I have a good friend who makes all these lovely things: Scandinavian mittens, hats for babies, stockings for Christmas, finger-less gloves for friends, booties for newborns, socks for family and much much more.  She has graciously volunteered to teach knitting to Lona and started a club to make it fun.  As the mother, I take her to knitting club and before I knew it, I had a pair of needles and a ball of yarn in my hand making the same hat as Lona.  I knitted, I purled, I slipped, and yarn overed and knitted together.  I even cabled.  I went to the yarn store and gasp, bought more yarn.  I casted on, and casted off.  I even put these little circles between stitches and made finger-less gloves.  I made a cowl and a scarf and leg warmers.  I even signed up for a free online site so that I can peruse patterns and knit the free ones.  I left my knitting projects somewhere between the elementary school, dentist, doctor, and ice rink and I had dreams about not finding it. Yet I decided I was not a knitter.  I have a project on the needles, and carry a zip-lock bag around with said project. I even have a label on my blog dedicated to knitting. I may have to recant that statement but the verdict is still out.  I may indeed be a knitter.