The Seven Stages Of Guilt

A long time ago, I did a silly thing. I agreed to participate in some fanciful giveaway spree, wherein someone would send me wonderful, handmade goodies if I agreed to send three other people wonderful, handmade goodies. And because I have like, all of five people who read this blog, and four of them live in New Zealand, and probably know each other in real life, there ended up being this bizarre sort of international giftie-swap thing happen. It was all strange and made my head hurt lots on account of the time-zone differences. (Like, I’m sending this today, but will they receive it… yesterday??). But I did receive my very first-ever peanut slab, which I devoured in less than a minute day, and then I got this pretty little beaded bookmark, and later came a gorgeous apron that I truly love and wear just about every single day. And while I did keep true to my word and sent out a knitted dishcloth to the maker of the awesome apron, the procurer of the peanut slabs (and builder of beautiful beaded bookmarks) is still waiting for her little prezzy. I’m feeling very guilty about that.

There are at least seven aspects of guilt swirling about this whole sordid affair.


I’m so sorry… things have just been crazy-busy here. I feel terrible. I know you’ve been waiting so patiently, and I keep meaning to get things together on my end, and I apologize. You understand.


I do have a full year to finish this project and get it sent out. We’re less than a couple months gone by now. Be patient! I’ll get to it just as soon as I can.


First there was my mom’s dishcloth, which I had to finish in time for Mother’s Day (and I was late on those, too, so you’re in good company!). Then there was a baby born at an inconvenient time, so I had to get crocheting on a blanket for her. Meanwhile, S4 needed a gift for her ballet teacher, and so I had to make her a potholder or something, and I’m still not done with the baby blanket, but you’re next on the list…


What giveaway?

Redirect The Blame-ness

If you weren’t so smart, and funny, and clever, and always writing hilarious posts that make me laugh from halfway around the world, well, then, I wouldn’t be so hard-pressed to come up with just the right, perfect, most-excellent gift for you.


I’m almost done- just a few more rows, and then I’ll be ready to send it out.


I cast on for a nice dishcloth for you, but then I lost one of the needles in the grocery store and couldn’t work on it for at least two weeks. Then a friend loaned me a needle, but I didn’t like it as it was flexy and too different from the other needle, so I couldn’t work on it still. But then, I saw where the local craft store was having a sale on needles, so I went, and I got a new set of size 6s, and I worked on the dishcloth, and even finished it, and it looked really lovely. But then my aunt came to visit, and I wanted to give her a gift, so I gave her another dishcloth that I knitted for her especially. But she was staying with my gramma, and I felt it would be awfully tacky to give my aunt a gift and not my gramma, so I gave my gramma your dishcloth. And then I was out of yarn**, and therefore couldn’t make another dishcloth for you, so I put it off a little longer. A week later, I went to a knitting event and got two skeins of a really neat red novelty yarn. It would never do for dishcloths, but then, I realized that it was now winter in New Zealand, and maybe you would like a scarf better than a dishcloth, anyway. So I sat down and cast on for a pretty scarf. But I left the knitting downstairs, and the girls decided the big size 11 needles looked like fun to play with and they slid the scarf off the needles so they could each have magic wands, and the knitting got all pulled apart, so I had to start over. But when I sat down to start over, I read where you had just bought yourself a lovely, sultry, gorgeous red scarf, and I could never compete with that, anyway, so now I’m back with three size six needles and no dishcloth yarn and two skeins of fuzzy red novelty yarn with no pattern and nothing made for Sarah Bean.

Unfortunately, the reality is that I’m just Lame.

But I haven’t forgotten!

And I do still have approximately two hundred and ninety four days left….

**okay, we all know that this part can never, ever, ever be true. I probably have enough yarn to knit myself i-cord to the moon, and maybe even back….


8 thoughts on “The Seven Stages Of Guilt

  1. *Snerk!* Out of yarn! LOLOLOLOL! Out of yarn that you want to play with, sure, that I would believe. That I would sympathize with, too, being in a similar place.

    I know where you can fix that out-of-yarn-blues…..

    Oh, and I keep forgetting to mention that the chi-chi store where I learned to knit now offers SPINNING classes. With a teacher-to-student ratio of 3:1. In case you wanted to spend some more money.

  2. Want to know something?

    I haven’t sent one single one of my three promised gifts for that giveaway.

    You’ve sent one of three, so you’re doing better than I am.

    (The peanut slabs and bookmark I sent you were for guessing what the porridge spread over the roof of my car was, or something.)

    So I’ll join you in the lame queue πŸ˜‰

  3. Ok so I just re-read this and I’m not sure how i managed last night to not realise that this whole entire post was alll to me. How special do I feel right now!!? Must have been the night with sick kids and no sleep and the day with cabin fever that blurred my comprehension for a bit there πŸ˜‰

    For the record, I’m not feeling the slightest bit impatient… wouldn’t really have any right to when I fully intend on sending all of mine on the 364th day, now would I lol.

    Sure is brrrr-winter-brrrr.
    Sure do love fluffy red novelty wool.
    Sure do know about 2 small people and unravelled knitting.
    Sure am comfortable with the concept of ‘the too hard basket’. πŸ˜‰


  4. lol I’m feeling so much better now. And while I know that the peanut slabs were for some other unrelated reason, it still stands that you have sent me something and I have not sent anything back. And it makes me itchy. Figuratively, of course.

    Therefore, I am going to figure something to do with this fuzzy fluffy fabulouso (did I mention frou-frou?) fiber (hahah!!! oh, how I love me some alliteration) and get to work on a prezzie for you. Scarfish, no doubt. But it will be red, and I understand that Sarah Bean likes red, so it’s all going to be very, very good.

    Something like that. ~mm

  5. …and that would be “scarfish” as in “pretty and warm thing to wrap around one’s neck”, and not “a fish that lost a fight with a bigger fish once upon a time”.

    Or maybe I should have written “Scarf-ish”. That would probably make more sense.

    I’m so happy that Sarah understood right from the get-go, in any case. We must be on harmonious wavelengths or something.

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