You like your life in a free-form style,
You'll take an inch but you'd love a mile,
There never seems to be quite enough,
Floating around to fill your lovin' cup,
("Jackie Blue", Ozark Mountain Daredevils)
Well.....at last, I've finished the dratted Little Red Riding Hoodie....
...a garment which has virtually sucked the life out of me for months. I'm totally SICK of the thing. But it's finally finished, thank God. (Except I haven't sewn those frogs down yet.)
(You can click on the picture to enlarge it.)
Originally, in the beginning, when I was sketching out how it would have to be knit, I had wanted lengths of green leaf trim for the button bands and the wrists. I thought that the leaf trim would be so cunningly pretty. But the time length that I procrastinated about putting it on the LRRH convinced me that my continued delay was actually due to the fact that--- deep down in my heart --- I just didn't like the leaf trim on there.
Nope, the trim just didn't look right, no matter how I arranged it, and thus my prolonged hesitation.
So I chose this way of finishing the LRRH---black frogs for closure and giant tassels on the drawstrings. It looks cute when you tie the drawstrings into a bow and let them hang down the front.
I would say "Tah Dah!" but I know that a lot of people probably think the garment is hideous. But I like it. And I'm sure I'll get a lot of wear out of it this winter.
I'm going through some difficulties these days and I'm glad I finished the thing because I need the relaxation of knitting on something else for a change. I'm even to the point that I can't think up decent topics for this blog. Don't know what's the matter..... ...but my therapists are like cerebral battering rams, mentally pounding at me over and over... .
My therapists don't play around---they are on me like white on rice, every minute of three days of therapy a week...
People think therapy is just sitting in a chair and boring the hell out of your therapist by talking about one's youth. But that's not it. It's actually a lot of work---and if your therapists are like mine, they will eventually beat you down to a malleable, humble state. I thought I was like that until I saw my psychiatrist last week.
And he surprised the hell out of me by substantially increasing the dose of one of my more serious meds, Seroquel. I am absolutely mortified about that. The increase is hundreds of milligrams more than that of the other patients in my group. What's up with that?
Goddang, AM I THAT CRAZY?
I always joke around behind the therapists' backs and amuse the other patients by calling Seroquel "animal tranquilizer".
Gallows humor, I guess....
I used to be known as quite the "wild child"..... but that's all gone now. I feel like these meds have beat me down into a colorless, melancholy, and sad creature. The only place to find the roots of my wild child personality is in my knitting, where I vicariously knit madly colorful things on the fly, making up the patterns as I go---the color changes performed in deference to the changes in my mood...
Oh well, didn't mean to whine at you. I think I'll go upstairs and look into the Magical Yarn Closet and pull out some unfinished object to knit on. The shawl with a ruffled trim. Or maybe the "Animal Crackers" leopard socks. Or that totally wild cardigan which just needs sleeves.
ooh-hoo, jackie blue,
Making wishes that never come true,
Going places where you've never been,
ooh jackie, you're going again....