I finished Blaze.
And feeling burned.



I'm sure there is a funny observation to make about that thing crawling across my upper plexus. But for some reason,I'm a woman without humor, at this time.

Just in case that shot does not adequately represent my personal anguish, let me clarify: This little fucker is too big.

This is my back doing a pretty good imitation of a Raspberry Sharpei.



By the time I had walked back into the house after the picture was taken, the sweater had fallen off both shoulders.

Please don't tell me it looks okay. 'Cause it don't. Need a comparison shot? Take a peek at the designer's intended look, here.

Even my sweet, good-natured husband struggled to find something positive to say. His best shot: "Can you can knit some kind of insert to put back there, like a low-riding humpback thingie?"

I admit that I worried about the medium being too big. But having a license to conceal 38-D Magnums, on a smallish body frame, I neither wanted to err on the side of going too small, and end up with this look:



I'm not really sure what's next for this most recent bain of my knitsistence. I'm thinking of offering it to my younger, larger- boned, smaller-busted sister. (The one with issues with her issue.) If she'll have it.

But, love it or hate it, an Effin' FO still deserves a decent wrap-up:

Pattern: Knitty's Blaze
Size: Medium (bitch.)
Yarn: Cascade Indulgence
Size Needles: 5 and 6

Since I had this yarn for more than a year, it qualifies as another ball buster. Ain't that the saddest irony?

Open House Correction
In my last post, I edited out the explanation for the Ode. (I was trying to practice "positive posting", as my hubby recently told me that my blog's been a bit of a bummer, as of late, and the preface to the ode was a bit of a whine). So, to clear up the confusion, the graduation open house for my son is not until June 5. The poem was a representation of my overall attitude toward the upcoming celebration.

I've got a butt-load of thoughts and frets (mostly frets) as I prep for the shindig. I hope I can find the time to get them down. Lucidly.

That being said, I do have a bit of advice for anyone who is still reading this. If you're thinking of starting up scrapbooking, from scratch, with the sole purpose of creating a memory book representing 18 years of a high school graduate's life, with only three weeks to get it done, please, take the scallop-edged scissors away from your neck (they'll only leave a curvaceous, hickey-looking mark, anyway.) and call your doctor.

Labels: Boobs and Pee and Poo, Crapbooking, Knit Done, Passages