I am in love! Obviously, it’s lust really. Infatuation. Isn’t it always at this stage in the game? Love comes lately if the bastard ever shows at all – even on a promise.
But never mind semantics now. I’m beyond that. Just look!
Oh it’s craziness incarnate. Did you ever see a more incompatible pairing as that pattern and me? It’s never going to work. I don’t have the time. I don’t have the skill. That, that *thing* is going to be my undoing. My unravelling. I don’t mind a bit of colourwork. Remember my houndstooth check? The pattern I eventually convinced myself didn’t look too alarmingly like a tessellation of swastikas? Well, that, you see, that, that was tricky, a little attention required, but eventually it assimilated into my brain. It’s just a four row repeat, see. Two rows with mainly the background colour, two with mainly the contrast colour. Knit it for an inch and you’re not really thinking anymore. Okay, so I did louse it up on a hot train diverted one afternoon from London Bridge via Elephant and Castle and had to spend an evening ripping the wrong part back while trying to like Dollshouse (Whedon not Ibsen – which probably serves as a three word review).
But what future me and this thing? This new/shiny? This distraction-havoc wreaked on my brain by the seductive power of Vogue Knitting? Oh the strange lands you encounter if you let Ravelry be your guide. Ravelry is like facebook but with the addition of knitting – and the subtraction of anything that isn’t knitting. (Well there is crochet but, obviously, no one cares.)
See this pattern? See it. I cannot follow a pattern chart like that while watching Lost (three word review: Marry me, Sayid. Yes, not really a review, but I swear that’s all I think of when I’m watching. But if I was knitting this dress I wouldn’t be able to let my brain cloud over with only that lustful thought, which, in truth, isn’t really about marriage so much as how surely, *surely* no one character would get tied up quite that much in a TV show unless the actor had gotten it specifically written into his contract. (And if Sayid married me I think we would have a similar kind of contract.)) But, anyway, that pattern chart will make me cry and rip back over and over and make my fingers bleed (or at least hurt (at least a bit.))
So what am I going to have to do to get this dress, this potential hours of work, while I probably listen to all the classic-books-on-CD I have left (Crime and Punishment is one of them, which I have been studiously not getting my hopes up about seeing as how I do actually know it is not as filthy as the title would suggest to a sick puppy like me, but I am way more entranced my the idea of since reading about Dostoyevsky being faux executed – which I won’t go into here as I am way off topic (shut up, there so is a topic – anyway that’s what brackets are for) but you can google it.)
But, yes, that pattern chart of headachey-magnitude is just the start. This pattern is beginning to look as hopelessly appealing as that guy at the party who turned up late and drunk from another party and is not chatting me up, even, so much as explaining about how there is this other woman he’s quite seriously involved with but they’re split up right now so it’s okay and I’m not even listening because he is so staggeringly pretty (or I am so staggeringly drunk) that it has made me deaf to anything that is a perfectly sensible no-type reason. ‘Cause, you know, I accept you’re probably not going to read this pattern in much detail unless you knit and have also been over come by dress-lust, but what cracked up shit is this? Shaping done by changing the needle size rather than increasing the number of stiches. That is surely some kind of insane moon-knitting. What-what?
But I mean, for serious, four different needles sizes? But I hate to knit sample swatches. And isn’t that just what I am going to have to do right here. And not even starting on the fact that I hate it when I have to go buy another pair of needles (sometimes I pick out a pattern just because I have that size needles) but this damn *thing* here is going to involve masses of prep work. (Ew! Prep work! Not want!) Knitting sample swatches in the different needle gauges and measuring and calculating (because I trust that L/XL size absolutely not at all – especially if that model is wearing just one size below and her body and my body couldn’t be more dissimilar objects than they are and still exist in the same universe.
But despite all this: I still want. I’m protesting here like Canute, just to prove to you that I couldn’t turn back this tide if I wanted to. Me, you know, I might know long words but underneath all the polysybality I am single-sybbed id-girl. Following my Pie-id Piper to the ends of the earth.
Oh look, though, I’ve bought some wool in satisfyingly retro colours. Maybe I’ll make a sample swatch whilst watching Crank (three word review: Memento for Dummies).
