Can knitting really make one crazy? Maybe, maybe not. I will not go through the details, but the Fair Isle vest I finished for Easter has returned to be made longer. Okay! First, I had to decide exactly how this can be done on a finished product, and one that has been washed twice and blocked twice. That means the wool has settled into each other and is attached to one another.
So after consulting everyone I trusted in the knitting circle I live in, I decided the best solution was J's solution. First put in a lifeline. What a great idea! That struck me as very sensible. Then cut the ribbing off, pick out the broken threads with a needle, and pick up the stitches on a cable needle.
So I put the vest in sight for about two weeks, studying it, and touching it, and thinking about cutting the ribbing off. Once the first stitch was cut, that was a permanent thing. Sigh!
Finally it was time. I put in the lifeline, held my breath, and snip, snip, snip-away went the ribbing. I carefully picked out the broken threads, and after some time I had a cable needle full of knitting stitches. Then I unknit that row and set everything up. It worked-and I am now knitting new motifs.
I made it sound easy, but it wasn't. I was under my own self-imposed angst. And now I moving along on it.
So, can knitting drive one crazy? I think when one is tested, your mind and ego are racing to remind you that you have no idea what you are doing, this is too hard, and you are certainly making a mess. They may be simple disappointments or difficulties, but the mind creates a huge obstacle to the perfect solution. The melodrama is tremendous.
But I am one who believes there are hidden gifts within friction. I am learning a higher skill, and I am fine tuning my perfected skill. I can learn to separate my identification with an object, and know that I am not stupid or that something is too hard. I have learned patience with my craft and with myself.
Well, what weird thoughts on such a beautiful bright Mother's Day.