The Box of Broken Dreams

So anyway, about three months ago, I purchased the Stained Glass Bag pattern and a bunch of gorgeous Noro Kureyon yarn. I was so excited to start it, but I forced myself to wait until I finished some WIP or other. Of course, by the time I finished whatever it was, I was already excited to start something else, and I forgot about the Stained Glass Bag.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. We moved Jack into his "big boy bedroom" (formerly our guestroom) and I started planning to reclaim the small room where we had his crib as my craft room. This, of course, involved me going through my stash to organize things a bit and decide how I'm going to store it in the new space.

My stash is pretty small. I have two groups of yarn: the "good" yarn, which consists mostly of natural fiber (with an inordinate amount of alpaca), and the "craft" yarn, which consists mostly of manmade fibers that are left over from baby blankets and charity knitting, where washable yarn is preferred. I don't go into the craft yarn stash very often unless I need scrap yarn or the kids are doing an art project. The good yarn lives in a large basket and several small crates in my office. I'm pretty proud of myself for keeping it somewhat in control (if you ignore the many skeins of sock yarn I've accumulated in the last four months). Anyway, just as I was starting to feel pretty good about my self control, I realized something disturbing.

I have a coat rack in my office. There are several coats on the rack and a lot of bags. I don't really pay attention to the coat rack these days because it's summer here and there's no need for coats most days. As I was taking yarn out of the crates, I caught a glimpse of my old knitting basket hanging from the rack and pulled it down. It was stuffed with the Noro yarn I bought for the Stained Glass Bag.

Then I looked at the rack more carefully. There were many bags hanging from it (did I ever mention that I own a lot of Vera Bradley tote bags? It's another one of my little addictions). I started pulling them down. One bag had the yarn and a pattern for felted clogs. Another two bags held yarn and the unfinished projects to go with it. A third bag held all of my DPNs and most of my circular needles, because I still haven't gotten around to making needle cases for them (even though I bought the materials months ago). A few other bags were filled with more yarn that I'd forgotten about. It turns out my stash is a little bigger than I thought. I've just been tricking myself by squirreling it away.

It was kind of fun to rediscover the "lost" yarn and projects. It actually turned out to be a boon, because it gave me something to do while I let the problem of the gargantuan sleeve marinate for a bit. Now that the Stained Glass Bag is finished (providing me with another potential Christmas gift off my list), I'm kind of excited to knock out a few of the gift projects on my list before getting back to my regularly scheduled selfish knitting.

In the midst of organizing and rediscovering old projects, I happened to read something on Ravelry that seemed to fit amazingly well. Several knitters were discussing how they store their stash and their unfinished projects. One woman noted that her husband had boxed up all of her unfinished project and ugly finished projects and had labeled it "Box of Broken Dreams." Apparently, I have bags of broken dreams, or, as another knitting friend appropriately phrased it, an Island of Misfit Projects.

All of which leads me to present you with the following gallery of misfit projects and broken dreams:

The Calamitous Crocheted Sweater:



An alternative name for this finished object could be "I can't be bothered with sticking to one dye lot or checking gauge." I keep this project posted on Ravelry to remind myself what happens when you are in too much of a hurry to start something. The worst part about this project is that one of the pattern editors on Ravelry actually asked if they could use my picture for the online pattern. I gave permission, but noted that it was so ugly it would probably drive potential crocheters away. I never heard back again!

The Miniature Mitten, Part II:



Attempt No. 1



Attempt No. 2

See? Despite frogging and knitting with larger needles, it's still too small. Also, I've ripped this version back once because I forgot to make a thumb hole. I'm well aware that I will eventually have to frog it and start again. Perhaps this time I will be motivated to check my gauge.

And, last but not least, I bring you THE GARGANTUAN SLEEVE:



Yeah, I never got around to taking a picture of the horror that was the gargantuan sleeve, but you can kind of see it in this one. Tonight, I finally bit the bullet and cut off the end of the sleeve to reknit it. It was freakishly long. Trust me.