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I recently listened to a podcast in which Trish Malcolm interviewed Cecelia Campochiaro, author of Sequence Knitting. Trish Malcolm often begins her interviews by asking her guest how they got into knitting. Campochiaro said that it was not her mother, but the mother of a friend who taught her to knit. Apparently Campochiaro's mother had been forced to major in home economics in college and bore deep resentment against domestic arts.
I can totally see that. Even activities we genuinely enjoy lose all their charm
My son, Colton, likes a girl at school. He'd like to ask her out for coffee or something but he is terrified.
"This is so hard," he moans.
"What's so hard?" I wonder, "Pick up the phone and call, I mean text and see if she'd like to get coffee." These are simple words, simple concepts.
"Did you text her?"
"Are you going to?"
"Maybe. I dunno. Probably not"
"What if she says no?"
Aaah, the crux of the matter. It's not hard to ask, but the fear of failure is something else entirely‑especially when you're 17.
Not that it gets any easier at 27, or 57. I guess by the time we're 97 we would be over it, but who knows.
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