I loved knitting this baby sweater the first time around. Though I rarely enjoy making the same thing more than once, I figured knitting this pattern again would induce a mildly comatose but highly warm and pleasant sensation akin to being high on Vicodin. But alas, no. By the time I hit the button band and seaming, little as there is, I completely lost interest and let the thing hang around unfinished. I knew how it was going to turn out; I'd already seen this movie.
The addition of the crocheted flower was a suggestion made by one of our regulars at the knitting shop, and it's my favorite thing. I'm still amazed that I can crochet anything. Hell, I'm still wondering who's doing all the writing, knitting, sewing, painting -- anything creative -- around here. I look at things that I've made and fall in love, but I don't associate myself with having made them. I sense it's a God thing (meaning some force creates through me/us), for those of you who might know this feeling. Does anyone know this feeling?
Anyhow, though early on I found myself over knitting it, it's very sweet, and I'm eager to send it to Ailey, the baby girl of a friend who is my friend through Mister Stevens. And so the sweater is off to motherless Brooklyn*, which is appropriate, seeing as I know the baby's dad, not her mom.
*I have not read this book, but I have a crush on the title. Same with Bring Me Your Saddest Arizona, which I have read and did find beautiful and moving.
I leave you with the devil paw of doom.
Note to Heather: Hello, friend! The granny square blanket, part of which you see in the photos, is about 1/3 joined. The rest of the squares cry out from my sewing room floor, and probably will for at least another month.