Sorry it's taken me a while to get around to posting this. I was all set to blog, and indeed was actually in the middle of writing up the final post about Epic Wedding Shawl when disaster struck, in the form of this:
Don't be fooled by that sweet, sleepy face. She's a terrible horrible no-good very bad cat.
I'm sure you can guess where this is going...
On Friday, as planned, I blocked Epic Wedding Shawl. I gave it a nice long bath in wool soak, rolled it up in a towel and blotted it to get most of the water out, then spread it out on my bed. Then for the better part of an hour, I painstakingly measured each lace section and pinned it in place, then gently tugged each little swoopy point along the edging into position and pinned it down as well. Taking a step back, I admired my handiwork...
...and felt a surge of pride so strong I thought my ribs might crack from it. It was beautiful. It was the perfect size. It was delicate and definitely heirloom-worthy. And aside from one random hole (that looks like the result of a dropped stitch I somehow managed to completely ignore, but felt that I could easily fix post-blocking) it. was. perfect.
Since my bedroom door doesn't latch properly, I threw a towel over the top of the door so it jammed in the frame. I figured this would be sufficient to keep the two girls out, and our male cat, while smart enough and strong enough to barrel through that obstacle, spends his days napping on a chair in the living room. Still, I kept an eye on things and no one seemed terribly interested in breaking in. Every so often, thoughout the day, I would go into the bedroom and (under the pretense of making sure everything was okay) gaze admiringly at Epic Wedding Shawl, spread out in all its glory.
I seem to have a qoute bouncing around in my head. Something about pride and a fall...
Jason got home later that evening and the first thing I did was drag him into the bedroom to admire my work. Then I went downstairs to start my post so the rest of the world can admire my work too. I only left it unguarded for fifteen or twenty minutes at most, and since the cats had left it alone all day I really wasn't worried about doing so. But when I went upstairs again, I noticed that the previously-jammed-shut door was now cracked open. Pulse pounding, heart in my throat, I pushed open the door and found my beautiful Epic Wedding Shawl dragged half off the bed, long ramen-noodle loops of thread hanging off it where it had been picked by awful demon cat claws, and pins scattered EVERYWHERE.
Now, Ozzy is not the smartest cat in the world. She's a total sweetheart, but she's really really dumb. Her way of determining whether or not she should eat something is by whether or not it will fit in her mouth. She'd made several attempted-pin-eating efforts earlier in her life, and here she'd been in a room, alone and unguarded, with about a hundred and thirty of them. I'll admit it, I panicked.
Three hours and some very expensive X-rays later, we found out that apparently she'd been so focused on trying to make off with Epic Wedding Shawl that she completely ignored the pins. And after several hours with a teensy little crochet hook, I managed to tug all the loops back into stitches. Amazingly, she also didn't break the yarn anywhere, so while tedious, all the damage done was easily fixed. Last night I reblocked the border to even it out, and Epic Wedding Shawl is now sitting, safe and sound, locked away in the spare bedroom.
And so concludes my Epic Wedding Shawl Adventure.
Now I'm going to focus on knitting some nice boring uneventful socks.