Skip to main content

I Killed the Cotton Blend

Murderer! Apparently it is possible to "kill" your yarn and I did it, though I will plead to manslaughter since there was no intent to "kill".

This morning at my LYS, a fellow knitting aficionado, began showing me the finer points of using the mattress stitch to join garment pieces. All at once I had an epiphany, this garment looks too wide and short. I panicked. I already knew that the length-wise gauge was off, adding one more diamond shape would have gotten me to get the proper length, but let's face it...we don't know what we don't know. I had already decided that a half shirt was perfectly acceptable and my daughter, the intended recipient, would likely wear it to the beach with her blue jeans. A quick measure confirmed my newest fear. The garment that I'd been loving working on, frogging, re-knitting, measuring and toiling over grew 2 inches in girth. It was a tragedy! Did you get that? A TRAGEDY! "How could this happen to me?" I asked.

Then all at once I knew...it measured up correctly BEFORE the blocking process. Now, I have no choice but to admit the unabashed truth. I have been using a short-cut method when it comes to "blocking" my knitting. When I want something to lay down properly, I take my trusty steam iron and go right after the unruly article. Once upon a time, I would wet two kitchen towels then apply the iron but soon discarded the pretense of the towels which seemed to serve no real purpose but definitely lengthened the process. Apparently there was some underlying wisdom to blocking technique and I had to learn the hard way. My chosen yarn was Weekend by Berroco, a cotton/acrylic blend that knits up nicely. My partners-in-crime at my LYS, explained that acrylic is p-l-a-s-t-i-c, and when you apply heat to acrylic (a.k.a. plastic) it loses it's shape, bounce, and essentially...its life. ARRGGHH! Who knew?

Yesterday, visions of my masterpiece arriving on my daughter's doorstep flashed before my mind's eye. I felt so complete, so "at one" with my art form and so fulfilled as a mother. Oh well, back to the drawing board. And would my daughter have been as pleased as I visualized. Likely not. Here's a reminder...keep it real, Tina. Keep it real. Did I enjoy knitting? Yes. Did I learn something? Oh, most definitely. Am I willing to give up this activity because I muffed it again? Nope. I'll take my lessons learned and keep on a'knittin'!!! Here's my new motto going forward: Be Kind to the Cotton.

FYI: LYS is short for local yarn store


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I Remember...

I remember catching fireflies,  putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field.  That field was my...
3 comments
Read more

Managed

Managed care, do not get me started. It is the bane of my existence and my savior. If quadriplegia has curtailed my activities, and it has, then being in a home has curtailed even more. I've had to dumb it down and set my standards low. Gone, are the halcyon days of getting in my wheelchair to go for a stroll or sit in the sun, or even sit in the sun room. Neither the nurses, nor patient care technicians, know how to put me in my wheelchair. Seriously. My chair has head controls and it is a bafflement. Most caregivers don't even realize I have head controls. First, they hit the left head pad when they lift the armrest which turns the chair on. Next, they sling me over and place me in the chair. The problem? My head, naturally, rests on the headrest, which accelerates and drives the chair and is beyond my control. Running over a caregiver or running myself into an obstruction are very real consequences of their ignorance. What could be worse? The caregivers remain clueless abo...
Post a Comment
Read more

Best Birthday Ever!

Started my day in a snit. Housekeeping cannot seem to get together on getting my clothing into my dresser drawers, instead packing shorts, tank tops, and pajamas into the closet on hangers. Those closets get so overstuffed the clothes end up in a pile on the floor where nobody bothers to pick them up. Then an unsuspecting aide arrives and asks me what I want to wear. I respond, "What do I have? " I get asked the same question as though I never answered and I blow a gasket. Woe is me, nobody greeted me with a smile and a"Happy Birthday! " Nobody surprised me by cleaning out the closets nor did they lay out my Birthday clothing. I refuse help until my closets are clean. I've been waiting for weeks for my regular aide to catch on to my routine. God knows she can't understand my requests between my ALS accent and her Ethiopian one. But, today I make my stand and have the Resident Care Manager making order so I can make some logical decisions. A waste of her va...
Post a Comment
Read more