Excavated

I have other options. I need to remind myself of this as the days tick down. The Green Sweater has 4 (Count'em. Four!) steeks. That seems like a lot of steeks to someone who has never cut her knitting. It has that knit-the-neckline-in-the-round EZ un-vention known as the "kangaroo pouch neck." I still can't get my mind around that one. The yarn is . . . different. The Princess (for whom this would be made) (to replace her felted Perfect Sweater) is not enamoured of the 3/4 sleeves. I would have to face all the above and adjust the pattern.

I begin to feel more than just challenged. I'm not sure that terrified is the right mind set for Olympic endeavor. It's my first real Olympics after all; do I really want to participate in the decathlon?

I could confront a different knitting nemesis. Colorwork. This is, admittedly, a smaller project. Fine. It's a much, much smaller project. Then again, so was my first attempt at colorwork and they still languish somewhere at the bottom of a knitting basket. Though it be small it could be called challenging. Ask any sprinter how easy their event is.

Of course, nobody in this household would wear such an object. Even a4A isn't looking for hats anymore. Once knit, what would I do with it?

Which brings us to Door Number 3. I could finally knit up my Absolutely Fabulous Afghan.

I can justify this on several levels. The knitting itself, that is, the pattern, is nothing I can't handle. It's your basic feather and fan. And while I was unhappy enough with my first attempts, I've since knit Jo Sharp's Misty Garden scarf enough times (this one, and this one) to feel comfortable with the yarn-overs and P2togs. The challenge would come from:

1) The yarn itself. A dizzying array of 8 yarns in 6 different types and weights including three colors of mohair. I have studiously avoided mohair. I don't even knit with mohair blends. One might think I was phobic about mohair and one would have good cause for such suspicion.

2) The size. It's an afghan, for pete's sake. It's an afghan with endless changes in yarn and color. The weaving in of the ends alone could take me a week. It's a finishing marathon. I could arguably qualify for two different events.

3) The monogamy. With a smaller project I would have more options. Like breathing. Or sleeping. This one would take a level of commitment, single-mindedness and discipline that I rarely display on any project.

4) It's the knitted object I lusted after enough to lurk in the first Knitting Olympics and produce my first piece of non-trapezoidal knitting, the kit I rewarded myself with when I was too intimidated to claim a medal. It's the undisputed sentimental favorite.

That and I unearthed the pattern during today's "Adventures in Stuff Removal."