The column on the left of this page is the Knit List: the catalog of knitting skills I've already tried (dare I say, mastered), the ones I have yet to attempt, and other fun stuff to accomplish (knitting in public, using recycled yarn, etc.). BUT (I like big buts and I cannot lie) there is one item that I feel sure will never, ever, evereverevereverever be completed.
S · T · E · E · K · I · N · G
NO. Never. No.
"Steek" rhymes with "Eek!" and I can't think that's a coincidence. It has 80% of its letters in common with "Steak," but while the latter fills me with meaty goodness, the former fills me with dread. Eunny Jang dedicated seven full blog posts to the subject. In Knitting Without Tears, Elizabeth Zimmermann suggests that one "lie down in a darkened room for fifteen minutes to recover" (p61) after cutting armholes for the first time. Wendy Johnson calls cutting "the fun part" in her Knitty feature "You want me to cut WHAT?"; I'm inclined never to trust her again... even if she does indicate a "celebratory margarita" as the proper way to observe the occasion.
Clearly, this is scary business. And I haven't the stomach for it.
|No steeks here. Oh heck no.|
The most obvious reason for my steek strike is my love of superwash merino. In fact, a bad experience with felting (maybe maybe I'll write about it sometime, if I'm ever feeling especially masochistic) has led me away from most yarns that lend themselves to this sort of thing.
What it really comes down to is this: I can enjoy a libation and a lie-down without experiencing sheer terror beforehand, thankyouverymuch. Life's scary enough as it is without bring renegade scissors into it.