Tuesday, 13 October 2015

Rainbow ripples

When I was smaller (I'm being very careful here and deliberately not lying to you by saying I *was* a child, past tense because we both know the lay of the land on *that* one!)

Ahem... When I was smaller, I had a wonderful blanket of many colours I called my 'rainbow blanket'. I *adored* that blanket and should ask my mother where it went, actually...

This blanket I absolutely adored and snuggled into quite often in my book-filled, anti-social, daydreaming world of childhood. I could spend hours inside this protective cocoon... safe, secure, snuggled, innocent. Through the messy and sometimes violent divorce of my parents, my rainbow blanket was solace. It didn't walk away, it didn't yell, it didn't scold attention-seeking behaviour, it didn't push a needy child aside to deal with 'bigger problems', it didn't play an innocent child against anyone else in a horrid game of one-upmanship... that blanket was my life raft, in essence, my comfort.

In an effort to more firmly grasp some of the nostalgia for my early years, I hunted high and low for a replacement. Finally, after much deliberation, I discovered a wonderful crochet blanket pattern created by the wonderful Lucy over at Attic24 and the gorgeous colour variation created by KnitKnatKnotUK over on Ravelry.

I spent literally months deciding on which colours to choose for my blanket as, while I definitely wanted a rainbow theme, I didn't want an in-your-face garish rainbow.

The yarn I chose was Stylecraft's Special DK which is acrylic (Reminder: I can't handle animal hair/fur-made fibres) and feels, I am pleased to say, nothing like what people presume acrylic will feel like.

It's soft, smooth and gloriously wonderful in hand.

This is my chosen colourway:

To start the blanket, I chained 297 as recommended by KnitKnatKnotUK and have made some (*very little) progress...

I started with the Violet and have moved to the Royal but seeing them so closely together, I am slightly regretting my choice of colours... At the moment, I am honouring the choices and sticking with my selection in the hopes that it all comes good in the finished product, but only time will tell.

I'm very much hoping that the newest generation of the rainbow blanket lives up to its legacy and becomes a snuggle-inducer for years to come.

(Pictures and progress notes will be forthcoming when they pop into existence!)

How to learn a valuable lesson about the curse of perfectionism

  1. Be a steadfast perfectionist
  2. Glance into the corner of your office where there is a ghastly open void
  3. Grumble at the blatant waste of space in said corner
  4. Design a bespoke shelving unit that fits *exactly* into that awkward corner, taking very accurate measurements and drawing everything neatly on your plans
  5. Research how to finish the unit. In depth. Read forums and products reviews with advice (Paint? Spray or brush? Sticky-back plastic? Decopage?)
  6. Ask someone to "handy" build it for you
  7. Talk them through your complex drawings and ideas, confused, as it appears your notes are suddenly not *actually* very legible
  8. Reiterate that, while you are a perfectionist, you do not require perfection from them
  9. Admire at how that handy person tackles the job with gusto, problem-solving along the way
  10. Don't admit to yourself that there were problems to be solved
  11. Watch them give up ("for now") part way through because the finish you chose for the unit is too damned frustrating and just. won't. work. properly
  12. Let the project sit for a couple of days, all the while glancing into the chasm in your office
  13. Decide to tackle the unit yourself
  14. Realise that the handy person was right. It's a pain in the ass
  15. Tell yourself that it won't be perfect. It's impossible. The materials are repelled from each other like oil and water
  16. Tell yourself it doesn't *have* to be perfect
  17. Clench your teeth while you work and repeat #16 every time the plastic sticks to itself and not the wood and every time the plastic won't stick to the wood and every time it bubbles and every time it buckles and every time you cut a crooked line
  18. Be wrong