Yesterday, I signed off that I am a shit knitter. At times, I am pretty sure that we have all had our moments in which we question our ability to follow a simple pattern and make it work. After all, knitting is basically the same two stitches repeated until you have found a look you like. The pattern simply offers a way for you to get from point A to point B and have something reasonably useful to show for it. Lately, however, I am wondering why the hell I even bother. Never mind the February Lady Sweater debacle; that was my own cock up, and I kind of deserved exactly what I got. The three of the last four sweaters that I knit will never be worn by the recipients for whom they were knit. 75% is the chance that our OB/GYN gave us of having another set of twins . . . we walked away never to have any more. Knitting? Is that the same fate for you?
Here's the skinny. Bringing Sexy Back doesn't fit properly under the arms for Betty, and she'll never wear it. I took it to Knit Night, and Tricia and I came to the conclusion that either Mom serges a new underarm seam and I reknit the sleeves or I offer to someone who will wear it. Lola or the Other Sister might fit into it, so at least I can rest easy knowing that someone might actually get some use out of it. Purple Rain, which I knit for Miss Veronica, suffers the same fate . . . too big under the arms. She'll never, ever wear it. This one, I'm not that completely broken up about since I knit it as a sample for the shop as well. Lola did have this on our queue so perhaps the purple shade will sit sell with her. Otherwise, Mom might get this one; I'm sure I can find her something to sew for me. Granted, someone will wear the sweaters . . . just not the person for whom I intended. The fourth one? It's another February Baby Sweater, destined for one of Lola's friends in Columbus who are expecting their first baby in a few weeks. Hell, even that sweater I have no certainty that it will be worn by the child in question.
So . . . 75% odds? Do I give up knitting? Oh, god no . . . not unless the Flyer wants an overly cranky wife on his hands or the girls want a mother who smothers them. Something has to occupy my hands, and it may as well be knitting. After all, there is Malabrigo Lace (that pink reminds me of Peeps) to be knit and Juliana's math to be rejiggered. I feel so Scarlet O'Hara at this moment since: As God as my witness, knitting's not going to lick me . . . at least I think that's what she meant to say.
Wish me luck - I'm ready to swatch for the next big adventure!