Thursday, March 08, 2007

NOW, dammit

I've been in a knitting rut. Or maybe a fog. Yes, that's it. A knitting fog.

I have tamed the wild Hybrid Seamless Sweater. Now it's just that restful around and around and around. After all the trial and travail it caused me, wouldn't you think I'd be content? Success is reasonably certain. John is, quietly, so pleased. He smiles when he sees it in my hands. Inspects how the yarn is revealing itself in the knitting. Smiles again. Notes, "That's my sweater."

And yet.

None of the growing number of unfinished projects is calling me. None of my knitting puzzles can hold my attention. I want something. Something new. Something different. And I want it now. Which may be why I thought of this.


Long, long, ago, back when I first started Clare's afghan, the yarn store had a Colinette afghan on display. It was beautiful. I loved it. I couldn't knit. Almost a year ago now, in celebration of my non-trapezoidal knitting, I dragged my children with me to act as consultants and ordered my "ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS HAND-DYED THROW KIT SIX styles in ONE kit!" in Versace. (It has apparently been discontinued. I couldn't find it on their website.) I couldn't do anything but garter stitch, mind you, but I had hope. I took it home and set it aside for the day my ability would be worthy of this long coveted object. I barely even allowed myself to look at it. It was a project for "someday." Best not to get too close. I could wait.

I forgot about it. Lured buy the siren song of the Internet, Stitches Midwest, and the new yarn stores opening up, I pursued my skills with other projects, other yarns.

So, here I am in now. I want something, but don't know what. It occurs to me that this is precisely why one maintains a stash. When even a trip to the yarn store takes too long, and because of the amorphous nature of my desire, is likely to be unproductive. Possibly even frustrating.

Unburying the "AFH-DTK," I realized that I could do this. I know how. The time has come, at long last, to make my work of art.

Except.

Do my eyes deceive me? Is that purple? And, almost worse, pale pink? How did that get in there? That can't be right. Even in my Barbie days I didn't like pink or purple.

What do I do, NOW?

1 comment:

diane h said...

Well, you can bury the purple and pink some where among that tan and blue or, facing the inevitable, go to a yarn store ;-)