Friday, March 16, 2007

Crappy hat an an apology

So I finished my hat. My lovely green stripey hat that matches my mittens (and technically my purse as well) and my cowl. Well. It seems I should have stuck with that size 10 circular needle after all, regardless of the lovely swatch that seemed fine using the size eights. I hate the hat. It isn't too short, but the crown is oddly tight on my head and the ends flare out so it looks horrible. This is like the fifth hat I have made from that pattern, and the first one I did not like. The cowl that I have been deluding myself about - "It is not too small. It just fits close. It is warmer that way" - well, I finally have to admit it is too small. After wearing it for ten minutes to drive DD to gymnastics camp and almost asphyxiating myself there is no reason to continue the ruse. The cheap side of me says to start a new hat and cowl, using the larger needles and knit right off the end of these items, unraveling them as I go. Or to unravel them first, balling the yarn as I go. The lazy side of me says to throw these away or donate them to charity (after all, there must be somebody out there with a nice dainty neck and a head that is less like a pumpkin and more like, say, a canteloupe) and just start with new yarn and a new attitude. I think the cheap side might have to win, in this case. Or maybe I will go with the cognitive dissonance side, and simply throw the leftover yarn bits AND the projects away and forget I ever knew they existed. Yeah. That sounds good. How long can this cold weather last anyway? Oh. Yeah. Right. I forgot where I live. It is cold until it is warm, and then it is warm until it is cold again. In between there is mud intersperced with snow showers and rain flurries. Or sleet. Then there is my favourit weather, cold enough to take your breath away but sun shining so bright that you roast through the windows when you are stuck in traffic. The next thing I have to do, is apologize. She won't read this, but I have to apologize to DD anyway. Maybe she will do a google search when she is in her thirties and find an archive of this blog, and get to read this apology. Maybe she won't, but either way it will make me feel better. So here goes. Dear DD. Yesterday when I came to get you at gymnastics and you were so excited to show me your tumble, and I clapped and cheered, please forgive me for being horrified inside that my daughter spent an entire week learning how to flop over with all the grace of an upturned frog. This is not to say that I was not proud as a peacock at your progress, that can be no further from the truth. Your frog flip was the best frog flip I have ever seen. But I am still a little sad, that of all the things you inherited from me, that you would get my lack of coordination and complete absence of grace. The other kids were cartwheeling and hopping around like dainty dandelion fluffs, and you were frog flipping and hitting the mat like a bag of rocks. Just remember that it is not your fault, and you are doing your best with the genetic mud puddle you were given, just as I am. At least with you I know what a mire of faulty DNA you are dealing with, and we can start working on it early. Kiss kiss. And today when you do the end of the week show, please remember that while you are not as graceful as that girl that can do aereal cartwheels and double saltos, you are also not as bad off as the boy whose showcase skill is walking back and forth with a beanbag on his head. Frog flip with abandon my child. We will be watching and cheering you on for sure.

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