(The process of blanket blocking. Not so tricky, unless you’re a perfectionist and want all the lines to be ruler-straight. )

So, exactly 2 months after I began, I finished Mason’s baby blanket. Fortunately, he’s only one month old now. Well, 5 weeks….

Nevertheless, after I laid it out it had the classic problem of being all poochy in the center where I had knitted it too loosely or where the world of physics applied some unknown rule. It required blocking, which meant I needed to first of all wash it by hand or in the “delicate hand washables” cycle of the machine. I chose the easy way out, but stood there lamenting as the machine brutalized the blanket in the most whiplash-like spin cycle I’ve ever seen. My machine does not have a way to open it once it is going. You just have to let the cycle finish. To entertain myself I imagined the two hours of weaving the ends in I’d spent becoming moot as the ends unraveled and I’d open the washer door to a pile of knotted yarn.

It came out alright. I’m such a fatalist. So, I wrapped it in a towel and sucked out the extra liquid. Oddly, this is something my aunt Connie, world traveler (and fellow knitter) just mentioned to me offhand the other day in an unrelated conversation where we were discussing traveling lightly. When she was 19 or so hoofing it around Europe with one pair of pants and one skirt, a nice Italian (?) lady showed her how to wick excess moisture of off newly washed items by wringing them in a towel. I’m not sure how that could come up in conversation but it did. I think we were talking about our upcoming train trip and how I’d need to travel lightly. Something that rarely works for a girl who grew up with the motto ‘Be Prepared’ imprinted in her mind. Except last February when I forgot to put my suitcase in the car and spent 2 weeks in the south with just my purse and the two outfits I ended up buying to get me by. I wasn’t exactly prepared then but I traveled light and marveled at how easy it was, swearing to myself I’d remember that on the next trip. Did not work. I will consult here next time.

Then I laid the blanket out and observed how the logs of the log cabin pattern seemed warped, bloated, twisted, buckled. All it took was some creative stretching to get them lined up and a few hours to dry. We went off en masse to see Journey to the Center of the Earth. Halfway there Anoif decided maybe we’d left the bedroom door open thus giving Kiko that cat full access to the wet wool/cotton baby blanket. Frantic call to the neighbor confirmed the cat had in fact zeroed in on the blanket and was just beginning a cooling afternoon nap when she was intercepted. Generally Kiko is okay, above spite. But you may recall the time a couple of years ago when she decided it would be hilarious to pee on my journal, purse and datebook all in one day? No? Well, maybe I didn’t blog about that one. But the blanket was rescued and dried untwisted and fine and since this is my first big project ever (if a baby’s length and breadth could be considered big) I am now facing this nameless feeling. Something close to remorse and hands-free fidgetiness. Is the only cure to begin a new project? Can I take a few days off or will the feeling pursue me until I cave in and start the socks?