I learned to knit. I wanted something to do when G and I drink. Something I could do with minimum supplies, a dog in my lap, music playing, G telling me about his day and wine. So I thought a ball of wool and needles.
My grandmother was a knitter. She never touched a drink; knit without looking down at her needles. I would channel this woman.
I lose interest in things easily so I thought I will knit a small creature. I downloaded a pattern, bought wool and needles. I loved the idea of knitting something with a face.
A month later G is still saying to me ‘It ain’t going to drink itself’ while I have three needles with four stitches each on my lap and I am trying to figure out how to knit a leg. I had channeled my grandmothers abstinence.
I kept at it with spritzers and a scarf instead of a leg. Finally I could knit with my wine straight up. I’ve mastered the three needle leg thing finally, I can do that with gin and Perrier. I stopped channeling my grandmother, she was interfering with my drinking.
‘Mister Jingles a spirit divined with spirits’