This post has been in progress since the first of the month and I always find a reason not to post it. Today, I don't have anything for Wordless Wednesday so bring on Wordy Wednesday. I just might have a Wordless Wednesday post later on today. Or maybe I'll save it for next week. Or Eye Candy Friday. Or for No Reason Thursday.....
I don't always consider myself a fully realized, mature adult. I mean, in some ways I am so there, life has done whatever it does to grow me up in some ways, like it or not. On the other hand, the universe often sends me messages to which something in my personality responds while stomping my feet, "You can't tell me what to do! You're NOT the BOSS of me!" like a stubborn toddler.
There is the time I climbed Mt. Washington. The time I hemorrhaged for days because I was too busy to slow down. Almost dying has a way of slowing you down. There was that time that I saw the cutest little sweatshirt at a craft fair, it had a heart shaped doily on it with ribbon roses and ribbon bows and I wanted it so bad for my girls, but the price? Out of my range. This was pre-internet and something I thought I would be able to buy at a local craft store was not to be found. Anywhere. I get a little tenacious in the face of these setbacks and I managed, by searching the ads in the back of magazines and making a lot of phone calls over days, to find them and make my vision a reality. I will drive anywhere, spend what I need to (okay, within some reason), pressure family, endure pain, start, stop, restart..... I don't stop. My husband no longer questions trips far and wide or my tunnel vision when it comes to something I've decided I am doing or need to have.
So what does this have to do with any sign of maturing? I suppose on the one hand there is a comment Laurie left for me on facebook recently, "Experience is defined as recognizing the same mistake when you make it again." In many cases I am even a little closer in that I often recognize those same mistakes as I am plowing my way right into them. Oh wait, what is that thing they say about trying the same thing over and over expecting different results? Hmm...
That brings me to NaKniSweMo. I really want this sweater. I mean, WAAAANNNNNTTTT! that sweater! I envision it as being the perfect 'grab on the way out the door' sweater that I'll throw on over everything. I've already written its story in my head. I'm not even kidding, in my daydreams this sweater was knitted with this yarn (a little heavy, but exactly what I was going for), washed and blocked into a slightly fulled and soft fabric, adorned with the perfect button, worn on every errand, apple picking, visiting the vendors at the sheep and wool festivals, snow-shoeing, apres-ski, spinning around on a snow dotted mountain peak, it's spring in Austria and the grass is coming up and the birds, the sweater and I are breaking out in song......... always maintaining a casual, cozy chic that only the best sweaters can manage, all the while being my constant cold weather companion and over the years becoming slightly pilled and worn, earning elbow patches and when it finally gives up the ghost would be much mourned. Except that it would never die because I envisioned this sweater in Peace Fleece from my stash, which would never wear out. In my dream, sentimentality would have my daughters fighting over it after I am gone (and of course only one of them has short enough arms and would totally win it).
So I swatched the Peace Fleece.
This is where my vision started losing its dreamy glow. Knitting this yarn is not easy for my hands. There wasn't a smooth motion of needle sliding in and stitch sliding off, it was a struggle. I inserted mental earplugs to the niggling little voice telling me that this might not be a good idea, ignored the pain brought on by the hard work and kept knitting away. The pre-washed swatch was stiff, but I have experience with Peace Fleece and know what a good bath does to the fabric. And it did. OH! My dream was starting to brighten again!
Meanwhile, I decided to swatch for another sweater with another yarn. I have really wanted this sweater and while my daydreams for it aren't as full blown and technicolor-ed in my mind, it is one that will fit nicely into my life. With the first row everything was easier. The action of knitting was smooth and comfortable. I was far off of the gauge, but it blocked out to nearly the gauge and a beautiful fabric.
You know what happens next, right?
Color not even close
Memories of Indigo Ripple Skirt
I spent nearly two hours to get that much knitting done, playing my vision and dream over and over as all of my joints from the shoulders down started to hurt and the going was s-l-o-w. I kept seeing myself in this sweater, knowing it would be worth all of the knitting time, planning that I would knit both sweaters at the same time so I could give myself a break from the hard knitting and since it was a lot of stockinette stitch, it would get easier, right? The love I would have for it would outweigh any issues in the creation, right? The ribbing, it was hard. I started to feel tingling in my fingers and was stopping to massage my forearms often. And with every difficult stitch I started to think wisely. I started to mentally shop my stash for another yarn that might be appropriate. I started to mentally shop yarn stores for even more yarns. Throughout it all the brightness of the recurring dream was dimming and with regret I set the knitting aside. I haven't removed the needles and pulled it out yet. That will be the final sign of maturity and I haven't quite gotten there. Yet. In my mind I am still the opposite of gotten there.
2012. Oh, COME ON! You totally write musical romantic comedies for your knitted items! I'm not the only one, that is for sure!