Had to give my psyche a break from knitting my life. That hem is weighing heavy on me!
Clif lured me in to watch the Bulls-Heat playoff game last night, which is a great way to get some long-haul knitting done and also to get a rich, full running commentary from your kid about the state of the NBA playoffs.
The perfect project for this: Hilary Smith Callis‘s sublime Citron Grande. SO CLOSE TO THE END of Citron Grande. All that stood between me and glory was the ruffle. Twelve rows of a thousand stitches or so. I was on Row 6 when the game started.
It took about 45 minutes to do Row 7. And right about when Nate Robinson began his crazy takeover of the game, I officially ran out of yarn.
I guess I knew it was going to happen. My plan was to see how mingy the part-ruffle looked, then either keep the part-ruffle or ditch the ruffle altogether. Seeing all that knitting on the needle, I wasn’t ready to make a decision, so it seemed like a good idea to finish out the ruffle in another color in order to a) see how it would look and b) do a ton of knitting that might be totally pointless.
During halftime, I decided to go Koigu-diving. I dug out that one skein of black Koigu that I bought ten years ago. Black Koigu??? What on earth was I thinking? Is there a bigger oxymoron than Black Koigu?
I do not know if this is going to work. But black yarn is more fun than I thought it was. It’s so absolute.
Here’s a 1901 Josef Hoffman brown chair edged in black. And a brown shoe, 18th century, edged in black. Oh, Pinterest, you are such trouble.
(The Bulls won. Clif assures me we are Bulls fans. Just happy to be included.)
What’s the weirdest yarn in your stash? Black Koigu definitely takes the cake for me.