I would not call myself a knitter. I am a person who knits.
A knitter, in my mind, thinks constantly about the craft; she ceaselessly eatsdrinksbreathespondersplansanddreamsabout projects; her fingers (when otherwise unoccupied) find themselves attached to knitting needles at any moment and every opportunity. A knitter creates, works on, and completes her projects. She perseveres.
I’m more a “fits and starts’ person who knits, a needtodothisprojectbythisparticulardate person who knits.
I’m not really a knitter.
I learned to knit in early 2012 in a local yarn shop’s beginners’ knitting class. I decided to take the class when I learned I was becoming a grandmother for the very first time. Grandmothers knit, right? So I would learn to knit. This fifty-one-turning-fifty-two-years-old gal was going to learn a new trick.