Yarnapalooza Winner #25
Photo: baby sweater in progress. The sleeves are in the other room and I'm too lazy to go get them.
We're in the home stretch now. Congratulations to Donna Arney, Yarnapalooza Winner #25.
I don't know what I'm going to do with myself with July is over . . .
Progress continues on the baby sweater. The sleeves are almost finished and after that comes (gulp) the finishing. I may end up swatching a seed stitch selvedge piece and a garter stitch bind off and playing around with ways to join them up. Even though I'm a slow knitter it's probably well worth the time and effort in order to get it right. I'm not too picky about my knitting (most likely because I'm way too picky about my writing) (book writing; I give myself inordinate slack on the blogs) mainly because the point of it is to free myself from judgment, not impose judgment of a different kind on myself. A certain amount of sharp critiquing seems to go with the knitting territory but for the most part I'm pretty easy on myself. (Except when it's a gift for someone else. Perfection isn't attainable for me so I try instead for durable and easy on the eyes!)
I find it strange that a woman (me) who can be so brutally hard on herself in every other aspect of her life (writing, hair, appearance, foot-in-mouth tendency, etc., etc.) can harbor such a laissez-faire attitude about knitting and painting. Let me be the first to say it: I'm no Van Gogh. I'm also no Elizabeth Zimmerman and unlikely to become one. But nobody, and I mean nobody, loves painting and knitting as much as I do and nobody (at least nobody with eyes) could possibly love the end results more. I am delighted when I finish a drawing or painting or knitted object. I am thrilled with my accomplishment, flaws and all. Some benevolent goddess of delusion pops a pair of slightly skewed rose-colored glasses over my eyes and I ooh and ahh at even the most pedestrian accomplishment as if I'd reinvented the wheel. It's as close to pure happiness as I'm likely to get. It's not that I can't see what's wrong--I can--but I just plain don't care. I created it, it's mine, and I love it.
Unfortunately other people can also see what's wrong and, hindsight being what it is, I kind of regret blithely sending off gifts that I now know were (kinda) (maybe) embarrassingly amateurish but in my defense I did it with a full heart and lots of love. Not a whole lotta skill but lots of love. The thing is, do you hold back on the gift-giving impulse until your skills are where you'd love them to be or do you just let your needles fly and follow your heart and hope that one day your skills will catch up with you?
That, dear knitters, is my question of the day!