I'm working away at the red sweater. Pleased as punch. It is so nice when something you are winging it on is working out. Or seems to be working out.
It still is possible to fail miserably and I would be an idiot not to acknowledge that.
But I think you will agree with me. It's looking pretty darn good.
Besides red knitting, I did do some shopping for baby yarn. I hemmed and hawed over some soft girly pink yarn. I thought and thought and thought about what I was going to make, but the pink yarn did not speak at all. It waited in the most delicate way for me to guide it, as if it was some Victorian miss, waiting for it's mother.
All right already, but this is the new millennium. No little missish-ness allowed here. There were huge skeins of a simple acrylic, a heavier than an average baby yarn, calling, "Hey, what about me? I'm first string. I'll take care of many babies. Knit me fast!"
And then there was a daintier call, ladylike, but modern, from a high shelf,
reminding me about quiet conversations we have had about how good it would look on the edge of something delicate and dainty and about how it wanted to be something just a little more. So I took the yarn that would speak and brought it home.
Something with a little loft. Something with a little dainty. I grabbed a strand from each ball of white and started to knit with it. I needed to get a feel for it. Impressive loft. Light with just a hint of weight. Warm and cushy and amazingly good. So I kept on just knitting. It seems the yarn wanted to be a blanket. A good plain garter stitch blanket. So there you have it. Mundane.
But I did have that nice little bobbly dainty stuff to use us too. I have a plan. Wait till you see what happens with that!
Did I mention a little yarn accident that I had? But only a little one.
Sigh. Zauberball Lace. Bright anything but winter colours. Who could resist.