Category: Confessions

The Mountain Hare Hat: what a challenge.

What am I working on now, you might ask. Well, I’m working on my frustration and trying for patience and acceptance. Let me tell you why.

This is Alice Starmore’s, Mountain Hare Hat featured in the publication, “Glamourie”, by same said author. It’s quite a substantial hardcover publication with 278 pages, containing 11 knitting patterns and 7 costumes and stories illustrated to go along with the patterns.

I’ve had my heart set on making this hat since I saw it online years ago. I purchased the kit and borrowed the book from the library. But that wasn’t good enough. I had to buy the book even though I knew I wouldn’t be making any of the other patterns contained within.. But it’s just a glorious book and worth having in one’s own library. The photographs and the stories are enough in themselves to justify the price. The price is substantial but like I said before, worth having.

I knew when I bought the kit, and contemplated, making the hat that it was not a beginers level pattern. But I was just over the line of a beginner and had been knitting sweaters and mittens and hats and shawls and scarves and socks, etc. There were always expected challenges in everything that I knit., but this pattern is kicking my ass.

The kit came with the yarn only and no pattern attached, which is unusual, but I bit the bullet because I was so in love with the hat. The yarn is Alice Starmore’s Hebridean, 2 ply. The colors are well named pebble beach, corncrake, driftwood and sundew. It was the colors that drew me in and the one of a kind design. The yarn is rustic and the hand dyed colors are taken from nature.

So what could go wrong? Everything, it seems, from cast-on to working with the chart. I started and ripped out at least 4 times before I put the pattern, the book and the dreaded object aside. I was worried that knitting, and then ripping it out too many times would ruin the yarn. For some reason, I left it sitting out on my baskets of yarn and it bothered me, it bothered me bad that I couldn’t get it done. It wasn’t the pattern’s fault, nor was it the yarn’s fault… there is only one other thing to blame and it is me.

So, after I finished christmas knitting and the new year celebrations had come and gone, I decided to start on the Mountain Hare Hat once again. I tore out what I had already started and left abandoned and wound the yarn into balls. Then I made my first mistake.

I started my cast-on with the larger needle size and it was supposed to be the smaller needle size indicated in the pattern. But by the time I realized it, I was through with the brim. The next mistake was that I thought that it would be alright. Well, as you can see, it’s not alright. As I began on the body of the hat, the brim gave kind of a flare. Dammit, I’m not going to tear it out again. I’m going to just keep going.

In the brim are a row of french knots. I was supposed to make them with a contrasting color but after the first few knots, I said to myself, f*** it. I was following the instructions, but somehow the knots were ending up on the inside of the brim. So not only are they not the right color but they’re on the inside of the cap. But I quickly convinced myself that I can push them through. They’re not happy about it, but I think I can do a little fixing to make them stay on the right side.

So, “soldier on”, said I to myself. I’m not ripping this out again. At this point I decided that, make all of the mistakes that you will, but I will not rip back. Sure, I will “tink” back if I’ve made a knit stitch where I should have made a purl stitch, but I’m not ripping back for anything. I will finish this hat and wear this hat, be it a big fat mess or at least acceptable.

So, as you can see from the image, it’s not a big fat mess, but it’s barely acceptable. I’ve tried it on and it fits great. In spite of all of these problems that I’m having with this pattern, I’m having fun. I am what they call a process knitter and not necessarily a product  knitter. Maybe when I’ve finished, and I’ve blocked it, some of the mistakes will be buried by this beautiful yarn.

I still have a long way to go. I’m only on row 27 and there’s upwards of 60 some rows, then there’s all the french knots to make throughout and the finishing touch of a felted button at the very top.

I’m determined to go on no matter how many mistakes I make. When I finish, I will post a photo of it.

My moniker isn’t “abundant imperfections” for nothing.

I Won’t Apologize

I will never apologize for what I haven’t done,

Even if it would give your mind ease, to think you are right and justify how you treat me.

Accuse me and blame me without evidence all that you want,

But still, I won’t apologize for what I haven’t done.

Dislike me, or hate me at whatever level of intensity pleases you. it matters not to me,

I won’t apologize for what I haven’t done, just to see you satisfied.

Tell lies about me. Tell lies about my life. Try as you will to hurt me,

Still, I won’t apologize for what I haven’t done.

Do your best to destroy my relationships with others with your tall tales, your tales of victimhood.

But still I won’t apologize to try to save
my love, not even their love for me.

And rest assured I will not use what I know about you to hurt you or to shame you or to justify my means.

I will stand in my defenselessness. I don’t need to prove my innocence, not to you nor to anyone.

I stand here accused and judged by you, ” the blameless saint”, and by the jury. I have stood before you claiming my innocence.

Yet not one word out of my mouth is believed. Why should I speak? My guilt is already determined.

I am not imprisoned by your words of judgment, nor by the sentence you will try to enforce.

My innocence will stand against your hatred. It stands against the venom that spews from your mouth, the darkness on your face, your gestures, the fire of hell and brimstone in your eyes.

Your judgment and hatred has in actuality been your prison for all these years.  Your suffering has been and is self inflicted, while I have walked free.

I will not apologize for what I haven’t done.

From what I can see, you have sentenced yourself to a lifetime of imprisonment. And though I have offered you clemency, you have refused.

Though you did, and still label our old love, “a neurotic attachment”, that is not how I see it. But my words will not convince. I will no longer try for peace.

Though I have forgiven you a thousand times in a thousand ways, I will not ever again stand in harm’s way… And:

I swear to you, and it is a promise to myself, that I will not ever, ever, apologize for what I have not done.

Things he said to me

Some things he said to me left deep footprints in the mud part of my mind.

This is not love. It’s a neurotic attachment

You’re more stupid than my mother

You are stupid, shallow and ridiculous

You’re cold

And why did he say those things?

Was it revenge? A payback for hurting him?

He hated my fat and insulted me in front of friends, family and visitors.

He even ḥit me a few times and pushed me and then wanted me to make love.

I couldn’t, though I loved him and I tried but I drew back,  repulsed, not by him but in defense, I suppose,  I really don’t know.

Probably not Presentable

I’m truly turning into that stereotypical old woman.

I wear the same clothes every day for at least a week, unless they’re too dirty to be seen in public. At home dirty clothes are all right with me.

I don’t change my underwear every day unless they smell.

I only change my sheets every couple of weeks, sometimes, only once a month.

I don’t wash my face every day. I don’t like to shower except after I’ve been in the pool for aquafit classes, and so I don’t.

I’d rather eat a hamburger out every day than cook. I rarely eat salad. I want cookies and/or candy every day.

I wish I could get away without brushing my teeth, or ever going to the dentist. The same goes for visiting the doctor.

I don’t really ever want to leave the house. I’m happy with staying home with my knitting; nothing could entice me to travel.

I’d rather concentrate on memories than making plans. Dying doesn’t scare me but living does.

But in spite of that, I went to the “Christmas Revels” last night, and it was wonderful. I put on clean clothes, brushed my hair and my teeth and washed my face. I had aquafit in the morning, so I had a shower.

I was, for a night, what you might call, presentable.