About three weeks ago, we went cross-country skiing.
And in another week, the grass was green and the trees and flowers were budding.
|Hey that's my shoe!|
|These people haven't done jack to their lawn in at least a year, and yet pretty flowers happen anyway.|
What a weird winter. On the one hand, I'm enjoying being able to wear short-sleeves, on the other hand, it's totally ominous and creepy.
I've actually been doing a fair amount of knitting over the past month, but for some reason have kept it a secret. I mean, it's not really a secret, but I think I was subconsciously dubious as to whether or not it would work, and kind of confused as to why I was doing it in the first place.
It started with the revelation that I don't particularly care for this sweater. I never even bothered having someone take a picture of me actually in it. I've worn it a total of one time, and I felt a little like a jackass the entire day. The fabric is heavy and ultimately it's too big. I remember thinking that I liked it when I finished it (after several iterations of ripping apart and fixing), but now I'm thinking that I was suffering from a form of knitting Stockholm syndrome. So when I saw a sale on Tilli Tomas yarn back in November, I picked up a sweater appropriate amount with the seed of an idea.
Sammy opened the yarn shipment while I was at work. He does love yarn.
|Thanks for your 'help'.|
About a month ago, I decided that I would bite the bullet and try the same sweater again (#10 Tunis). But it also seemed kind of stupid to possibly get burned again. I just re-read my review of the pattern on Ravelry and it's bordering on brutal. I really hated the sweater. So I wasn't entirely sure it was going to work, nor entirely sure why I was doing it in the first place. Sometimes once you finish a pattern though, you realize what you (think you) needed to do to make it work.
I worked up most of the torso while I was in Japan, and spent the lion's share of a delayed-sit-on-the-tarmac-for-hours-flight picking up the sleeves (Orlando: worst conference venue EVER--the flight home was the cherry on the shit sundae). Just the neckline remains.
I'm willing to declare success only with the addition of a question mark (success?). Got to get that neckline before I start counting chickens in earnest.