Tuesday, 15 July 2014

That horrible hat

Lately I've been noticing that I've changed in how I make decisions about my projects, once it was about the finished project.  Would someone notice that a yarn over was missed in a shawl?  Nope, so whatever, I'd add in another stitch randomly so the stitch count would match and carry on.  Would someone notice the tiny mistake in the colourwork twelve rows back?  Nope, I'd knit on.  Would anyone notice that there are 6 colours being used in a fair isle hat and I hadn't cut them between lines?  It only pulls a little, I'll be the only one to know, it's fine.

But I'm different now.  Now the answers to those questions are, "no one else will know, but I will, and I want it to be perfect, perfect for myself."  Part of it is the fact that I'm a perfectionist and have come to appreciate that little things really do make a difference to the overall product and I'm happier putting in the effort to make things right.  But part of it is that I often used to think that since something was only for me it wouldn't matter, and part of growing up has been realizing that if I deserve to have things done well too, and that if something is for me there's all the more reason to make it nice for myself.

My first project that wasn't a scarf was a hat.  I was in high school and while I wasn't broke I was saving for university so money was tight.  Lewis Craft had a drive around Christmas where if you bought yarn from them, then knit it into hats, mitts, or other warm things for the needly and brought the item and your receipt back they would refund the price of the yarn.  I thought this was brilliant so I decided I would make a hat.  I got the yarn and needles and diligently kept the receipt.  I started the hat.  It was taking a really long time so I decided it would go faster if I knit more loosely.  I thought this was also brilliant.  Needless to say the hat was terrible.  Unspeakably terrible.  I lost it at school but found it again to I could take it to the store.  I drove to the mall but when I got there the hat was missing (I have since concluded that God was trying to prevent me from making a total fool of myself).

Sometimes I'll think of that hat when I'm ripping back to fix something small, the difference between how I approach knitting now so different from how I approached it then making it seem almost like the decisions were made by two different people.  Perhaps, in a way, they were.

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