I’m knitting my first garment, if it can be called that. It’s the Tulip Tank Top from Purl Bee, which is a scant short-row front crossed behind the back and finished with thin straps and a slightly cowled front. I blocked my Hemlock Ring Blanket and the dried octopus blocked out to a larger dried octopus. The edges don’t lie flat and I don’t know what I did wrong. It’s rumpled on the back of the couch right now, looking rumpled-squared just because of it’s horridness. I have to read up on frogging and reusing blocked yarn because that’s the only redeeming action I can think of to do with it. Our placemats are in the wash, and I couldn’t even throw it on the table.
These (the blanket and the tank) have been my longest projects in recent memory. I’ve been dreading picking up the needles and sliding the sticky cotton back and forth in short rows until I started picturing the end result. Back at school, in a chic, unique top. Washing it carefully in the utility sink in the basement, answering questions from passerby on what this special item is that demands the attention of a lost art (hand washing). I do this when I work out, too. Ab lines, sculpted hips, and firm triceps dance in my head when I’m neck deep in Pilates.
If anyone is wondering, this magic stops once the item is finished. No amount of wistful imagination is fixing the dried octopus blanket.