Square One
Square One gets a bad rap.
Starting at Square One means you’re in the unfortunate position of having to begin at the very beginning, with no head start, no short cuts, and no fast track to where you want to go.
When your grand plans fall apart, whether they be a new project, a career, or world domination, it’s back to Square One.
For my fellow English language geeks who want a side quest, here’s an article suggesting the negative connotations of the phrase come from that sadistic nightmare disguised as a children’s game, Snakes (Chutes on this side of the pond) and Ladders. I said what I said.
Anyway, I’ve been spending some time with Square One (Squares One? Square Ones?) this week. My first knitted projects of the year have literally been squares. And some of them have been the first squares of the sample blanket I’m making for the upcoming conventions where we’ll be sharing the Beast to Blanket curriculum.
Last year I wound off several skeins and dyed them with Kool Aid, just as we do during the class (you can access the free sample of this lesson here). This week I started knitting the squares for the sample class project blanket that will be part of the booth displays.
Sadly, mine won’t have the charming personal quirks of the squares knit by students learning to knit for the first time. I’m going to have a few that aren’t the “right” size to hopefully give the idea of how lovely an imperfect corporate learning project can be. I’ll have pictures of genuine class project blankets to share as well, but we thought a Beast to Blanket booth really needed a blanket. So, Square One.
But before that project got started, I sat down to knit for the first time in over three weeks. What did I reach for? Dishcloth cotton and the size 7 needles. Simple, basic, comfortable. Square One.
We’re setting up the little house in the small town. There’s no dishwasher in the little kitchen. I am the dishwasher. I needed some dishcloths. It’s a different kind of Square One, but a similar idea, just with a more positive spin. We’re starting at the beginning in this little place with new routines, new work, and a new environment. It’s going to be an adventure seeing what the next squares hold.
Interestingly, I’m in a unique position of being a bit limited in what I’m even able to knit at the moment. Like my sad new 2026 planner, the stash is in the other house. The one I’m not in at the moment. I don’t have unlimited possibilities of what I can knit or crochet or spin. I have a few knitting needles with me, Greg’s sweater in progress, the yarn for the Beast to Blanket class blanket sample, dishcloth cotton, and a skein of wool left over from my Walker’s Ridge Pullover. Why I grabbed that last item on my way out the door I can’t remember. Maybe it’ll come to me later?
In any case, it’s a different sort of Square One, isn’t it? No stacks of skeins full of potential, no bags or baskets with partially finished projects I could pick up, just a few possibilities and an opportunity to focus on them alone. It’s surprisingly refreshing.
When it’s time to knit, I’m not going to be stymied with decision fatigue. I’ll have more options for where I sit than what I knit, and spoiler alert, this is a really tiny house.
I may find that I really enjoy this.
Greg’s Got Questions
Thank you to those of you who participated in the poll last week!
The winning question was: What makes using a physical notebook better for you compared to digital methods? Since I know you do use both at times, how do you bridge the gap and get the most out of both options?
Oh, this is going to “out” one of my biggest trust issues in the world. Ready? Here we go.
I do not trust the cloud. I know that makes me a Luddite*.
I completely understand why sharing online calendars and to-do lists is helpful, especially when working with others. I comprehend that paper gets lost, ruined, and is less easily edited. I don’t need education on this. These are the reasons I do any of these things online ever at all.
But, given my own personal preferences, I would keep everything in notebooks, planners, scraps of paper, and piles of lists. Because I can see them, touch them, shuffle them around, and have the tactile satisfaction of creating them, crossing off items, or trashing them when I’m done with them.
Electronic things just go “poof.” And sometimes they do, and you simply cannot find them again. Ever.
Additionally, there’s no scratch of pen on paper as you write things down or cross them off. There’s no creativity in arranging lists with color or different handwriting styles or personal notes or symbols of emphasis. There’s no personality in a Google calendar or an Outlook to-do list. They’re soulless.
I do realize my opinion is a bit over the top on this issue. But you asked.
*For the hilariously appropriate, ironic, and fiber-related origin of this technology-phobic term, please see this article.
Greg’s Questions for This Week:
Here are the questions up for the vote this week. I’ll answer the winner in the next newsletter. (As a matter of procedure, the poll function takes you to another page to submit your vote, so if that happens to you, you’re on the right track!)
Question 1: If I follow your logic from your statement, “a Beast to Blanket booth really needed a blanket”, are you considering taking a Beast with us to the conventions? I read the story of how Francis Chester-Cestari of Cestari Sheep & Wool Company (https://www.cestarisheep.com/) used to take his sheep with him into Macy’s to sell their yarn, but I’m not sure Mr. Darcy is quite ready for that. Although the Babydolls are pretty small and Mr. Bingley is generally pretty well behaved…
Question 2: Since you started crocheting and knitting, what’s the longest break you’ve taken from doing any fiber arts project?
Question 3: If you were to knit squares that were more like those created by brand-new knitters, how would you go about doing that? I suspect it would be very difficult for an experienced knitter like you to intentionally do things the wrong way like a beginner might.
Happy knitting,
Kiersten J
