So you recall yesterday’s post about the blanket I’m making? I worked in the ends last night and am dithering a little about what color or colors to use for the border. It’s a delay tactic and I know it and I don’t care. As much as I’ve sometimes moaned about this project and the endless knitting and how long it was taking and those freaking long expanses of garter stitch, I have absolutely loved this project. LOVED it.
This has been one of those rare convergences of pattern, yarn, and color choice that, combined, add up to perfect. That doesn’t happen too often in my world and when it does, can you blame me for wanting to hold onto that for a while longer?
I’ve mentioned the melancholy that comes with the completion of any project I’ve loved and I’m sure feeling it now. I’m not saying I’ll frog my blanket just so I can knit it again, but–I’ve been looking at yarn and dreaming of starting another one, despite what I wrote yesterday about rebound romances. I’m craving the satisfaction of knitting a big honking warm blanket, of always having something on the needles that I can just pick up and knit on ’til the cows come home, of having my knitting basket full of yarny love, peace, and fleece . . . so okay, I may be slightly addicted to this pattern/recipe/way of knitterly life. Again, I don’t care. I love this project. What’s more, I have a stash and I have (clean) needles and I know how to use them, so you will not be astonished if another one finds its way onto my needles and into my woolly little heart.
I must knit.