Some days are bad days. Some weeks are bad weeks. Keep your head down, try to focus, don’t drop your stitches, listen to Poly Styrene.
Amount of time it took me to knit the back of a pullover pattern completely wrong: 6.5 days
Amount of time it took me to unravel the end result into four separate balls of wool (three different colors and weights): 35 minutes.
Oh well. Adopt, adapt, and improve.
Well, after a raucous and slightly frustrating search, it turns out the craft shop near my work place had only worsted weight aran wool in off-white. Lucky me!
So, I ended up pulling out the bulky seed stitch and carrying on with the stockinette the pattern called for. However, having become a bit smitten with the effect, it will be making a return later on. Stay tuned!
With no new shipment of worsted weight aran wool due at my local shop anytime soon, I asked Holly (knitting agony aunt) whether I should (for the sake of continuing the pattern and maintaining my sanity) switch to fingering or bulky. She recommended bulky and suggested switching to seed stitch for what will be the upper portion of the back of a pullover.
So far, so good.I still might pull the whole thing apart if I don’t like it.
Running low on the aran wool, less than two days after my local shop received their new yarn shipment, and some bastard decided to buy out ALL of the off-white worsted weight wool. All the shop had left was fine weight and bulky.
I repeat: BASTARD.
(Yes, I could buy it from the website — if I wanted to make purchases in intervals of five, pay $7 for shipping and set aside my project for 3-5 days while I wait for a delivery that’s subject to the whims of our local post office. So not the point.)
After careful consideration, I went with aran wool for the main color on the pullover. Chalk it up to my childhood love of Rainbow Brite (and my continued mourning for my missing Starlite plush). I’m tempted to work an intarsia design into the pattern somewhere on the front part of the pullover — possibly a skull and crossbones, possibly using the green aran tweed my friends brought me from Dublin.
Another year, another Day of the Dead. In years past, I set up altars on the patio to celebrate the lives of my father, grandmother, great grandparents, friends I’ve lost over the years. This year, a move to a new home, long hours at work, and losing another friend has left me more introspective and with a significant lack of energy.
I miss the people that I knew, but it was good to know them.
For the members of my family who lived and died before I was born, I continue to be flabbergasted at how many small decisions made by those individuals had ripple effects across the generations.
I continue to be grateful for the friends and family I have left — including my girlfriend who, in lieu of building an altar, offered to move Bonfire Night up four days by helping me burn some old financial and special school district documents I’d been holding onto for far too long. The good people in your life somehow always seem to know just what you need.