The lavender vest has been frogged three times.
Three.
If this yarn had any self-respect, it would’ve filed for a restraining order by now. But no. We’re "committed." This vest is officially less about knitwear and more about "personal development," which feels like a targeted attack. I just wanted a cute layer. Instead, I’m apparently unearthing "character growth." Gross.
Knitting: The Gateway to Accidental Introspection
When I knit, my brain goes off-leash. Sometimes it’s plotting world domination. Sometimes it’s wondering why I said that one awkward thing to a friend in 2004. Mostly, it’s a full-blown corporate retreat for my business.
My hands are doing a basic stockinette while my brain hosts a board meeting. I’ll be halfway through a row thinking:
What systems am I neglecting now?
Why am I not "engaging" with my online people more?
Is this a nesting reflex or just insecurity wearing a productivity hat?
ADHD is a blast like that. Knitting doesn’t actually silence the committee in my head. It just gives them a slightly softer place to sit while they yell at me.
The Workshop Hangover
I gave a workshop on February 25th. I think it went well. I think. People were into it. The feedback was good. It felt solid.
And then, right on cue, the Internal Review Board showed up. You know these absolute joy-killers. They don't just critique. They conduct a forensic audit of your soul.
"Sure, they liked it, but could you have been clearer?"
"That slide was a mess."
"Was your authority 'clear' enough, or did you just sound like three raccoons in a trench coat?"
"Did you overtalk? (Yes.) Did you underdeliver? (Probably.)"
I tell myself it’s "refinement instinct," but let’s be real. Sometimes refinement is just doubt with better branding and a clipboard. So, instead of hiding in my usual "safe" work tasks, I decided to actually follow my own advice. I asked AI (Bob, because of course he has a name) to help me engineer five balls of lavender wool into something that isn't a tent.
The Vest of Mildly Aggravating Personal Growth
The plan was simple. A minimalist, open-front vest. Thigh-length. Dramatic slits. High-low hem. Subtle waist shaping. You know. "Casual."
For years, I’ve lived in boxy, shapeless clothes. Safe shapes. No risks. But lately? I’m tired of hiding. Not in my business, not in my creativity, and definitely not in my closet. I decided this vest would "skim" instead of "float."
And that’s when the drama started.
The I-Cord Incident
Version one bowed at the edges. The attached i-cord was too tight and pulling inward. My first instinct? The classic Pivot.
"Seed stitch would be prettier anyway."
"Maybe I don’t even like minimalism."
But Bob did something very annoying: he was helpful. He calmly suggested that maybe "pivoting" out of frustration is just a habit I have.
Rude. Accurate, but rude.
How many times have I changed direction just because things got a little friction-y? Instead of redesigning the whole vest to hide the mistake, I frogged it. I restarted. I loosened the tension. I stayed the course.
It worked. That wasn’t just a knitting win. That was a "stop running away from minor inconveniences" win.
Frogged Three Times (And Sadly Improving)
**Version One:** Too drapey.
**Version Two:** Great structure, but those "choking" edges.
**Version Three:** Balanced. Intentional. Might actually fit? (Don't look at it too hard. I don't want to jinx it.)
Each restart wasn't a failure. It was a refinement. It mirrors the workshop. It mirrors the business. You don't scrap the whole vision because of a tension problem. You just adjust the stitch.
Comfort Zones and Purple Wool
I’ve spent years wearing clothes that help me disappear. Big. Loose. Safe.
This vest acknowledges I have a waist. It moves. It has intention. It feels mildly rebellious, which is pathetic for a piece of knitwear, yet here we are. Knitting this while spiraling about business systems has been oddly poetic. Every time I think "I should show up more," I’m literally knitting something that won't let me hide.
AI: The Co-Pilot Who Won't Let Me Quit
I still knit every stitch. I still chose the yarn. But having Bob there for the gauge anxiety and the neck-roll drama kept me from derailing. For the ADHD brain, the gap between "this is annoying" and "I'm quitting forever" is where projects go to die.
Bob closed that gap.
Where We Are Now
4.0 mm needles.
Beautiful lifted increases.
Calm i-cord edges.
A vest that is framing me instead of swallowing me.
World domination? Still pending. Self-discovery? Unfortunately in progress. Lavender wool? Thriving.
Stay tuned for Part Three. Until next time friends...