"Feed me, Seymour!"

The Brown Blanket is...not...dead. There was no unravelling. There was no frogging. There was no re-purposing the yarn to make a birthday sweater for Dan (let's face it, that project never really got off the ground...). Why? Because its real name is Audrey II, like the plant from "The Little Shop of Horrors" that demands to be fed and grows out of control. This is really scary, because doesn't the plant end up eating Seymour? Pray for me.

Here's what happened: Last night I decided (light bulb!) to SELL all of the yarn from the brown blanket. "Gee what a great idea, Pollyanna! I'll sell it!" So I wouldn't have to feel so bad about buying $100 worth of yarn in the first place (in multiple purchases so it never seemed so bad...) that - four years later - it turns out I would never actually want to use. I went upstairs to gather up the balls of yarn (to which there was no emotional attachment whatsoever) and assess their worth.

Once that task was complete, I went to the box on the floor of my closet that was holding Audrey II (let's just admit it here, that IS her name now) and took her out to see how many balls I had already used and assess whether it should be frogged or sold as is.

Um, Pandora? Can you please come over to my house and close your box? Because your evil-plant -blanket thingey is now laying on my bed for me to admire all of the (albeit basic) knitting that I actually did accomplish before I put it away all of those years ago, thus making it impossible to unravel, part with, put back in the box, do anything other than grab another skein of yarn and...start...knitting...again...

"FEED ME, SEYMOUR!"

I'm so toast with this blanket. It's heavy, it's boring, there are something like 250-300 stitches in each row, it's the size of a full-size bed, it's not even great yarn (lambswool and *wince*acrylic*wince* for "easy washing") and I detest working on such large needles, let alone metal ones.
Yet I will keep working on it. Learning to destroy a project that isn't going anywhere is a great tool for a Knitter, I'll admit that. It's liberating, to say the least. But come on...would you, Knitter with a capital K such as yourself, be able to tear apart THIS MUCH YARN? I didn't think so.

I have no deadline for completion and I have promised myself I would never, ever buy more yarn for this beast.* But I do believe that here and now, I am vowing to complete it, to feed Audrey II who has suffered in a dark closet with so little nourishment for so many years, to finally give Dan his monster blanket that was started back when we were "just dating." He's excited about it, since he's always loved the thing. I guess in retrospect, it was a great way to hook the guy, huh?

(Just look at the way she's stretching out on the bed today, taking in all of the possibilities of her new take on life, ways to finally destroy me, to get back at me for locking her away...I'm doomed.)

Wish me luck that I don't lose a limb feeding this thing. At least my hair is too short to knit into it like the scarf-knitter from "The Last Knit."
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One last fun thing, here is the Christmas Yarn Ball that I put together for my swap buddy from the Swap Bot Swap of the same name. You can't see all of the goodies inside, but it's just filled to the brim with delightful Christmas treasures just waiting to fall into the lap of its recipient as she knits up a cute hat - or unwinds it impatiently upon opening the mail, as I know I would, to find the good stuff!
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*No Audrey II, you cannot have any more yarn once I feed you what I already have. The dye lot wouldn't be available and I refuse to buy more anyway. What are you doing? Get away from me! Audrey II, I thought we meant so much to each other! Why are you *gasp!* smothering me? I...can't...breathe... there's...a...huge...brown...blanket...soffocating...me... oh...the...agony...