Friday, February 12, 2010
Closely related to the blizzard mittens produced last weekend, except these have... a certain special... something.
I can't quite put my finger on it. Or rather, my thumb.
I was just sitting here, watching Project Runway (one of the few shows on television I actually watch), and knitting away at this mitten. I was so pleased to actually get this one finished, knowing the five-year-old would be happy to have at least one mitten ready (of the pair she requested as soon as she saw her brother's). I wove in all my ends, snipped off the last tail of yarn, and proudly held it up to show my husband.
And we both dissolved into giggles.
"It's... it's... an alien mitten!" I gasped.
"Na-nu, na-nu!" he replied.
"If she needs to greet a Vulcan, she'll be all set!"
At this point we both had tears streaming down our faces and were shaking with laughter, letting out little shrieks now and then. The teenager came running up the stairs to see what was wrong. I held up the mitten helplessly.
She fell over, literally doubled over with the hilarity. "What the...?"
I know. I cannot explain what happened, except that I was apparently engrossed in the outcome of this week's Project Runway challenge. I must have, I don't know, lost count of some rows? Who knows. Will the five-year-old notice? Will she care? I don't know.
I do know that several years ago, I knitted a pair of mittens for my husband. I used the most gorgeous hand-spun wool, and I was so proud of customizing the pattern to fit his particularly long hand. I wanted to make sure they would be roomy, since he's a tall fellow and used to things not quite fitting him right. Well, I got a little gung ho. These mittens are long, people. Seriously long. And pointy. In fact, they are affectionately referred to around these parts as the cactus mittens. But you know what? They are cozy. And my husband wore them proudly through all these snowstorms we've been having around here, and commented each and every time how warm and dry his hands were inside these mittens.
Looks aren't everything.
Which brings me to the sweater. Oh yes, I have knitted a sweater. (I know! A whole sweater! Grown-up sized!) It's this very hip, comfy pattern from the original Stitch 'N Bitch book, and I was just about bursting with pride when I finished it. And then, months later, a fellow knitter pointed out to me that all of the stitches were twisted. I remember being flabbergasted... what do you mean, twisted? Well, it turned out that I'd been purling backwards ever since I taught myself to purl out of a book. Every single purl stitch I'd ever made was... backwards. Which means that every piece I'd knitted in stockinette stitch had these twisted stitches. Including my entire, gorgeous sweater. (I don't even want to tell you how much I spent on that yarn, or how many months I spent knitting that thing.)
You know what? It's still gorgeous. And very, very imperfect. And I'm okay with that. I'm proud of all these things that I've made, not because I did a flawless job or anything, but just because I made them. They contain my time, my care, and my good intentions. In the end, it simply feels good to have something made just for you.
Even if you're an alien. Na-nu, na-nu.