantly.

Surprisingly, I did practice knitting long enough to learn the basics, and last Christmas I knit many scarves. One too many, it seems. The scarf I began that was supposed to be one of James's birthday presents (due at the end of January) remained unfinished until about a week ago (it's there in the photo, a couple of weeks from completion). Burnout was one cause of my long knitting hiatus; the other was that knitting, as it turns out, is an expensive hobby. A few weeks ago, I finally picked up the needles again and finished the scarf. That done, began contemplating my next project. 

I cannot reveal the nature of the next project, since I'm planning to whip up a slew of these to give as Christmas gifts, and I don't want to ruin the surprise (ha). I should qualify "I'm planning to whip up a slew of these": If it so happens that I am actually able to produce this object, I plan to make several to give as gifts. This morning I encountered a slight setback, a head-on collision with the limits of my knitting prowess. While I've become pretty good at knitting and purling (stockinette stitch is my friend), I am awful at fixing mistakes. So this morning, I made a mess of things when I added a new ball of yarn. The next thing I knew, I had dropped a stitch three rows back. After that, it's all a blur. In the end I sat there dazed, a pile of formerly knitted yarn at my feet. Looks like I'll be starting over again&mdash;AGAIN. 