I’m a knitter. Not a good one, but nevertheless I persist. Knitting is yoga for the mind and I have a head filled with hummingbirds. Some say they try to knit away the crazy. That is a pretty good description.
My two favorite parts of knitting are casting on and casting off. These two steps represent the beginning and end of the project respectively.
Casting on is exciting because everything is new—new yarn, new needles, a new pattern. The project ahead is perfect at this point. However, it rarely stays that way. A lot can happen in the course of a project. All it takes is a phone call, a dog that needs to go out, or a little too much wine for shit to go to hell in a handbasket. For the record, this is why I no longer knit after a glass of wine.
Casting off is equally as exciting as casting on. I’m a slow knitter, so it is possible I have looked at the same project for weeks, or even months. When it is time to cast off, I am so ready to be finished. I’m tired of the yarn, I’m tired of the pattern and I’m frustrated with the mistakes I have made along the way. I just want to finish the damn thing and pick my next challenge.
I have one particular project that is the bane of my existence. It has the potential to be a lovely summer shawl. However, I just can’t seem to get the job done. This project has been in the works for nearly two years.
For six long months I steadily worked on this shawl. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking. It is a very fine yarn and given my knitting prowess and speed, I might never finish.
I put it in a knitting time-out more than a year ago. I just could not look at it anymore. My husband and the ladies I knit with have inquired as to when it might resurface. I really don’t want to think about it. The amount of yarn the project calls for versus what little I have already knitted just seems overwhelming. There are also several mistakes in the project that frustrate me greatly.
The thing you must understand about most knitting mistakes is they only bother the person who knitted the project. If you are wearing one of your projects and someone notices a mistake, one or more of these three things are true: 1. This person is way too far up in your business and needs to back the fuck up. 2. It’s a huge mistake that you should have probably ripped out and fixed. 3. This person is an asshole.
I had been thinking about revisiting this damn summer shawl for a couple of weeks. I picked it up on a lazy Sunday and began to knit on it. I soon realized that the first row in my resumed knitting was wrong. Fuck. I’m now faced with the conundrum of ripping out several rows or having what we knitters like to call a “design feature.”
This project already has several “design features.” Ugh.
The more I think about it, the more I think I’ll just leave it. More than likely no one else will notice it and when I inevitably do notice it, I will hopefully think of how I persevered regardless of my mistakes.
Knitting, much like life, is rarely perfect.