Blankets are boring.
They are also the best way to use up stash yarn. With a knitting machine, they can also come together very fast, except for the tedious first round of crochet border into the edges of the knitting. I hate doing that, too.
When the local Ben Franklin Crafts store went out of business, I bought a whole bunch of their sale yarn. Too much. Way too much. This is in addition to yarn I'd accumulated over a decade and a half of buying yarn. I think there was another retailer's Going Out of Business sale in there, too--another time when I bought way too much yarn with no plan for it. And every time I visit Michaels (Yeah, I thought there was an apostrophe, too. Their website says otherwise.) or Jo-Ann Fabrics or the local yarn store, just to see what's new, I walk out of there with yarn.
Don't get me wrong: I love yarn.
I love the different kinds and colors and sizes and textures. I love the potential that yarn represents. But that potential also gets me down. Yarn wants to be used. Yarn wants to become things, not sit around in dusty boxes being yarn. It wants to be a sweater or a hat or, yes, a blanket. And as it sits there wanting to be something, it's also on my to-do list, which already torments me with its unassailable length.
So, after I finish the SO's matching couch blankets, I resolve to use up as much stash yarn as I can by making blankets. Some I'll keep, some will be future presents, some I'll give to Project Linus. But they'll all be a thing with a purpose, even if they're in storage. How is that better than yarn in storage? The work is done and they're ready to be used or gifted. And they're off my to-do list.
I dub this new initiative Stash Zero. Join me, if you must.
They are also the best way to use up stash yarn. With a knitting machine, they can also come together very fast, except for the tedious first round of crochet border into the edges of the knitting. I hate doing that, too.
When the local Ben Franklin Crafts store went out of business, I bought a whole bunch of their sale yarn. Too much. Way too much. This is in addition to yarn I'd accumulated over a decade and a half of buying yarn. I think there was another retailer's Going Out of Business sale in there, too--another time when I bought way too much yarn with no plan for it. And every time I visit Michaels (Yeah, I thought there was an apostrophe, too. Their website says otherwise.) or Jo-Ann Fabrics or the local yarn store, just to see what's new, I walk out of there with yarn.
Don't get me wrong: I love yarn.
I love the different kinds and colors and sizes and textures. I love the potential that yarn represents. But that potential also gets me down. Yarn wants to be used. Yarn wants to become things, not sit around in dusty boxes being yarn. It wants to be a sweater or a hat or, yes, a blanket. And as it sits there wanting to be something, it's also on my to-do list, which already torments me with its unassailable length.
So, after I finish the SO's matching couch blankets, I resolve to use up as much stash yarn as I can by making blankets. Some I'll keep, some will be future presents, some I'll give to Project Linus. But they'll all be a thing with a purpose, even if they're in storage. How is that better than yarn in storage? The work is done and they're ready to be used or gifted. And they're off my to-do list.
I dub this new initiative Stash Zero. Join me, if you must.
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