Knitting. I Do It.

(Let's just pretend the past five months of non-blogging didn't happen, OK? I miss you and if I don't start somewhere, I'll never start again and never get to talk to you again. So, onward.)

I've been knitting. Yeah, so, you say? Well, all summer I did not knit. I spun, I wove, I learned, I even sewed a little. Deets on all that later, if I remember.

But now I want to knit. I want every inch of a lovely yarn in a heartswoony color to move slowly through my fingers, throw by throw, bamboo needles slipping along. I want to knit mindless stockinette, with a little fillip of color or cable or lace here or there. I want to knit for me.

I want to knit Yarnbee Cheryl's completely adorable Cottage Garden pullover from the latest Twist Collective. I've met Cheryl here and there in classes and such at WEBS; she is just as adorable as this pattern.

Nothing in my stash quite worked for this, despite my best efforts, so I ended up treating myself to a sweater's worth of Rowan Felted Tweed, and here's my progress 19 days after casting on:

I'm not quite as far along as Kelly, who plans to wear hers to Rhinebeck - she's about 25% of the way along now, and I'm at maybe 10%? OK, OK, I'm at 5%, although Kelly started only 2 days before me.

Now, I really don't mean to beat myself up here. I've had a stress-filled and chaotic summer - just the usual work nonsense, combined with a rainy, rainy, I-hate-rainy June - and I intend to be good to myself now. So, understand that I'm not comparing my progress to Kelly's, I'm really not.

What I am doing is wondering why I rarely finish anything I start for myself. The other day I was re-reading Abby Franquemont's blog post on the state of being waylaka. Go read it, so I don't have to attempt to convey something Abby has already written about so well. What struck me there was the concept of doing something right, and if necessary, doing something over and over and over again until it was right, because doing something right is what distinguishes a worthwhile adult from a lazy good-for-nothing. From a waylaka.

I am most certainly a worthwhile adult, in many, many ways, and I suppose that's why the pile of unfinished projects here bothers me so much. I can easily let go of attempts that didn't work out, but to take one example, since I'm talking about knitting here, the unfinished sweaters here that are wonderful patterns, in great yarn, in colors and styles that suit me - those unfinished sweaters in the bins hereabouts bug me. There's really no excuse for not finishing them except... I got a little bored. A little distracted by New! Shiny! somewhere else. And I'm a little lazy. A little waylaka.

I'm not happy about that. Let's see if we can get this simple, classic, adorable Cottage Garden in perfect colors, in great yarn, finished this winter, OK? For me, for me.

(Did I mention I missed you?)