But first, a response.
Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all your very sweet, very generous comments about my cropped cardigan (both here and over on the KH board). I appreciate the suggestions about how I might add some length, as well as the affirmations about the current length. For now I’ll probably leave it as is since I have so many other projects on my plate. To address some specific comments:
Amber, you made my day writing that my waist looks tiny! Of course, I did intentionally pose both my body and my camera in a very particular way in order to minimize the look of my waist as much as possible! 😉
Julie, I am 5’5.5″. I measured the sweater again, from shoulder to waist – 18 inches. I measured myself from shoulder to waist – 18 inches. So I guess it’s hitting in the right place. But I guess since I usually wear lower-waisted jeans and pants I am used to having my tops come down further than waist-length. I can’t wait to see yours!
Becka, if I do end up adding length, I’m probably going to go exactly with what you mentioned – a garter stitch edge the same width as the button band, so about 6 rows. I think that would look cute, even though one of the things I first loved about this cardigan in the pattern pictures was how the bottom front edges looked b/c of the lace pattern.
goodkarma, I considered the grafting idea as well, which I think would look really nice (and would preserve the look I love for the bottom front edges). I’m not sure I have enough yarn, though (though I’m not really a good judge of that). My current thinking is to do as you suggest – try to “rock an outfit out of it.”
I’ll keep y’all posted on what I end up doing.
On to my terrible, beautiful, and completely non-knitting related evening.
Tonight My Old Man and I had very special plans. The Indigo Girls are in town. I have a lot of favorite singers and bands, but if I had to only pick one, the Indigo Girls would be it. My first official date with My Old Man was to an IG concert in 1999. And I haven’t seen them since. Which is kind of weird, because up to that point, I had seen them 7 times in 7 years. Anyway, we read they were coming to town and we knew we had to make it a date.
The babysitter arrived in enough time for us to have a leisurely dinner first. Just before leaving, I noticed a bit of clutter in the living room that I decided to quickly move to my study. I grabbed the stuff, swung the door open, threw the stuff on the floor, and began to hastily pull the door shut. Unbeknownst to me, Little Buddha had followed me. And as I turned around, I sort of stepped on him. In my stumbling and concern over whether I’d hurt him, I pulled the door completely shut behind me. And just then, I realized his finger was in it.
It was horrifying. I had pulled it completely shut. I gasped and whirled around to open the door. Only it has one of those stupid plastic childproof things on the knob. And in my panic, I could not get it open. It was just the most awful thing, trying frantically to get the door open while my little boy’s finger was smashed in it. I finally clawed the plastic knob completely off the doorknob and got the door open.
His finger looked totally flattened and horrible. It was not just the tip, but all the way down to the middle knuckle (though not including the knuckle itself). It was gruesome. He was crying, and I think I was crying. The sweet little guy asked, “Are you okay, Mommy?” through tears. I said, “Yes, baby, are you okay?” And he said, “No,” in the most pitiful little voice. It just tore my heart.
We stayed for awhile till things calmed down. My Old Man was pretty sure he was fine. We left for dinner. Got to the parking lot (5 minutes away), and then came right back home. I couldn’t stand it. I had to see if he was okay (though when I called the babysitter she said everything was fine). I thought I would take him to the Urgent Care Center and miss the concert. I got home, he seemed fine, I looked up some things on the internet, and nothing seemed to indicate he needed immediate medical attention. So we left again, though now not in time to have dinner.
He seems fine now. The babysitter said he used his hand and fingers well at dinner, seemed in a good mood, didn’t complain about his finger hurting, or anything. Still, the whole thing made me so sick and I still get upset when I think about it. I mean, haven’t you heard of people actually losing a finger because they got it smashed in something? That’s what I kept thinking. That, and reliving the panic of knowing his finger was smashed in the door and not being able to get it open. That episode lasted maybe 45 seconds, but it seemed like such a long, slow time.
In the end, though, the evening turned beautiful. We got to the concert on time and it was spectacular. Sinking into their music is such a familiar comfort to me. Their voices feel like home. Those tight awesome harmonies (I once heard Nanci Griffith say they had the sweetest, tightest harmonies since the Everly Brothers), the genius guitar work, the poetry of the lyrics. It just feels like home. A happy, beautiful, inspiring, comforting home. *sigh*