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I have to admit I’m pretty darned proud of myself.  First of all, I sucked up my troubles and traveled to Taos for the Wool Festival and, as a reward, had an entertaining and educational weekend, made all the more special by a quick, many-miles-driven visit from my Hunky Husband.  Granted, I have been paying the price for the extra exertion since the day I returned in the form of Attack of the Dumb Disease but that’s okay.  It was worth it.

 

Pint Modeling the Tasha DressSecond of all, I designed, knit, crocheted, embroidered, and FINISHED The Tasha Dress.  It is the first knitted piece I have ever designed from scratch.  Usually, I rework a published pattern by changing the sleeves or the neckline or the length; well, you’ve got the idea.  I did not do this.  Granted, I made a jillion mistakes which led me to bite the bullet, rip the whole 3/4ths-of-the-way-done dress down to the hem the Saturday we were in Taos, and go down another design path BUT I did it.

 

Behold the Tasha dress, albeit ill-fitting for the I-so-did-not-volunteer-for-wearing-a-girl’s-dress Pint.  It should fit its wearer just fine, just below the knees.  The garter stitch hem allows it to be turned up for now and tacked down and then undone as the little one grows.

 Tasha flower

And the initial design problem?  The all-important flowers.  I think I told you before I planned on an intarsia/fair isle mix knitted into the base of the dress.  Apparently, I am not good enough to do this yet.  The knitted decreases in order to shape the A-line distorted the flowers and, besides, they did not have that innocent child quality needed for this dress.  Instead I re-knitted the deep orange base by itself and worked the flowers separately.  Then I embroidered them in place with a chain stitch and added French knots in the center.  I like them.  I sure hope the wearer does.

 

Now that Tasha is complete, I can get back to the myriad of family projects slated for completion/construction and maybe, just maybe I can talk my body into forgiving me for pushing it to take a trip and work long hours.  I’m beginning to tire of resembling a tobacco-loving, fifth-a-day drinking baseball player with a bad skin problem.  (I’m swollen, lumpy, and bumpy.  God love my husband for even looking at me.)

 

A sense of completion is such a strange and rare thing for me.  I think I like it but I have to admit I’m already missing my creation.  Hopefully, she’ll like her new home in Texas and make an already special toddler feel that much more so.

    

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