The Dog Ate It

There isn't much in the world that I dislike more than excuses.  Excuses are the crutch of the weak imagination, and at best, a poor substitute for a well-crafted lie.  Of course, I do believe that if one makes a mistake, one had best fess' up, fix it if possible and move on.  Excuses, in my view, are a complete waste of energy.  After all, they don't change anything, and they rarely make anybody feel better.  That said, I am now going to offer you a whole pile of them.  

Remember when I told you, my beloved blog, that I was going to post the Sommelier pattern this week?  Remember how I raved on about its virtues, waxed poetic on its beauty, and promised you that it would be yours in practically no time at all?  Yeah, that turned out to be pretty much wrong.  The photo shoot was rescheduled, after a series of unfortunate events:

1.    My photographer was called out of town.  This lady is the absolute bomb, where picture-taking is concerned, so taking her out of the photo-shoot equation was like removing the gin from a gin and tonic: you'd have to be pretty thirsty to drink what's left over.  Nonetheless, since the models were all ready and the sweaters had been expressed back from tech editing  in Maryland in time to make it, I thought it best to press on.  I planned to take the pictures myself, and cross my fingers. 

2.  The Desert Rain sweater, which was also supposed to be photographed at the same time, decided of its own accord to take a surprise detour to Ohio for TNNA.  Okay, no problem.  We'll arrange a separate date to shoot that one.  It will be fine.  Really.

3.  It's raining.  Of course it's raining.  June in Portland = Monsoon.  It's a mathematical fact.  So what, I thought - wine cellars are indoors!  We'll use a flash.  This development will not deter us in the least.  After all, I still have beautiful sweaters (2 out of 3) and beautiful models.

4.  One of my models is sick.  To her credit, she bravely offered to push through the wall, and come along anyway.  But she didn't feel pretty.  In fact, she felt crappy.  And because she is also my friend, I just couldn't do it to her.  Plus, she might get snot on a sweater. (Just kidding, K - get well soon!)

And suddenly I realized that the universe was no longer whispering a subtle message to me.  It was bludgeoning me with a club made of DUH!  It  was time to admit defeat and abort the mission. 

I have no idea why the universe doesn't want you to have the Sommelier yet, but it clearly does not, and we are all just going to have to get used to it.  My apologies are both deep and sincere.  To all of you would-be Sommeliers, I offer this final shred of hope:  

I engaged the services of some stand-in models, so that I can prove that the Sommelier sweaters really do exist.  Yeah, they're cute, but as models go, let's just say These Aren't The Droids You're Looking For.

I will reschedule the photo shoot, and there will be a pattern on offer.  When, I dare not predict, the universe being as it is. 

I know I promised you a new pattern, but What can I say?  The Dog Ate It.