Can This Friendship Be Saved?

If you happen to be a somewhat obsessive enthusiastic knitter, then you know that it is sometimes difficult to find friends who share that passion. This is why many of us will maniacally sell our souls rearrange our schedules, ignore work commitments, and abandon our children hire babysitters just so we can make it to a local knitting group or fiber gathering. For those of us who cannot find--or manage to attend--a knitting group in real life, the internet provides a 24/7 fiber community where we can frolic at will. But there is nothing quite like spending time with a fiber friend, in the flesh, fondling yarn together. (That last sentence will confirm to DH that knitting porn is alive and well.)

Hence, some of you may happen to understand my excitement at finding some new knitting friends. I am just getting to know some other bloggers (and their buddies) who live within an hour of me, and that certainly makes me quite happy. But I also recently met a fellow fiber fanatic who lives just a few blocks away. Who owns a spinning wheel. Who has a daughter the same age as my youngest daughter. AND who happens to be gregarious, smart, and funny. (She almost got us kicked out of Panera a few weeks ago. We were the rowdy knitting bunch near the fireplace.) This could be the perfect knitting relationship...except for one thing:

She does not own a computer. Not at home, not at work.

She does not receive e-mail, drool over yarn on Ebay, or avidly wait for the next edition of Knitty.

She (gasp) does not read blogs.

When she mentioned her computer-less existence, in an offhand manner, my startled reaction was notable. (I might have gotten a little faint. I can't quite remember.) My relationship to knitting has become so entwined with my Internet travels and friends that I can't quite remember a time when they were separate. (And as your mother may have mentioned at some point, you can never go back to just holding hands.) I have been sucked in to the virtual fiber world, and I find it hard to resist the call of the Internet sirens who wield Addi Turbos and handpainted bamboo yarns. And yet, there is something refreshing about spending time with someone who is still untouched by that world, someone who doesn't feel compelled to check her bloglines feeds several times a day.

Perhaps I can overlook her lack of techno-lust. Perhaps, just perhaps, I can reach across the cultural divide to forge a friendship based solely on our love of knitting spun fibers into beautiful objects. Perhaps she can lure me away from my computer desk and force encourage me to engage more fully in the physical world around me.

Or--if all that fails--perhaps I can just give her our old computer.