So much for being the perfect Yarnista.
So much for being the perfect employer.
So much for being the perfect mother, daughter, wife, friend, human being.
I give up.
Who wants to give up with me?
Because it can never be perfect. Your beautiful daughter can look like this ten minutes before trick or treating:
Serene. Perfect.
And moments later, be upset and practically in tears because someone stepped on and ripped the tulle skirt that you sewed by hand after visiting two stores and taking time out of the middle of your work day to find the right elastic thread.
And then moments later, rip off the veil and hand her bouquet over to someone else because she wants to run faster than her get up will allow while snagging candy from the neighbors.
So much for the serene, perfect bride. (And let's not forget the giant horsedog that almost ruined this outfit ten times over with just her very existence.)
So much for the idea of being the perfect hostess who graciously and with nary a stray eyebrow hair welcomes 20 guests into her yarn studio on a crisp autumnal afternoon.
The guests themselves were hilarious, kind, and lovely. They had a spirit of adventure -- many of them had traveled a long way to place themselves in the hands of a woman they'd never met.
Me, on the other hand? I had many out-of-place eyebrow hairs as we worked until the very last moment getting things ready.
I dictated a brownie quotient to each attendee. "I am not taking any of these home! Eat more! You're not eating enough! Eat at least four more!"
How's that for a nice hostess? Forcing her guests to eat homemade baked goods. I'm sure Martha Stewart does that all the time. Welcome to my home in the Hamptons. HURRY UP AND EAT MORE. NO, THAT'S NOT ENOUGH. MORE. HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REPEAT MYSELF? SIT IN YOUR SEAT AND EAT, DING DANG IT.
(I'm sorry, hilarious, kind, and lovely knitters. I'm sorry that I was neurotic and had messy eyebrows and forced you to eat my brownies.)
Despite the lack of perfection in any area of my life, I had a lovely weekend, because I've decided to give up being perfect. Because ultimately, Miss B is not going to remember how perfect her bride costume was. Only that I made it and that she liked it. And my lovely workshop attendees are (hopefully) not going to remember the forced consumption of baked goods, just that they had a fun time at a yarn studio one Saturday afternoon in October.
The yarn, on the other hand? That's still going to have to be perfect.
Sorry.