Amy's Afghan {take two}

I know that I thought the last afghan I did was going to be Amy's Afghan, and it turned out to be, in a way.  The project veered off course, and became an experiment in various colorways using Lighthouse Mist, a fuzzy mohair, and assorted worsted weight yarns, simultaneously.  I did give it to her, but it was not THE Amy's Afghan that I was striving for.

However, I'm on the right path now, baby!


This is Pagoda in Caron Simply Soft, with LightHouse Mist, the variegated mohair that contributes the pleasing shifts in colorway.  The Pagoda is what gives it the overall teal foundation.  This is about two thirds as long as it's going to be, because I have yet another skein of Caron to go.

The overall length will be a bit over five feet.  Altho, when it's done, Amy may decide to consider it the width.

The original plan was to add two more panels, one on either side.  That would make the blanket much wider than the over length.  However, Amy might decide to turn it so that the panels become layers that make the blanket seven to nine feet long {I've not yet decided} and five foot wide.

When the other yarn comes in, which might be as early as tomorrow or as late as next week sometime, I'll post pix of that and make a decision on the final intended dimensions.

But for now, this panel, at this stage, is about 3x4.

getting back to it

back of afghan

So for a week, I propped myself in the recliner and drank honeyed lemoned teas, eating the occasional bowl of oatmeal.  I hacked and coughed and engaged in other whining activities.  I did NOT knit.  Mostly because I didn't have the brain power to stay on target.

front of afghan

The next week, I ran higher fevers, which induced delirium that make total sense to my addled self at the time.  One of those episodes included me lecturing myself on refraining from knitting because I didn't want to pass on some contagious infectious disease to the recipient of said item.  This still makes sense to me, even in my recovered, non~feverish state.

However, I'm slowly beginning to feel more human and less like a sluggish slumped candidate for the next Mucinex commercial {I'd make an excellent Aunt Bertha, doncha think?}.  These past few evenings, I've been knitting some more rows onto this afghan.  I'm not crazy about it myself, but I think that the recipient will like it and that's the important thing.

Happy Birthday

Dear Jerry,

I love you, you know.  There are times when you probably don't know how much I appreciate you as well.  Like now, for instance.  Even though you were sick yourself for about a week and are still feeling the lingering effects, you still take care of me, in my own whining, gross, pathetic moments of "honey, would you...?"
      *in this case, ... could mean but is not limited to:  bring me a cup of tea; make me a pot of tea; put honey in my tea; cover me with the blanket I just threw on the floor; bring me my inhaler; pick up my inhaler I just knocked on the floor; heat my neck roll; bring me my hot neck roll; bring me a towel to wrap the too hot neck roll in; buy me a bag of lemons; get me another box of tissues; bring me a bag to put my used tissues in; pull off my socks; take my temperature; put on my socks; tuck me in; help me out of bed; take the dog out of bed and close the bedroom door; bring me the lil'st dog so I can cuddle her; hold my hand; bring me the pillow;  no, not that pillow, the other pillow; make me jello; bring me a popsicle; heat me some soup; put the soup away; call the doctor's office; drive me to the clinic; give me a hug; hug me again; wait, i need to cough; ok, now another hug; tell me a story...

Even when I am at my worst, you love me and I appreciate that oh so much.  Because I know how hard it can be to put up with me when I am irritable, sniveling, snotting, whining, impatient, and confusing.  And I appreciate you because I know that you don't have to put up with me, but do it anyway.

I love you so.  I know that we had special plans for tomorrow, your birthday.  I know that you understand that it is not an optimal time for either of us, and I know that sucks for both of us.  Even though you have a whiny wife full of flu right now, it won't always be this way.  And we'll celebrate your birthday when things are looking much better.

In the meantime, do something for you, and not for me, and not for our three lil dogs.  Have a happy birthday in some meaningful way that is special for YOU.  I love you,  Debra

Oh, and would you please shut the drapes?