Having contact and knowledge of the comings/goings/doings and swatchings of other knitwear designers can lay on a layer of "daunt" sometimes. You know what I mean? What I mean to say is, I read what they're doing (and it seems like they're always working, always getting stuff done, editing or turning things in or whatnot) and I look at myself in the mirror. Pajamas still on at 2 p.m., bifocals, dirty hair, and I've only managed an inch of that cardigan I'm doing for a DVD I'm taping for Interweave in August.
To boot, the prior two days were spent not on looking at myself in the mirror and comparing my progress against the busy bees; instead, I was ignoring my situation and making "lanyards." Yes, "lanyards." I don't even know what their true name is or what they're used for, but Girlfriend brought home that familiar Summer Camp Gimp/Plastic Product and next thing I knew I ran out and spent twenty bucks on a zillion yards of the stuff and weaved and weaved and weaved until my eyes crossed. We are talking two afternoon's worth of weaving.
Did you know they come in more colors than can be named in an hour? Did you know that they come flat, tubular, stretchy, two-toned, tye-dyed, and sparkly? Did you know that it's cheap stuff? That you can buy yards and yards for under three bucks? Did you know that people have YouTube videos just showing off their thingys? (I watched and watched but for the life of me I still don't know what they're used for. Maybe I'm a process lanyard maker like I'm a process knitter...hmmm. Works for me!)
Worse and worser, I started a bunch of those things I don't know what they are actually used for and sent them with Girlfriend to camp so she could pass them out to her friends.
I'm quickly becoming a nightmare mom, the kind that relives her past through her child. Someone tell me that it is not okay to sit and weave what-ever-they're-called's all day while my knitting/real work sits on the floor in the corner.
Wait: Come to think of it, I never went to summer camp. Never. Not once in my whole life.
Well then. I wonder what my problem is. Summer camp envy?