Therapy knitting -- again
Many years ago, my grandmother tried to teach me to knit. After a tortuous month, she gave up, repossessed the knitting needles, and pulled out the embroidery supplies. My daydreaming childhood self was much better at embroidery. One needle, no dropped stitches. You understand, don't you?
In the early 1990s, I picked up the knitting needles again at the urging of my physical therapist. I'd lost much of the use of my hands due to repetitive motion injuries. It was therapy, so I concentrated on doing it right. It took some time and effort, but my hands gradually got better and so did my stitches. That time, the knitting habit stuck. As my knitting skills grew, I graduated to lace knit wool shawls, socks, and sweaters.
Then, this summer, along came the big, black steer that refused to get into the stock trailer. While that might seem to be completely unrelated to knitting, it's the steer's fault I haven't knitted in months. Sort of. The short version of the story is I wasn't careful enough, a rope slipped, and three fingers on my left hand were pinched so badly I thought I might suffer permanent nerve damage. I still have some small numb spots, but I can type normally again and do all sorts of things that require moderate finger agility. But knit? Not so much. I'm back where I started, knitting dishcloths for physical therapy and gradually recovering my fine motor skills.
And the steer? He's gone on to a better place.