See this blog? It should probably be renamed the Don’t Try This At Home blog. Because whether it’s knitting, crochet, running, or general adulting, these pages sometimes feel like a catalogue of mild inadequacy.
That baby blanket I mentioned last post? Well I knitted my portion, and all was good… or at least as good as you can expect for a blanket knitted by three different people using three completely different kinds of stitches. Let’s call it… unique (but it is plenty snuggly enough for a baby).
But that’s not where today’s inadequacy comes in, oh no. Having completed my portion (late), I had some yarn left over, so I began crocheting the border, which would at least unify our three knitted panels. A simple scallop stitch seemed like a good idea. As I hooked, I kept an eye on the size of the remaining heap of yarn, because as we all know, crochet gobbles yarn. It seemed OK, though.
You can tell where this story is heading, can’t you? Shall we just skip straight there, right past the ooh-this-is-starting-to-look-like-it’ll-be-a-close-call stage, past my renewed optimism when I discovered the remnants of yarn from the portions that my friends had knitted, past the nervous hooking as I faced the fact that this was turning into a pretty hardball game of yarn chicken. I tried everything to escape the inevitable. I scavenged extra inches from as-yet-unwoven ends that my friends had left on their portions of the knitting, I worked my stitches a little tighter…
And then I ran out of yarn, about four scallops before the end.
So the poor baby still doesn’t have her blanket. Various solutions have been suggested by well-meaning people… and by the Stoic Spouse. These include (i) Finish it off with vaguely similar yarn (such as the wool in the final picture of this post) and hope that the new parents are too sleep-deprived to notice. (ii) Finish it in REALLY BRIGHT RED and call it a design feature. (iii) Shout ‘Hey look, a squirrel!’ to distract the baby’s parents whenever they’re about to notice the flaw. But really, I should take the sensible-but-tedious approach and rework the entire border in a less yarn-ravenous stitch, shouldn’t I? Sigh.
On a more positive note, Baby is by all accounts doing marvellously. Baby is beautiful. (I’ve seen photos, and am working up to asking the mum whether she can face receiving visitors yet.) Baby has a just-perfect name. Baby is busy getting on with the important business of figuring out How To Human. But listen, kiddo: some of us are in our 40s and we still haven’t got that stuff worked out, so don’t try telling me you’ve got it sussed already. Yeah yeah, you weren’t born yesterday – you’re a whole nine days old. Your mum MISSED PUB KNIT-NIGHT to go and give birth to you, so heaven knows what’s happened to her priorities. I just hope that at the grand old age of nine days, you don’t yet consider yourself too old to accept a handmade baby blanket made by your mother’s friends. It may not be a perfect blanket, but it was made with love.
Oh, and I might have accidentally bought yarn to make myself a warm cardigan. I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA HOW THAT HAPPENED!