Flexible Notion Of Acceptable

Everyone will be pleased to hear that not all of that time spent standing with teenagers in a hallway while they complained about standing in the hallway was in vain. They managed to walk into the 8th grade promotion ceremony in a manner relatively close to what they'd been given as choreography. They stood when they were supposed to and didn't do much that might embarrass them later in life when the pictures get dragged out.

No one remembered to exit the gym in the manner rehearsed, however. It was sort of a free-for-all at that point. Frankly, no one cared anymore by then. It was eight million degrees in there and we all just wanted out. Having been in that building since 6:50 a.m. I suppose I wanted it more than anyone. I was, shall we say, "wilted." In body and in spirit. I arrived home at 8:00 (ish) and have never been so glad to see my own messy home.

This experience has helped me to be a bit more relaxed when it comes to things that may or may not be sleeves. If I were knitting a sleeve, I might have gotten all crazy when it didn't want to line up in the correct place on the part that might be a sweater. I might have even ripped it right off the needle in order to make it bend to my will and then dropped sixty gazillion stitches, all of which had to be recaptured and replaced. Some might not have been wrangled as well as they should have been.

Good thing I'm so open-minded about these things now that I've known true misery. Otherwise, I shudder to think what may have happened. I might have done some questionable things in terms of not-sleeve repair and maybe decided that the occasional hole in the knitting isn't such a bad thing. I may have imbued the knitwear with the foulest of emotions and probably cursed it even further than any not-sweater I've ever knit has been cursed. (and they all are...we know this) There may have been throwing of partially finished garments, something that is simply unbecoming in such a Zen-like being as myself.

I may have to stand with one shoulder to the wall every time I wear this not-sweater for the rest of my life in order that I might hide the effects of my temper tantrum. That is no way to live. Gosh, I'm so glad that I'm not that person...

Not a sweater. And most certainly not a messed-up sweater. I'm too enlightened for that.

Mama said some baaaaaad words. My brother and I will be in therapy for the next six months if you need us.

It's acrylic. Whatever. My goal at this point is to just finish the thing and be done with it. I could rip back and fix the mistakes, but that simply feels like too much effort. However, the effort put in thus far is what is keeping me from just tossing this accursed object and moving on to something else. Things That Are Not Sweaters are always cursed objects for me and I've learned to expect the occasional bump in the road. I'm also usually surprised to find that the mistakes aren't necessarily as glaring later on as I think them to be in the moment. The world has never once come to a screeching halt over the misknitting of a sleeve. Or that which is not a sleeve...

If nothing else, I know this will be finished during the calm, relaxing days of summer vacation. With the 8th graders well and truly promoted, I can no longer say that I teach 8th grade. Now, I only teach 7th grade and for a mere half day more at that.

Then I will be a full time knitter of lumpy not-sleeves. That will be nice. I guess maybe I'm a little more Zen about these things than I thought...

SA