I had a gift certificate for a local yarn shop, and I bought some beautiful Malabrigo lace yarn.
I had a pattern in mind when I bought it, but I decided I would get bored with it, so I started searching for something else.
Oh, my, did I ever find it: Jeanie. This was the elusive Lace That Doesn't Look Old.* Lace that looks intricate and beautiful. Lace that is reversible and has cables. Reversible cables, people. Lace that has dropped stitches. I've never done a pattern with dropped stitches (...well, not purposely dropped stitches, anyway.)
I know that there is a lot of ugly knitwear in the world. Just because it can be knit, does not mean that it should. The plethora of unattractive knitting patterns is one of my primary complaints about this hobby.
But this, my friends, is beautiful.
There's talk in the knitting world, and probably other worlds as well, about process vs. product people.
Process people are those who do something simply for the enjoyment of the motions, for the love of the action itself. Process knitters would knit a project just because it's a clever and interesting knit, even if the product was not something they or anyone they knew would love.
Product people are those who do something always with an eye toward what the finished product will be. Product knitters would consider it a waste of time to knit something that wasn't ultimately going to be loved by its recipient.
I'm about 90% product and 10% process. I'll knit something that's miles and miles of black stockinette stitch (coughStarWarsScarfcough) if i believe the person will love it, but I'd prefer to be working on something with cables or twists or some other bit of cleverness.
It took me two hours and an Internet connection to get the cast-on.** The pattern has three separate charts and thirteen stitch markers that are used for each row. I can only knit this in complete isolation. I've been knitting it after I eat my lunch, and I've found that I can get two rows done after eating before it's time to head back to work. Tuesday, I managed three, and that was pretty damn thrilling.
Now, it's possible that I'll get faster and/or that I'll get comfortable enough with the pattern that I can knit it outside of a closed, locked, silent room. However, it's also possible that I won't.
Two to three rows a day five days a week. I had originally hoped it would be ready to be worn on my birthday... thirteen years from now. However, by my calculations, I will never, ever finish this. People will wrap me in it before they send me into the crematorium, tucking the needle under my arm in a futile attempt to make it look like I'm wearing something finished.
I'll let you know.
*To me, anyway. If you feel differently, please don't tell me.
**I hate provisional cast-ons. Hate them. They make no sense to me whatsoever.