There is peace in dishcloths. It's just a square, and it doesn't have to fit anybody, and they wear out eventually, so they don't really contribute to the detritus in the house, which I appreciate more and more every day. A pretty cotton dishcloth in bright colors makes my mornings nicer. You know what I mean.
I have figured out the solution to the pink cabled pullover, and will get back to it soon. We needed time away from each other so we could sulk and regroup. As always, thank you so much for your kind words of support for my little endeavors. That pattern is aces, and I really believe that all unraveling that must be done should be done without delay, so one can get back down to the business of getting it right. There were a few hasty photos of me trying it on (in the dark, in my pajamas) which were not fit for human eyes--but to give you an idea of how wrong I went, I'll just say this: the bust on my dressmaker's dummy is not representative of where my actual 46-year-old bust actually is, and the cables on the yoke, er, didn't land where they should. Memories of this came to mind. Anyway. Dishcloths. I chained 30 on a biggish hook and worked woven stitch (like this, only smaller) in worsted weight cotton until it was square, then put on a contrasting edging of random shells. Easy. It's a square, and if it doesn't actually end up square, nobody will care because it is for washing the dishes. Whew.