This Christmas, after I had taken out the chocolate and socks and new pens from my stocking, I found a single beautiful skein of yarn curled elegantly in the toe.
I love it. (In the interest of accuracy and not screwing over brand new knitters who are going to be left wondering what the difference is between a skein and a ball, and will then send me email saying “If that’s a skein, what’s a ball?” .. this is not the skein. The skein has been wound into a ball for the purposes of knitting and a photo. ) This is one little skein of Alchemy Alpaca Pure, and for a time it’s just hung around. It sits on the desk. I pat it. It’s a pet skein.
Now, I don’t have any problems with pet skeins. I think they serve a valid and noble purpose just as they are. Not all yarn needs to be knit up to have a reason for existing. I mean, does anyone stand in front of Sonia Delaunay’s Tango Bal and say “Yeah…but what’s it for? I mean, is it holding up the wall or something?” (I take it back. I know there are those who have no feeling for art, but they are soulless and dead inside and I’m not bringing them into this conversation. You can not like some art, you can even think it’s ugly, but pointless? Dead. Inside. That’s what those people are. )
Back to the point. This skein has been sitting around, fulfilling its purpose of being beautiful and art, and I’ve realized that’s a mistake. Joe bought that skein for me as a gift, and he doesn’t quite yet understand about yarn as art, and I realized that if I didn’t knit it into something, he was going to think (was thinking, actually) that I didn’t like it or want it. I certainly wasn’t doing anything to reinforce his yarn buying. I decided to knit it up. I thought I would love to have some pretty fingerless mitts and I winged it. Behold, not the first, nor the second, nor even the third attempt, but the fourth attempt at a pair of simple, simple fingerless mitts which I am now going to frog because they are ass. Complete ass.
The first ones were too big. The second ones were less big, but still not related to my hand size in any way at all. The third ones were ugly and this time, this time I have outdone myself. These are ugly AND too small.
All of that comes down to me violently ripping alpaca last night, and Joe stating so simply, “I don’t know if that yarn makes you happy…”
Obviously, the foul language I am using when I am near this now cursed yarn is not doing anything to help Joe understand that I value it greatly and that I really enjoy his forays into yarn purchasing and would like him to repeat it as frequently as possible.
Anybody got a pattern suggestion? It’s a fingering weight alpaca and I’m clearly not cutting it with the “winging”.
From the comments: Sonya asks:
Will you do another knitting olympics??
Absolutely. I might do a few things differently next time, (Things like finding a better way to manage the list of names. A way that doesn’t include all that crying.) but there’s no way that the Winter Olympics could go down in Canada and I couldn’t do it. Lucky for me I’ve got a couple of years to figure it out.
What’s that? A few of you saying “But what about the Summer Olympics! The Knitting Olympics can happen every two years, not four!”
I don’t think so. When you have an event….a sport, you only get to go to the Olympics every four years. It’s part of what makes it epic. Bobsled? Four years. Skiing? Four years. Running? Four years. Knitting? (I’m sure you see where I’m going with this.) I say that the Summer Olympics are for other sports. Maybe the Crocheters should have the Summer Olympics?