From an early age, I wanted to knit. My grandmothers often knit hats, sweaters, or scarves for family members and I remember admiring their work. I understood that knitting was an interesting and worthwhile activity and wanted in on the fun. Unfortunately, my hands didn't quite get the memo on fine motor skills and appropriate tension. 

My mother and I tried in vain to learn to knit, wanting to conquer it like many other crafts we easily picked up- clay, beads, candles- you name it, we did it. But without fail, our cast on stitches would strangle the needle and within a few rows I couldn't squeeze my acrylic needle through the deathgrip of acrylic craft store yarn. Processed plastic on processed plastic is not an encouraging sound.

Foiled, I gave up on knitting, and its equally disastrous cohort crocheting. I busied myself with books and other crafts for many years, but none really held my interest for more than a few projects. Then, like a doctor in a telephone box, came yarn.