Went shopping today for yarn of a particular dye lot a month after obtaining the first skein. Typically, I'm too squeamish and terrified of not finding said dye lot to let that much time pass, but since it's for the Cheap-n-Cheerful (which will probably soon be renamed Turkish Flaw--for reasons you'll soon understand), I wasn't too worried. I mean, seriously, the yarn's sparkly. Sparkly acrylic. Where's the harm in a slightly off dye lot?
But I still trudged off to Box Store with my original ball band and lo, the entire bin of Caron Simply Soft Party is the same dye lot. At least this bin is. Thank the yarn goddesses that Caron has long dye runs.
The name will be changed to Turkish Flaw Scarf, because, well, it will have a major Turkish flaw. See the five stripes there on the end of the scarf (five is folded slightly under, but you can see the corner if you look)? I like odd numbers. Numbers are part of my OCD crazy and, while I haven't been severely OCDish for a while now, there are some carry-overs into my "closer to normal" years that I see no reason to get rid of. Harmless peccadilloes, little eccentricities that I can cast off or just leave in as the mood takes me, and one of them is the numbers. For whatever reason, almost all OCD sufferers enjoy a bit of crazy around the numbers. Most find even numbers to be 'safe', I (ever the rebel) am just the opposite: Numbers should be odd. Prime, when I'm spoiled for choice.
I had planned, when it was the new new plan, to do two sets of five stripes and a large swath of blue sparkles in the middle for the scarf--because that Miro itches like nobody's business and I really have no desire to have it lying on my neck. *shiver* Just the thought makes me twitchy. As to the stripes, five is an excellent odd number--a prime, too, which just makes me giddy as a schoolgirl. But then I noticed:
I don't. I don't even, to be honest, have a third of the ball there. Um. Ooops.
So the new new new plan for the Turkish Flaw Scarf is to have the five stripes on the beginning end and three stripes at the other. Sort of an honorific, too, as the Miro swaths are 8 rows long. And there's 8 rows of garter stitch between the Miro bombs. The numbers fit together nicely and I'm pretty happy with it. And I hope there's enough left over for my tassels. If not, I might cry, but I'm saving up the scraps and such, so I should be able to bodge something together. I'm good at the bodge. It's a useful life skill, particularly when you spent nearly 15 years of your life physically incapable of opening doors for yourself because you'd have an uncontrollable, hysterical crying fit in front of the entire mall population if you did.
Don't ever mock the OCD, people. Unless you've been there, you have no idea.
Although, on reflection (and to get back to the scarf, which is the purpose of the post), is it so much a Turkish Flaw as an exercise in asymmetry? Asymmetry is a pleasing visual, too, you know. I have a new scarf planned (beyond this one) that makes use of asymmetry. You will see, when I get there. Anyway, I think we'll keep going with Turkish Flaw as the new new new working title for this one, since I had no intention to play with the asymmetry theme for this scarf. It would be a flaw, if I didn't like the asymmetry.
Practice. I'll regard it as practice.