Knitting
I've always been a pig-headed, stubborn feminist who wanted people to know that I was no man's domestic slave. I wouldn't be caught dead sewing or knitting or cooking or doing anything else that a patriarchial society might expect of its womenfolk.
In college, a large group of my friends would sit around and crochet blankets in the dorm lounge. I was disgusted by their domesticity, yet intrigued by the quickness of their fingers and the creation of a blanket out of a piece of string. I never let on, though. I watched suspiciously and harbored a secret longing to give it a try. I had no confidence in my ablity to actually do anything crafty, so my ultra-feminist wall served me well.
Fast forward several years.
I was living in Sweden, unemployed and bored. I was basically my worst nightmare: a housewife. I needed to do something to keep me entertained. I thought back on those days in college and realized that crocheting was active enough to keep me entertained, yet it was pretty low-key and didn't take up a lot of room. I had no idea how to do it, so I did what any person of my generation does. I googled it.
Sure enough, you can learn how to crochet online. I wrote down a list of needed supplies, headed off to the craft store and made my first mistakes. I bought the wrong kind of yarn, too many hooks and basically had no clue what I was doing. That didn't stop me. I carefully followed the directions and soon was able to crochet long lines of knots. I just couldn't do anything with them. Step two was too difficult.
"But Carrie," you're saying, "I thought this article was about knitting?"
I'm getting there. Trust me.
I had a really crafty buddy and decided I should ask her for help. She took one look at my string lines and said, "Why do you want to do that? Knitting is so much better!" She took me to the store, helped me buy the required equipment and patiently taught me how to knit.
That was it. Crochet quickly became a dim memory as I fiendishly worked my way through the knit purl knit purl knit purl of my new scarf. I was an ambitious student and had all sorts of things going on--scarves, baby sweaters, pot holders. . .
When I'd get in trouble I'd curse loudly and longly then hop into the car and head over to my friend's house. She'd get me all straightened out with patience and words of encouragement. Knitting was the first craft I ever enjoyed and I think I can attribute it to her. She didn't scold. She didn't call me stupid. She didn't roll her eyes. She just carefully picked out my stitches and fixed things, all the while telling me that mistakes made my work look more handmade and a handmade look is desirable.
Cast out the notion that knitting is for old ladies and bored housewives (my long time impression). If you visit a few blogs you are sure to discover hip, young women (and men!) who love to knit. They don't make boring old cardigans. They make zippy handbags and hats. Their work exudes coolness. Even the name for knitting circles has become hip. Your grandma may have gone to plenty of Stitch-n-Bitches in her day, but I'm sure they weren't actually called that.
So how does one learn this elusive craft? I tried to follow instructions online but that didn't work for me. If you really want to learn, there are a number of places to go. Yarn shops often offer one-on-one classes. Your local senior center might have an older person who would love to teach someone to knit (knitters generally love their craft and love to share it). Of course, you may have to go no further than your own mother or grandmother (or perhaps even father) for lessons. Of course, that can be much more emotionally draining than a complete stranger, so ask a relative for help only if you are sure they can be supportive and don't mind when you let the curses fly.
After you've learned the basics, you'll be able to custom-make beautiful pieces. I recommend beginning with a scarf. If you start now, you'll have it ready in time for the first nip of autumn!