I'm reading Knitting Heaven and Earth, by Susan Gordon Lydon. The book is a memoir, made all the more poignant because Ms. Lydon died earlier this year.

I read this last night, which I loved:

There are knitters who put a lot of restrictions on their knitting lives. They work on only one project at a time; they make sure it has a practical purpose; they are careful not to spend too much money on materials.

There are probably as many types of knitters as there are stitch patterns for knitting, but I am not of the puritanical mind-set that believes in limiting pleasure in my creative life. The structural constrictions of making a three-dimensional garment from a flat piece of thread are limitation enough as far as I'm concerned.

So I indulge every whim, spend any amount of money to get the yarn I want, let the knitter within get away with murder, metaphorically speaking. I abandon projects in midstream, experiment freely, do what I want, when I want, and hang the consequences. I want the knitter in me to be as free, wild, artistic, and creative as she has the desire to be. Knitting is where I give the wild woman inside me free rein. If she wants to be the wise woman as well, that's fine; if not, also fine. I no longer care that my kitchen cupboards are stuffed with yarn, and my closets with half-finished projects.

I knit with cashmere often because it is kind to my hands, which have endured bouts of tendinitis on and off for years.

At this point in my life I say: Judge me if you dare.