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Cinnamon patrol

Mr and Mrs Lili Wedding

 

One hundred and twelve

That's how many ends I have to sew in on my new niece's blanket.

Wait, hold on, there were a few extra threads there. Make that a round one hundred and twenty.

If anyone ever doubts my love of the babies, they only need to perform the requisit mathematical calcualtions involving my intense hatred of the end-sewing-in (really, hugely intense - I favour yarns like KidSilk Haze for their superb yardage per ball for precisely this reason) and the number of ends that need to be sewn in on my average baby knit. The result is proof that I do, indeed, love me the babies.

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In related matters, I am so supremely dissatisfied with virtually everything I've knit for myself, including two projects currently still on my needles, that I plan to frog it all (unravel it, for you non-knitters). With two nieces and an almost-niece, plus a lovely husband who us slowly being won by the delights of hand-knit socks made to fit his very feet, I think I'll have plenty to keep me busy.

This means I've become one of those knitters who owns almost nothing they've knit. Well, almost nothing I'd wear in public, anyway. A scarf, some fingerless gloves, a hat that David's talked me into wearing... I do have a few cardigans, but they're all huge on me now, and rather selfishly, I'd rather keep my current shape.

Who knows, I might get really frog-happy and unravel all them too...

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