Purl, 1 – Lucy, 0

So I started a knitting class last week.

I know, I know. This does not sound like me, but it actually is something I’ve been interested in for awhile.

Plus, despite popular belief, its not a totally grandma thing to do. You always read about people like Julia Roberts killing time on movie sets by knitting. So, see? It’s glamorous!

(Maybe it would be more glamorous if I were on a movie set.)

Anyhoo, I started this class last week and I must admit, I was pretty impressed with myself. I picked up “casting on” quite quickly, I successfully finished my homework before the next class (we’re working on a scarf) and it looked pretty good. Overall I was feeling pretty confident about myself and my knitting abilities.

And then last night we learned to purl.

No, wait, the teacher TAUGHT purling. I did NOT learn it. I got home last night and started working on my “purling” homework and my scarf now looks like a crazy cat got a hold of it.

I’m so annoyed. Purling is not hard; it’s basically just the opposite of the knit stitch we learned last week, but I cannot make my mind and hands get it.

And it’s DRIVING. ME. CRAZY!

Ricky kept telling me to relax last night, that the class is supposed to be fun, blah, blah, BLAH!

Has he met me? I am a perfectionist. Nothing is fun to me unless I’m doing it well (preferably better than everyone else.) And that ain’t happenin’ this go-round.

I don’t like it.