Bad mojo

The reason I am not making a pixie hat for my cousin's baby is that I am planning on sending this jacket, which you may have noticed me working on for some time now. Everything is finally done except for sewing on the button and the zipper for which I need orange thread that I do not currently own. So even though I had planned to finish this up before the little boy was born, I failed. He was born Saturday and is, as far as I know, happy and healthy and too small for this jacket anyway. So I have a little time. Those suckers pack on the pounds quickly though, so not too much time.

Although I am pleased with the (almost) finished product, I feel a little guilty giving this thing to a baby. At the risk of sounding like a total New Age hippie-dip, I have knitted a lot of bad energy into this sweater. (This is where you have to ignore my obnoxious earlier post about knitting love into every stitch. My hyperbole got the better of me, I guess.) I am tempted to finish it and then burn it in the yard. I hated every minute of knitting with that yarn. I had to knit on needles 3 sizes too small and still had to do math to get the pieces to the right size because my gauge was so far off. And I have spoiled myself lately with cushy, elastic wool yarn, so knitting with some unforgiving cotton was misery. It made my hands hurt. The finished fabric looks and feels nice, but the process was unpleasant.

Even so, I think it makes a handsome baby jacket, and the pattern itself was fine. I would just ever ever never never use that goddamn yarn again. Never. Ever. Not ever.