As she's never been particularly good at following assignment guidelines either, she will not only share with you those items currently on her Cutting Table but also any craft-related items on every other table in the cottage as well. Because just when a person finally gets their very own crafting area condensed into a portion of an old attic - where everything is close at hand, is decorated exactly how one wants, and is organized enough that one has a vague idea where things are - well then obviously, it's time to move.
When we decided to build, the insomniac knew she would likely have Separation Anxiety when her large collection of crafting supplies went into storage, so she took up knitting to keep herself occupied until we were reunited.
Little did she realize knitting would become such an obsession - to the exclusion of all else, some might say. House needs cleaning? Pffft. Nobody comes to visit. Laundry needs doing? Pffft. Nobody comes to visit. Meals need to be prepared? Well, if someone claims they're not really hungry for long enough, eventually someone's spouse will make us something to eat.
Let's start this assignment off with some finished projects, shall we?
|Rowan Tamara Glove Pattern|
The insomniac loved these fingerless armwarmers ever since she discovered the pattern in Rowan Knitting and Crochet Magazine number 48. And although she'd never tried the intarsia technique before, she didn't think it would be a problem as she'd previously made a Cowichan sweater for her father using the fair isle technique. Once. Like thirty-five years ago.
|The back looks much like a dog's breakfast, doesn't it.|
And really didn't have the calming effect one looks forward to when knitting.
After three attempts at intarsia, the entire thing was pulled apart and a fair isle pattern from the same magazine was selected to replace it. And because any project these days always culminates with the insomniac screeching, “Where is my **insert missing item here**?” which will require a trip to the basement to sort through all the craft boxes still unpacked because there's no place left to put anything else, she did not carefully plot out all the colours with her missing pencil crayons to see if they looked okay together and just started knitting.
As any prolific knitter will tell you, one of the biggest problems with knitting (besides the intarsia technique) is what to do with all one's projects after completion. (You'll notice the insomniac has categorized herself as a Prolific Knitter. Not a Good Knitter. Vastly different). And so she asked the youngest if she'd like the armwarmers, to which she graciously replied, “Of course, mum.” And to prove she really liked them a lot, she put them on in the car and carefully covered them over with the sleeves of her coat before we headed into the bookstore.
|In one's defense, her special order of non-pastel wool in shades|
of scarlet, purple and grey never arrived until after these were finished ...
In December, the insomniac inquired of her eldest whether his Significant Other might be interested in a slouchy hat with a pompom on the end for Christmas. “She doesn't wear hats. No point.”, he said. Doesn't mince words, the eldest.
But when they came for Christmas Dinner and his SO saw the youngest in her red slouchy hat with a pompom on the end, she said she liked it and wouldn't mind one for herself. And when asked whether she'd like a pair of mittens to match, she replied, “Thank you, but you already made me a pair last year.” A statement which one didn't believe for a second, but totally admired for the skillful way in which she'd managed to avoid receiving one more knitted item without offending a woman who might conceivably become her future Mother-in-Law. Nicely done, my dear girl. Nicely done.
|Unfortunately, the sock wool complemented the slouchy hat wool so well, |
the insomniac just couldn't help herself.
If you listen closely, you'll be able to hear the offspring hissing at one another:
Eldest: I'm not taking those socks. They're pink. You take them.
Youngest: I'm not taking them. I took the armwarmers. And the slouchy hat and matching mittens at Christmas.
|Even when one isn't knitting, the Night Table always contains |
potential knitting projects for someone's future enjoyment.
Or inspirational pictures for the day she might have
her own dedicated crafting area again.
Some people manage to make knitting look like an enjoyable pastime; not so the insomniac, who is probably the world's most awkward knitter. When she's not flipping needles across the room or dropping them between the cushions of her chair, you'd probably find it humorous to watch as she raises the double pointed needles perilously close to her face in order to see well enough to unknit her mistakes. Because it's always funny until somebody loses an eye.
|A dedicated knitter slaps a band-aid on any friction points and knits through the pain ...|
Most days you'll find the insomniac firmly planted in her knitting chair from sunup to sundown. And although she could knit well into the evening as we do have electric lighting in the Little Gothic Cottage, they're mostly to provide atmosphere and pretty much useless for doing anything practical.
Now we come to the unfinished projects portion of the assignment and let's be honest ... if a person has a damask box in their possession clearly labelled Unfinished Projects, it's safe to assume that box is filled to overflowing. Taking pity on her readers, only a small portion were exhumed for this assignment.
|An embroidered runner which will likely never be completed, |
despite the threaded needle suggesting otherwise ...
|Silkscreen samples, to be made into some thing at some point ... |
Although that grey scarf could almost be considered finished and
perhaps moved into the Completed Projects damask box.
|The Gothic Fingerless Gloves Project |
Might need a bit of pressing before continuing on with that one ...
|Have decided this piece will not be repaired as previously thought,|
but framed for display exactly as is.
Still planning on graphing out the pattern and sharing it with you all though.
And finally, we come to the Project of Shame - because although she may procrastinate on projects not meant for anyone in particular, she never does so with projects specifically promised to someone well over a year ago. So earlier this week, she went down into the basement, searched for the garbage bag containing Nightwind's coat, brought it upstairs and dropped it down next to the chaise in the large guest bedroom, which now also doubles as the insomniac's sewing room.
|And there it sat ...|
Today she opened the bag, withdrew the contents and laid them out in full view, hopefully providing the needed incentive to get cracking on it. To be clear, there is absolutely nothing worrisome about this project - the pattern is extremely simple, there are no sizing alterations required, most of the supplies have been located (except for the buttons and soutache braid, which are still missing but around here somewhere), the embroidery pattern on the capelet is exciting - and yet one keeps stalling, for whatever reason. To make matters worse, Nightwind has been an absolute gentleman about the whole thing, never once asking when he might be able to expect his coat to be finished.
|While you're here, did we decide on bats or spider web embroidery|
on the capelet, Nightwind?
Maybe Doctor Z. could schedule a follow-up assignment in another month, specifically requesting completion of ALL unfinished projects, since some of us seem to work best under pressure.
In the meantime, please check out this month's other participants, all of whom have likely passed their assignments with flying colours. They probably don't have ANY unfinished projects lying about ... epic fail for the insomniac.
Until next time, the insomniac wishes you nights of blissful sleep filled with pleasant dreams. Goodnight, my pretties.