Fizzled Sizzle
I don't think I mentioned this, but Miss Gwenyth decided to wean herself from the breast while we were camping. It was a tad sooner than I had planned, but whenever we sat down to nurse, she would drink for a moment or two, then look at me and say, "All done!"
I didn't really mind, except for the fact that my measurement shrunk 2 inches in less than 2 weeks! Now, I have never been amply endowed in this department anyway, and nursing is about the only time in my life I've gotten to experience certain fun things in life, like cleavage. I was prepared for the shrinkage, but my knitting wasn't. Foolish Charity, I cast on for Sizzle based on my measurements at the time. Yes, I knew the nursing was coming to an end. Yes, I have weaned a baby before, and was prepared for the results. No, I didn't take this into account when I measured. Those measurements are so far off now, that a completed Sizzle would immediately become a big, loose, saggy sack. And the sexy low neckline? Not so sexy when there's nothing to show for it. When realization struck, I wrote emails in a panic, to the Knit List, and to the designer. I was hoping that I could rip back the front, re-knit it in a small, and then put it together with the larger back. No dice. Ah, well. I know that my own slightly perfectionist personality would never allow such a thing, but I was hoping for a solution that would allow me to keep the finished back, and not frog the whole darn thing.
All the Christmas knitting I've been doing has helped take my mind off it, but it's still sitting there, looking at me with a sad little face. While I was reading Ruth's blog this morning, she mentioned something about seasonal knitting, and I realized that the seasons are changing (yes, I know, in Canada seasons change, swiftly - I was blocking it out), and I'd better get busy. If I return to it after the second mitten is done, there is still a chance I'll get to feel the sun on my arms once this year while wearing it. Hey, sometimes we get an Indian summer in late September. There's always hope, right?
