Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Here and Now
Yeah, I'm still here, although I'm here, which is where I'm currently sitting and reading all about Lilly's progress on her various projects. Kudo's to you, Lilly, for keeping us honest about our knitting blog. We wouldn't want to be known as "bloggerwannabe's" now would we?
Believe it or not I'm going to start a new sock(s) project, which must mean I have at least ten or more lying around in wait hoping for a professional knitter to give them some "hands on" attention. They have the foresight to know their position at the bottom of the bag means they will never see the light of day again. Pitiful and partner-less socks. They are actually considering starting a local chapter for the Lonely Sock Club of America. Surely there are plenty of poor soles living an empty and unfulfilled existence at the bottom of the heap of some lowly disheveled knitting bag lying in a dusty corner in some knitterwannabe's house.
Well that's about to change for this fortunate ball(s) of yarn. They have a future. I can feel it and I'm hopeful this will be the beginning of something new and exciting. A year of finished projects except this year is beginning July 1st because, well, I don't like to do things the ordinary way and besides July is a half-year. So there. And I'm posting this new resolution, if you will, and I don't really want to be a failure to the proud and the few who read this blog. Even it is only Lilly, Jo and myself, I want to save face and be a proud knitter. I want to go into the LYS and chat about my finished projects like Jo and Lilly tend to do.
"Oh, I made a pair of socks out of this.
Oh, I just so happen to be wearing them.
Oh no, that was yesterday, today I'm wearing these."
They have so many socks to choose from. One pair for every day of the week. I have one. Period. One lonely sock that doesn't even fit my foot. Or any foot for that matter. It is a one-of-a-kind specialty that will forever hold a place dear to my heart. Kind of like my trapezoid dishcloth I made. It was my very first project and I took it over to Lilly's house to show her what I had achieved through blood, sweat and tears, and she held it up and out like it was some kind of rodent, turning it this way and that. She was gracious and kind as she always is and our conversation at her front door went something like this:
Me: Smiling proudly
Lilly: I love the colors.
Me: Yeah, well I made a few mistakes but I really don't think they are that noticeable. I can't figure out why it isn't square.
Lilly: Hmmmmm. Did you count your stitches at the end of every row?
HELLO! I was having such a good time knitting I wasn't about to stop and count my stitches at the end of every row because if it wasn't the correct amount then I would have to pull them off and start anew because in those early years I didn't know how to do anything different. No way was I going to keep starting fresh or I would never finish so I just kept going thinking I was all that and a bag of chips.
I've come a long way from those early days of trapezoid dishcloths. I learned how to fix some mistakes and I no longer need to count my stitches at the end of each and every row. If I'm off by a stitch I can make one. If I have too many, I'll stitch 2 together. No problem. At least until now. I've finally reached the point in my knitting journey where I want to strive for perfection. At least my definition of perfection, which is something totally quite different from Lilly and Jo's definition of perfection. There are bound to be mistakes but I want the end product to closely resemble the picture on the pattern. That's all.