Ah, knitting. You wonderful little microcosm of life. I turned 31 this year, and it seems like more things bother me these days — my step-dad used to say, “Don’t let the turkeys get you down,” but it feels like the turkeys are multiplying at an alarming rate.
But knitting is always my comfort — until failure strikes. I bought the yarn for a Maxi-Cape from Morehouse merino farm with my birthday money, and when the yarn came, I was so excited. It’s like rope — bulky, thick, a wonderful shade of oatmeal brown — and I couldn’t wait to start. So I did. Knitting and knitting and knitting, row after row — it was a big project. Then sometime in November, I realized I wouldn’t have enough yarn. Being frugally minded, I waiting until 2 weeks ago to reorder two more shanks. When they came, I finished it up in a snap. Imagine my dismay when I sewed on the buttons, wove in the last little ends, and put it on. I looked like the Pillsbury dough boy, but did not feel like giggling. It was bumpy and lumpy, and “we were not amused.”
But this does happen to me every now and again. I get very excited about a project, I imagine it one way in my mind, and the end result is far from my ideal. It can be difficult, especially after a long haul like this cape, to keep your emotional bearings about you.
What’s that, you say? Poor Liz, conquered by her own knitting, wrapped up in a knotty mess? No, my dears, no, no. This turkey will not get me down. No, sir. I ripped it to shreds, debasing it into its former evolutionary state as 11 odd shanks of yarn. I have plans to make this yarn pay, and pay it shall. Someday it will be my Retro coat — I’ll mark the date I conquer it for you. Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war…this yarn’s day will come. I will bide my time. (Can you tell I’m teaching Julius Caesar right now?)
I did, however, finish my Tidal Wave socks which have been in the making for6 years now. They were a Nevada day project with my Mom and Aunt Jane. I think both of them finished years ago. I finished ONE sock at the time, and have let the other one languish until now. So this year, for Christmas, I will have “Socks de Triomphe” to wear.
Maybe that is what I like best about knitting. Not the steady pace of it, or the concreteness of a repeating pattern. Not the beautiful colors or the pride of making your own clothes and accessories. The feeling that, no matter what else in your life is outside your breadth or your control, yarn is always ready to be conquered. It can put up a hell of a fight — but I will always emerge victorious.