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First day of snow on the ground that has actually stuck.
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Over the weekend I tried knitting for the first time. I am now close to 3/4 done a large scarf (I'm going for a blanket scarf).
My mother was big on crochet, and tried teaching me when I was very young in some twisted singular attempt to partake in the tear jerking tradition of mothers imparting domestic wisdom on their daughters. She was not a very good teacher. Unless teaching involves ridicule and belittling.
I do everything crafty and handy under the sun regardless of gender assignment, but I have always refused anything involving yarn. That was my mother's territory and I had no interest in even remotely associating myself with her. But my need to be self-sufficient has finally outdone my need to protect myself from the bad feelings I have associated with the repetative hand movements of yarn over a needle and I decided fuck this I'm going to learn and I'm going to make a scarf. Maybe eventually a hat.
Knitting: a small act of rebellion.