I’ve always been fascinated by people who choose to live in harsh environments, like the Arctic Circle, the Sahara Desert, or a city without a Starbucks. Not that I’m soft or anything—I’ve actually seen one of these up close, and almost used it. But the older I get, the less inclined I am to go out of my way to be uncomfortable.
Golden Apples has a friend who lived waaay up north, near the Arctic Circle. While she and I seem to share the same aversion to changing the litter box, the similarities most likely end there. The cold climate probably doesn’t faze her; I would mostly likely be miserable and want to spend every waking moment knitting warm things to wear. She, on the other hand, sounds like a very responsible person. I’m sure if she owned a dog, she’d take way better care of it than I would:
Dog: Put down the damn knitting and take me out!
Me: What do you mean? I just took you out yesterday. I’m right in the middle of a row! Grow some thumbs and let yourself out!
But I like to think I’m not a total wuss. While “experience more pain and suffering” is something I crossed off my bucket list years ago, I do try to stretch myself, and learn new things. I want my knitting to reflect that, but many times, I find myself taking the easy way out. I see a photo of a cute hat and sprint on over to Ravelry and look for a pattern. Why not just cast on and try to do it myself? Put on the big-girl panties and go for it. What’s the worst that can happen? I frog a bunch of times until I come up with something I like. Lots easier than walking a dog in the tundra.
I don’t consider sites such as Ravlery to be a crutch, though. I’ve gained so much knowledge from so many of the knitters who hang out there. It’s bound to rub off sooner or later. One day I’ll write those patterns myself, and hopefully be brave enough to post them, but I’ll always look to the Golden Apples of the world—they inspire and teach. Then there are all the new knitting friends I’ve made—but that’s another post.