My Needles are my Therapists
I am not good at admitting my mistakes. Ok, I said it.
There have been lots of them: job-related, life-related, we all have them. All those cringe-worthy dumb things I've done, times when I've churned out bad quality work in times of desperation, exhaustion, or ignorance. Ugh. I hate 'em.
Exhibit A: My past career as a school teacher. I loved the kids. I loved being with them, talking with them, laughing with them. I was just not organized enough to be a good teacher. I'm just not that person who can create the school environment required for school-based learning. I know I never will be. However, when I think of the stupid things I created, or times when I just did things WRONG... well, I blush, get goosebumps, and banish the memory from my head.
It would be nice to just be able to laugh at myself more.
I was thinking about this last night as I ripped out the bottom section of my Featherweight Cardigan for the second time. Sigh.
The first attempt was to add 3 inches of fagot lace around the edge. I'd seen a project on Ravelry that used it, I thought it was really nice. Problem? They used a heavier yarn, and my laceweight just was too much like a fishnet. I could just see it snagging on absolutely everything. I sighed, then I went and did the only logical thing: I ate dinner.
After ripping all of those stitches out and painstakingly putting them back on the needles, I decided I'd do a moss stitch. Row 1: K2, p2 to end. Row 2: Knit the knits, purl the purls. Row 3: Knit the purls, purl the knits. Row 4: Get a coffee and contemplate what this all looks like.
Sigh again.
I do NOT want to give up, because if I put this down, it will become something that I avoid, and eventually shudder at the thought of finishing. I don't want it to become another mistake I can't admit to. I'm just losing momentum... fast.
It probably doesn't help that I've got a bunch of new yarn waiting for me to play with it. But I have to face the ugly truth: Taking short cuts and rushing through it will only make me wince and shudder at the memory of this project. It's a life lesson. I gotta do it.
My needles are my therapists. Good thing they don't charge by the hour.
There have been lots of them: job-related, life-related, we all have them. All those cringe-worthy dumb things I've done, times when I've churned out bad quality work in times of desperation, exhaustion, or ignorance. Ugh. I hate 'em.
Exhibit A: My past career as a school teacher. I loved the kids. I loved being with them, talking with them, laughing with them. I was just not organized enough to be a good teacher. I'm just not that person who can create the school environment required for school-based learning. I know I never will be. However, when I think of the stupid things I created, or times when I just did things WRONG... well, I blush, get goosebumps, and banish the memory from my head.
It would be nice to just be able to laugh at myself more.
I was thinking about this last night as I ripped out the bottom section of my Featherweight Cardigan for the second time. Sigh.
The first attempt was to add 3 inches of fagot lace around the edge. I'd seen a project on Ravelry that used it, I thought it was really nice. Problem? They used a heavier yarn, and my laceweight just was too much like a fishnet. I could just see it snagging on absolutely everything. I sighed, then I went and did the only logical thing: I ate dinner.
After ripping all of those stitches out and painstakingly putting them back on the needles, I decided I'd do a moss stitch. Row 1: K2, p2 to end. Row 2: Knit the knits, purl the purls. Row 3: Knit the purls, purl the knits. Row 4: Get a coffee and contemplate what this all looks like.
Sigh again.
I do NOT want to give up, because if I put this down, it will become something that I avoid, and eventually shudder at the thought of finishing. I don't want it to become another mistake I can't admit to. I'm just losing momentum... fast.
It probably doesn't help that I've got a bunch of new yarn waiting for me to play with it. But I have to face the ugly truth: Taking short cuts and rushing through it will only make me wince and shudder at the memory of this project. It's a life lesson. I gotta do it.
My needles are my therapists. Good thing they don't charge by the hour.
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