I was sorting through the basket of freshly laundered clothes this morning when I found the above. That is my Color Affection shawl, the first major selfish knitting project I started after having H-Bomb. Madelinetosh Tart, some Regia sock yarn, all of it from my stash. It was a three month project and yet, somewhere in the day-to-day, it fell in with the dirty laundry and wasn’t rescued in time. The colors bled, it snagged on something and ripped, and its trip through the dryer gave it a nice, fuzzy felt.
I’m heartbroken. That project was surprisingly difficult for being a bunch of garter stitch. H-Bomb learned how to respect Mama’s knitting after she pulled the needles out twice. There was the time the needle came out and she gleefully pulled, dropping a stitch down 18 rows. I should have taken it as a sign of impending doom and frogged, but I fixed it and finished it. Unconsciously, I had chosen the colors of my alma mater, UNM. The first time I wore it, UNM was playing Harvard in the opening round of the NCAA tournament. They lost. The next time I wore it, the head coach had announced he was ditching New Mexico for the greener pastures of UCLA. The next time I wore it, he refused to give back $1 million in earnest money from a contract. I was really considering calling the athletic director and offering him a deal: I’d burn the shawl in exchange for free tuition for my Ph.D.
But nope. The shawl met its mundane end in the washing machine.
Handknits are supposed to be used. Handknits are supposed to be worn. Sometimes, the worst happens. It’s just life.