Knit happened when…

I started knitting while in Brownies[1], aided and abetted by my Grandmother who was Über-skilled in the craft. She got me my first yarn (a godawfulworstedsomething in traffic-cone orange – I swear, you could see it from space) and needles. I quickly earned my knitting badge and then dropped knitting like third-period French for the next 25 years.

For reasons too complicated to explain, I found myself living in the bush country of Northern Ontario (in Jaffray Mellick – now merged borg-style with Kenora – to be precise). Bored, without cable, satellite dish or other meaningful distractions, I bought yarn, needles and a pattern. One crappy boat-neck sweater later, I was hooked. I now live in Regina, Saskatchewan. I’m very, very, very happily married to the most understanding guy on Earth; I mean, who else would permit a person to have five cats and a stash that takes up not one but several rooms and half a dozen cupboards, storage tubs and drawers?

Now…
I have a day job as a civil servant; evenings are mine to knit or spin until I get tired or the cats become irksome and start stealing the yarn.

[1] According to their own website, “Brownies is the place to go for continued doses of fun.” Doses?  Sounds like they’re being drugged as in “Here’s a little fun, make it last. You’ve been given just enough to take the edge off; don’t come crying to me if you start jonesing.’