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


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Eleventh Heaven

Getting right to it, Tina's Twelve Days of Christmas nears it's crescendo:  ♫ On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... eleven Trophy Cupcakes, ten Snowman bright lights, nine Fran's dark chocolates, eight Christmas crackers, seven cotton candies, six bags of kisses, five red heart ornaments..........four rein-dogs poopin', three chocolate Santas, two red poinsettias, and a glass pickle to hang in the tree. ♫ I have to share with you, the effort my husband is making. He brought me a few different choices for the eleventh day of Christmas: Eleven candy canes, eleven Lindor truffles, and eleven Trophy Cupcakes. Of course, I cannot possibly eat all of the nummy goodies, so my caregivers are, deservedly, getting tasty holiday treats.

More Lies

1 A lot of emotional drama has happened with me once again. First, I went ballistic when my husband sprang another nasty little surprise on me. He told me in an offhand way that he would not be visiting me over the weekend when he was aware all week long that was the case. That was the culmination of a month of nasty little surprises  I got all month long from my conniving husband. I figured out that after he talked me into a limited power of attorney for the purpose of listing then selling our properties, He sold property to his brother. After questioning my husband he feigned forgetting to tell me that he sold some property to his brother. He also told me that he did not list the properties per our expressed verbal agreement. Additionally, he sold a house and four lots for about $25,000.00 UNDER market value. Within the next few weeks, he tells me (after the fact) that he sold our retirement home on a contract basis (again for less than market value) to his brother's daughter...

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...