Yeah, I've made quilts and afghans before. A whole load of them. I crocheted a baby blanket for a friend but I think I didn't really know how to add new yarn or sew in ends in those days. All I recall is going to visit the baby and see that the afghan was falling apart. I was embarrassed but the mom, I think, felt worse. She blamed herself and tried to hide the flaws from me and promised to put it back together.

I also made this huge crocheted Christmas afghan for my step mom. It must weigh 20 pounds. It's your classic Red Heart and the trees are made with these huge bobbles. She still brings it out every Christmas after probably 25 years. You gotta hand it to the people at Red Heart. That stuff can't be destroyed. Better, I think I got the weaving-in-the-ends thing correct on that one because, from the looks of it, it's still a piece of iron--a solid piece of iron.

And then there was another crocheted blanket I made for another new baby. It was just single crochet in a nice blue. After I made the blanket, I went in and cross-stitched a Noah's ark theme on top of the fabric. It was sooooo cute. One thing I remember about it, though, is that I received a curious thank you note. It basically said: "thanks for making this but you shouldn't have. It is too warm out here for such an item. I'll put it in storage."

Such is the way of these things. We can't blame ourselves. Well, maybe I should blame myself for the one that fell apart, but this stuff happens. That Christmas one--the one that'll outlive us all--is an obvious success. All the others? Probably so. The fact that at one point they even got completed is, in of itself, a triumph. Have you noticed how many hand crafters never finish their projects? 

They especially don't finish the big ones.

But this one. This one. This one makes me so happy. 

It just started with a square I knit out of boredom.

And each day, without a plan, I made another square. Different sock yarn (all of it is sock yarn), same square. Some squares are with self-striping yarn, others are solid, semi-solid or self-patterning.

By the time that stack started to topple, I decided to count the squares. I didn't really want to stop and count because I thought it might stop me from enjoying the ride, but I knew that at some point, I'd have to know when it was time to begin thinking about how I'd put it all together. And with what color yarn. 

My goal was to buy no new yarn for this and flying by the seat of my pants as it were, I knew I'd have to have enough of one color to connect all the squares.

Now that the blanket lives in strip form, I will start to connect the strips. Part of me doesn't want to finish it.

I don't know why. It's just that, when you spend so much time working on something that has given you so much joy, you don't want it to be over. Kind of like that car your dad worked on every weekend in the garage for years. The one that he dreamt about, befriended, reupholstered, and searched only for original parts when fixing it up and then finally having to give up working on it simply because it was "time."

It's like a tiny little death, you know?