Public knitting

Now that I have occasion to leave the house, I'm knitting where other people - mostly non-knitters - can see me. This is a new, and rather odd experience for me, as I think you'll see in a moment when I get around to the actual story from today.

I have knit in front of strangers only a handful of times. I took my knitting to school twice that I can recall, both times during summer office hours when few people were around; no time and no room in my 80lb bookbag during the rest of the school year. And I was really good about not knitting at my previous job despite all the down time (although knitting was discussed*). Once, I knitted on the D.C. metro on the way home from work, but I was too engrossed in the lace pattern I was screwing up to notice if people were watching.

At the new job, a couple of coworkers have noticed me knitting at my desk on my lunch break and commented. I even got a "that's awesome" from a guy and guys usually don't think that stuff is awesome**. Today, I took my "Seat of my pants" sock (as I'm calling it) to an informational office meeting on the 401(k) plan. Caught a few odd stares, but whatever. Other people doodle, I knit. At least I'm being productive.

But the most interesting experiences so far have been on Max***, I think because it's with strangers. The Max portion of my daily commute is pretty short and space on the train is limited - esp. when you have to stand - but I find a sock to be manageable. So when I'm waiting for a train, or when I'm on the train and don't have to hold onto a strap for balance, I whip out my sock. But unlike when I knitted on the metro, I'm now watching to see if there is a reaction. There is.

Strange things happen when you knit around strangers, I've learned. Beyond the staring, people behave differently around knitting. I find they actually move closer, mostly without even realizing they are doing it. Not that I blame them for this - I would do the same thing. But today - today was the kicker.

I was on the train, knitting, leaning against the wall in a space used for hanging bikes that happened to be vacant when I got on. The train was it's usual mix of Portland - indescribable, but you know what I mean if you've been here - and standing a few feet away I noticed a girl: late teens/early twenties, a couple of piercings, and gorgeous blue-green manic panic dreads. She didn't seem to notice me though. At the Chinatown stop, a man with a bike got on, so I quickly packed in the sock and moved to the center to hold on to the post. As soon as I did, Ms. Blue Green Dreads turned to me with a smile and said:

"You were rocking that sock!"


I burst out laughing. It was so unbelievably cute and unexpected. I'm impressed she actually knew what it was - it's not much more than a toe at this point. Not quite sure how to reply, I just said "Thank you."

ETA: Two people came by my desk today to ask me about the sock I was knitting in the meeting yesterday. One of them said they have a little group in the office that does charity knitting around the holidays. She even keeps the stash for this in her desk and she said I could stop by and see it. :-) Desk stash, it's a good thing.

*Story #1: One of my bosses at my job in D.C. - her name was Laura - used to do a lot of knitting when she was my age and she was elated when she found out I was a knitter. She would bring in the sweaters she made in the 70's to show me. She even tried to teach the girl who replaced me to knit. I don't think that worked out. But anyway, the best Laura/knitting story is the one where she brought in the yarn she had a friend spin from the hair of the prize-winning Shelties she raised. It looked a lot like alpaca, but it smelled like dog. The fur had not been washed prior to spinning. The oils transfered to my hand when I touched it, and then my hand smelled like dog. It was awkward. I miss Laura, she was a wonderful woman and a great boss.

**Story #2 (apparently, I'm in a story-tellin' mood today): Matthew fell for me when he saw me knitting. Seriously. I was sitting in Faculty and Student Services, where I worked, knitting at the desk with my librarian-style reading glasses on. He literally stopped dead in his tracks as he was walking by. He asked if I had "changed". I looked at him like he was an idiot, and I took my glasses off. Then he said "Are you...knitting?!?" Another "are you daft?" look from me. He gave me a dopey smile, a chuckle, and then wandered off. The next day, he went in to see my boss (who was more of a good friend than a traditional boss) to inquire if I was single. Quality men appreciate the knitting.

***(I have been calling Max [Portland's light rail transit system] 'the Metro', and it has to stop. It's a hold-over from my years in D.C. and it makes me sound like a tourist. I grew up here, for cryin' out load.)