••• Sunday, April 03, 2005

Blazing a Trail of Sorrow 

Warning: The following post has a Profanity Classification of F5

I’ve been kicking some Blaze sleeve ass. Finally.

In fact, out of all three (so far) Blaze sleeves I’ve created, this is by far my best work. Nearly perfect. Too perfect.

But let's see what you think. Here’s a little, knittelligence test: One of these sleeves does not belong with the other. Which one is it?

Okay. You’re too smart for my clever. That was a trick question. There was no wrong or right answer, so let's just move on to the crux, or in this case, the elbow of the matter.

In this pattern, you must end each sleeve and the body of the sweater, on the same pattern row. This is a key element of the garment design.

I know this now.
I knew it then.
It matters not.
For I am a knittard.
And my sleeves don't match.

If I continue to Blaze this trail of perfection, and end this sleeve on the prescribed row, one sleeve will be longer than the other. ::Or is it shorter? No, it's longer...right? Yeah,longer. k.::

You may recall, the current sleeve in production is actually the third sleeve I’ve produced for this sweater. I had to ravage the first, practically perfect sleeve, because I forgot to switch to a larger needle after the ribbing.

I make this seemingly innocuous point to create for you, the reader, an appropriate context for my current Stattitude (i.e. State of Attitude) toward this once favored project. That stattitude be Knitfucked.

What to do? Well, I figure I have three options available to me :
1) Fuck-up the currently perfect sleeve-in-progress, so it will match it’s fucked-up, older sister.

2) Frog back already fucked-up sleeve number 1 (aka 2) then fuck-it-up better, so it more closely resembles its perfect, as yet unfucked-up, younger sister.

3) Box up the entire project, along with my collection of vintage, spring action diaphragms, and send it off to my favorite charity, Mrs. Wane's Home for Women Watching the Hair Grow (A safehouse for first-time self-bikini waxers, who just can't pull the strip. I have it on good authority that our very own Rabbitch is a primary benefactrix) Then cast on for this thang, for Miss Thang, with this:

What do you think?

Psssst, Norma are you buying any of this?

Tomorrow, the poncho, she's mine.

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