Unlike my sister, I’m not a big fan of horror movies. Oh, I like some of them — but not the ones that are truly creepy. Not the ones that get under your skin. Not the ones that give you nightmares. And certainly not the ones that feature sharp weapons doing bad things.

Ahem. That was foreshadowing. Because sometimes a sharp weapon is just what you need when you’re dealing with The Undead.
Remember my Bohus?

I finished the first sleeve. I finished the body. I started the second sleeve. But somehow, prickling the back of my neck like the sound of a door opening when you think you’re alone, was the inescapable horror: it needed to be longer.
I made myself finish the second sleeve before I took action. I have enough singleton socks and gloves — not to mention a drawer stuffed with one-armed pullovers — to recognize my own limitations. So. I finished the second sleeve. The sweater still felt just slightly too short; I knew I’d be constantly tugging it down in the back. It would haunt me. So out came the big guns scissors.

Off came the bottom hem:

I ignored the shrieks of horror: “Where’s the rest of me?”

I put the fiend back on the needles, and Lucy is proudly wearing a new sash.

Stay tuned. The next time you see my Bohus, which I hope will be later this week, it will be finished. Of course, it was almost eighty degrees here yesterday, so I have NO idea when I’ll ever get to wear it.
Le sigh.































