Sometimes in life, we get really lucky.
When that happens, we know how graced we are to have one true-blue, drop-everything-to-help-you friend.
And so it is with KnittingKittens. I’ve written about that before. But this week, she saved my bacon when I was about as low as I could go.
It all started with the issue of Christmas stockings. Darling Bebe had to have an heirloom in time for her second Christmas. I had pieced together a group of motifs and a general shape I liked through a series of patterns from Christmas Stockings by Interweave.
Of course, nothing can be easy. Parts of the pattern had to be knitted flat, while others were in the round in fair isle. (DB’s name is knitted into the front side below the cuff, between the two rows of white snowflakes.) Last year, I managed to get the knitting done and the seams just zipped in right when it needed to be filled. It seemed appropriate to actually finish tying in ends and block it before its second Christmas go-round.
That was when disaster struck.
The Lamb’s Pride red bled all over, turning all of the bright white into rose.
I. was. speechless.
Could not even cry. It was inconceivable.
KnittingKittens picked right up. “Are you okay?”
“I have some dye stop stuff here. Let me run it over. Unless you want to come over here.”
Yes, here was KnittingKittens, the night before 40 relatives descended on her for a raucous brunch, inviting me over to handle my personal tragedy.
On arrival, she administered copious amounts of coffee (I seem to be subsisting on that lately) and parked me in front of about 10 dozen (incredible) homemade cookies. We administered the Carbona Color Run Remover and hoped. And knitted. All the while, the clock was ticking toward her big social event.
And there she was with me.
On the first pass, it helped. Optimistic that the stocking would survive, we poured in the rest of the packet and used the hottest water we could get from the faucet. Yes, Virginia, that’s white. Perhaps not as bright as it was, but white nonetheless. (Interestingly, the bath water was goldenrod yellow. Let your imagination run wild for what it looked like.)
I stopped hyperventilating.
She sent me home with cookies. And peanut-butter bars.
And the feeling that I just might make it through the next couple of days.
Yes, we should all be so lucky as to have one friend like that.
*Note: Photos here are somewhat overexposed. Don’t know why. The red did not fade much, and there was no discernible damage, smell or otherwise unpleasant consequence of using the Carbona.