And so it begins.

This morning after yoga, where I learned that I can’t do this at all, (I can do the arms, but the legs are not possible. It was inelegant. You have no idea.) I started to feel all zen about the sweater. I started to think that I should let go of the sweater. Allow the sweater to move through me in it’s own time and space. Do not force the sweater, but instead embrace the sweater coming into it’s own being. Let the sweater be only as finished as it can be for right now. Breathe.
(This is what yoga does to you.) Then I checked my comments. My little zen-like self (breathe) read how everybody thought it was nuts. (Note to self: when the general response to your plan is “Well this should be entertaining”, you might want to consider the possibility that you are experiencing unrealistic expectations again. Further to that, when your friends say “Step away from the sweater…” or “Let’s not do this “thing” again” you might want to think over the off chance that your plan makes about as much sense as the time that I wanted to get a miniature sheep and try to convince Joe it was a dog).
I was all ready to listen to the chorus of knitters pleading with me to not take this leap into the abyss, let go, (breathe) and work on knitting as a meditative process when I saw Claudia’s comment:
/Please imagine me chuckling like an evil squirrel/
If you finish that sweater by Rhinebeck, I will buy you a TREAT at the show.
/the evil chuckling continues/

(Please insert filthy expletive of your choice here) I am deeply ashamed to discover that this one little comment was enough to completely drop me. That was it. I have to do it. There is no walking away now. You may think what you will about the fact that I don’t even know Claudia, and that I don’t even know what the treat is. You can also infer whatever pleases you about the fact that I don’t even need to know. It could be the shredded reciepts from the bottom of her purse for all I know. It doesn’t matter.
The game is on.
In true harlot fashion…the plan is loose.
This…(look, I wasn’t kidding about the loose thing) is the pattern.
This is the start. (It’s one of the fronts.)
This is the second of the thrum-a-long mittens…
because you know…I’m not letting the fact that I’m clearly delusional and unrealistic keep me from my mitten knitting responsibilities.