Oh A-ann? Where ARE you? I know you said you’d be on vacation but it seems like you’ve dropped off the face of the earth or something. Turn on your GPS thingie so I can find you out there in the desert!
I have been quilting like a nut. LOVE THE QUILTING SO MUCH. I am trying to understand my deep loathing of The Template. But so far it seems quite possible to keep quilting without getting out the X-acto knife and cutting any templates. But I know that you, Ann, come here for the knitting. So I am going to lay some knitting on you. Hoo boy, I’ve been saving up for this.
It’s the Dishrag Parade people. To conserve bandwidth, this will be a thumbnail-ridden post–just click on the pictures to upsize (step INTO the dishrag). But in this post of few words (considering it’s me talking), all can witness one woman’s dishrag journey. How she played in the fields of the dishrag, how she striped, how she ombrayed, how she even intarsia’d her way to dishrag bliss. Prenez vos mouchoirs, mes amis! (Now switch to the Extended Entry and REVEL IN THE DISHRAG LUV!!!)
This was last summer’s Beach Knitting. I got tired of answering the question, ‘Whatcha knitting?’ with, ‘Um, a….[muffled] dishrag….’ Somehow, even for me with my raised consciousness about the Value of Old-Time Domestic Pursuits, knitting a dishrag is not something I’m eager to admit to some overbuffed woman on the beach. But I cannot tell a lie, I was knitting dishrag after dishrag. And loving it!
Here we go, with only the most ESSENTIAL commentary.
LOVE this color (Sugar ‘N Cream Summer Splash).
My Fresca Period:
It’s a pity there is no Fresca Can Ombre. Fresca-can fans have to fend for themselves.
The ‘new’ Fresca can has yellow in it. I don’t approve of it, mind you. The old Fresca can was good enough for me. Don’t mess with perfection! But for historical accuracy, I had to document the new Fresca can in dishrag form.
And don’t forget about:
Tab! Tab was the grownup glamour drink of my youth. Tasted so awful but you drank it anyway, to appear more teenager-like.
This is a scrappy little ombre-fest. Mix the ombres!
As the summer got hotter, my palette got icier.
My Dustbowl Period:
Found a bunch of 1930s colors in Sag Harbor’s Variety Store. Sent me into a tizzy of vintagey dishrags.
And you thought I shunned all pastels.
I had a whole cone of white Peaches & Creme. Then the urge to Use Every Scrap set in. This started with stripes, but soon led to:
I think it’s fair to credit the Gee’s Bend quilters for this development.
Soon this became my favorite thing. Little blasts of contrast.
You don’t have to slip the stitch, ya know.
But if you want to, you can.
It wouldn’t be fair not to show you the Ugly One. This one reminds me of the packaging that a horrible plastic toy might come in. What was I thinking?
And here’s the Weirdest One:
That patch in the center is knitted from the Peaches & Creme DOUBLE worsted. So it has a completely different hand, no drape whatsoever.
Where Are They Now? (A VH1 Behind the Dishrag Story)
No, I’m not suffering from Dishrag Poisoning. I gave nearly every one of these dishrags away. Why? Because all the friends who were having such a good time making fun of me knitting dishcloths? THEY ASKED ME TO GIVE THEM DISHCLOTHS. O the hypocrisy! O the shamelessness! O shut up, here’s a dishrag!
Here are some Serving Suggestions for the gifting of the dishrags.
For friends who are not very domestic, a plastic scrubby is a helpful hint. It says “You might want to use these things in the KITCHEN (which is to the left of the door as you enter your apartment).”
I don’t even remember who I sent these guys to, but it was all about the fun towel.
For an Ultra Platinum pal, send the dishrags in a felted box. Or 2 or 3.
Martha Stewart puts out a mean dishtowel set.
I nearly wept when I saw this scene in Leslie’s kitchen. She STYLED my dishrags.
Anyhoo, people, this is just in case anybody out there is feeling a little nutty about how many dishrags they’re knitting. You’ve got a ways to go before you catch me.