The baby sweater will no longer be made with the evil yarn. I somehow dropped a couple stitches and there is no way to see what you are doing with the bumpy evil yarn to pick them back up. (even in all its soft loveliness)

So? I had to rip it all out. And the yarn broke. And I went on-line and bought some new non-evil baby yarn. Not pastel. A blue denim blend of baby soft goodness. YAY for on-line yarn stores.

The evil, soft loveliness? Going to become a sweater for… ME. Made with BIG knitting needles. (Much easier with big needles) And most likely made by my mom.

** WARNING: FOLLOWING POST SUBJECT IS KNITTING. IT IS DULL. DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU HAVE NO INTEREST IN SAID SUBJECT. YOU MAY FALL ASLEEP **

No, this is not becoming a knitting blog. But I must vent. Why oh why do I make things so difficult? It’s all me. I know that. What has happened is something I do all the time.

Last night I went to the store to buy some yarn for the proposed baby sweater. My mom gave me a pattern and all I had to do was find the yarn. As I’m looking at all the baby yarns in their white and pastel colors I am saddened. WHY must it be pastel? I’m just not a big fan. Then I spot it. The most beautiful yarn. All soft and lovely. In with the baby yarns. Oh, how can I resist?

I checked out every yarn in the place. It is the yarn I MUST have. I buy too much but it is okay because I want to make myself something with the soft loveliness.

I pick up the kids on the way home and show my mom the yarn. A look of concern passes over her face. “It’s not really baby yarn.”

I go home, put the kids to bed and pull out my yarn. I pull out the pattern. I pull out my new how-to book. The one that explains all the abbreviations and terms. (I have mentioned I’m a newbie to this, haven’t I?) I pull out the #3 needles my mom loaned me.

I start to knit the gauge square…

Oh Lord in heaven! What the hell? Who made this yarn? What were they thinking? It is evil. Soft, beautiful, EVIL. It should come with a warning. Really. The warning should read:

** WARNING! NOT FOR BEGINNERS. THIS YARN IS EVIL. IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO USE. STEP AWAY FROM THE YARN NOW! DO NOT BE FOOLED BY THE SOFT LOVELINESS. **

So, I pulled out the beginnings of my gauge square. And then I started to knit. What you ask? Why? Have I mentioned the soft loveliness? It is SO BEAUTIFUL. The sweater will be beautiful. (Assuming I can actually knit it.)

I came close to weeping. Twice. For real. Once because of the evilness. Once because of the beauty. Now you all know. I will endure anything for the beauty. I can’t help it. I have considered getting regular yarn and beginning again. I can’t seem to do it. Not to say I won’t relent. Or never finish the sweater. It’s a good thing it is sized for 6 months. The way it’s going it will probably fit a one year old. That gives me 15 months to finish this thing. I think it may take that long.

Sigh. Why do I always have to make things so difficult?

• view the loveliness/hide the evil

Since last week’s goal update:

• One kid getting over mono.
• Two kids with strep.
• Eleventy million trips from couch to kitchen & back. (with juice, water, medicine, etc.)
• Two trips to the doctors.
• Lost 5 pounds.
• Did yoga for strength and pilates (advanced level pilates- except for modified roll-ups).
• Kept sink clean, planned meals for the month, kept up with the laundry.
• Had a photo shoot in the kitchen.
• Discovered new downfall to diet – cinnamon almonds – yum!
• Got concussion when youngest slammed his rock-hard head into my chin while I was picking him up.
• Applied for two more jobs.
• Applied for writing grant.
• Finished knitting a scarf. My first knitting project EVER.
• Knit a gator.
• Stayed up too late.
• Got a flower from a stranger.

I’m learning to knit.

After being shown about 900 times over the course of my life – I FINALLY get it! Yay for me. Now I must practice, practice, practice. I thought I’d try a scarf to start. (as soon as I stop having to pull it all out every 4 rows or so)

Any suggestions?

I’m thinking my sudden prowess with the knitting needles has come from my Aunt Bea who tried to teach me 800 of those 900 times as a child. She spent countless hours and unsurpassed amounts of patience trying to teach me. She passed away about three weeks ago. Just 11 weeks shy of her 100th birthday. I’d love to tell you she lived a full life right up until the end but unfortunately she spent the last 20 years or so in a nursing home. The last 10 of which she didn’t know who I was when I went to visit her. And I’m embarrassed to admit, I did not visit her nearly enough.

I was planning to write a heartfelt remembrance to her for the last couple weeks but although I have warm feelings and wonderful memories of her, there just aren’t THAT many things I remember.

I do remember her staying with us in the summers while my parents worked. I remember her living on the west coast in the winters. I remember her making tea and letting my brother and I dunk the tea bag too many times as she reminded us she liked it pale. She never yelled though. She always laughed. Every single time.

I remember her sitting on the floor to play board games. I remember her letting me try to attach her garter to her stocking. I was fascinated by them and didn’t understand why she wouldn’t wear nylons like everyone else I knew. I never saw her in pants or a skirt. She always were a full slip under her dresses.

My Aunt Bea took a nap every day. She worked as a bookkeeper before she retired. She never married. Never had children. She was more a Grandmother to me than my real Grandmother. She was 20 years older than my dad. She was 65 when I was born.

Beatrice Higgins knit matching sweaters for my dolls and I. Purple cardigan with alphabet letters on the border. Fuzzy dogs & doghouses for my brother. Matching hats that always had a pompon on top. Blankets and scarves and mittens.

She was a knitting machine who donated millions of baby blankets to church bazaars even when she first went into the nursing home and could barely see or hold the knitting needles.

I have one blanket she made for my oldest. I think she was sure I’d have a girl. I think we all thought he’d be a girl. I still have the little coral blanket she knit wrapped in plastic, waiting for a girl to be born into the family. She also knit a delicate white sweater with blue trim. She knit it as soon as he was born. I have pictures of him in it. I’ll have to go find them.

I didn’t intend this to be a tribute to her… but I’m glad I finally did it. Aunt Bea, I miss you.