BitterSweet

I’m sure that years from now, this will be one of those projects you look back on and wonder, “What the HELL was thinking when I made this?!” I even debated posting it here for fear of being reported to the brutally honest but hilarious bloggers at What Not to Crochet.

First of, no, I did not write this pattern so I am not solely at fault for this abomination. I’m sure the writers had the best intentions in mind as well, and perhaps it wouldn’t have morphed into the embarrassment that it became had a chose a more agreeable color scheme. While I wish it were that easy, in a way, it really wasn’t a choice. It was to be a gift for my aunt who recently painted her new kitchen “pumpkin orange.” So maybe she should be the one to blame here. I did think that the shade of orange yarn was a bit off even without having seen its intended home, my mother assures me that it will go perfectly. Or maybe not perfectly, something to that effect. At the very least not offensively?

Didn’t get a good look of them there? Yeah, that’s kind of the point. Oh, and you thought they were supposed to be pot holders based on the name of the pattern and all? Me too, until I got half way though the beginning and realized the meaning of “accent” pot holders. Defined more accurately as “useless” pot holders. Considerate niece am I, who gives her loving aunt a pair of pot holders filled with holes, just waiting for someone fool enough to try and pick up something actually hot with them. Who’d have imagined that’s what those were for!

Feeling justly like a moron, I still refused to back down, now that all this yarn had been paid for and they were already well on their to becoming finished… Pot holders? No, I’m sorry, that won’t work unless I’m trying to encourage third degree burn and simultaneously discourage home cooking.

And that is how they magically became trivets. Trivets have the easy life anyways; They don’t need to be very structurally sound, only need to prevent counters and other inanimate objects from getting overheated, and best of all (Especially for this pair) they are always the landing zones for pots, allowing much less face time in public.

Okay, just because I know you’re all so morbidly curious to see these like a crowd drawn to a car crash, here’s a clearer picture (But don’t say I didn’t warn you.)

This is one gift I’ll be more than happy to send off and never see again. I fully expect to find them in the attic some day, many years from now, and wonder what on earth posessed me to create such a thing.

Well, word must have gotten out that I’ve been harboring a mouse in my home, because the other day this cat just showed up at my door, harboring a hungry look in its eyes. I let him in, not wanting the poor creature to starve, but it immediately stalking around, searching for its prey.

Sensing the immediate danger that my helpless blue friend might be in, I quickly sequestered him to his own room, and returned to offer my new resident a big bowl of soymilk. I knew that this wouldn’t satisfy his killer instinct, but I hoped that it would atleast temporarily quell the primal urge.

I would never kick either out, but friends do not eat friends, so I can not allow this cat to get a taste of my defenseless mouse. Maybe in time I can introduce each other in a more peaceful manner, but for the time being I think my best choice is to keep them separated until my new kitty learns it doesn’t need to kill for his food. I just hope it all works out…!

Still, he spends both his days and night very alert, sensing that his desired meal is near…

I don’t think they will be ready to meet each other very soon.

Normally, if any sort of insect is spotted buzzing around a room, minding its own business or not, I would be that crazy person shreiking as if my hair were set on fire and flailing my arms like I was drowning. You know the type: The completely irrational phobic who won’t listen to any logically reasoning, such as “It won’t hurt you as long as you don’t bother it,” or, “For god’s sakes, that’s a freaking DRAGONFLY.” Okay, so I’ve gotten over the whole dragonfly bit after having run into a glass door trying to escape one at about age four, but just about every other sort of bug, winged or not? Count me out.

Of my top two most terrifying insects, I would have to say that spiders and bees make the cut indefinitely. They’ve both lessened enough over the years so that I can now usually exit a room after finding one with only minimal whimpering noises.

This time, however, there is absolutely nothing to fear, seeing as my own little bee is made of [What else?] yarn.

Not a pattern I would have ordinarilly chosen to pursue, but it was ultimately the request of a friend that prompted me to plunge my hook in. Maybe this good experience with a bee will help me contain my immediate freakouts in the future. I mean really, who would be scared of this fuzzy friend?

…Or maybe, it will just make me more thankful that winter is coming soon to exterminate those nasty, stinging predators.