Pardon me for being a tiny bit cranky in my first post, but I’ve just been frogging the bottom of the back of my sister’s sweater, and it’s landed me in my own personal hell. Before I started, I guess I thought that once I picked open the slip knot, it would just go zip-zip, and I could reknit the seven rows in question quickly, then get on to the first sleeve. Very quickly, I realized that getting through the cast-on bit was a more complex operation and would take some time. That was fine, almost meditative, and I had a fine time thinking about the blog that I apparently am beginning (I've been afraid of the idea for a while, and I have a lot to think through before I really know what I'm about here ... but that may be for another post), but then I reached the second row and it was even more difficult. Why? Whywhywhy?
The pattern is ... missing at the moment. I'd put it nearby, because I knew I was going to want to include the details, but then my boys, ages 10 and 5 (hereafter known as 10 and 5, respectively) arrived at the front door soaking wet from playing in the two inches of wet snow we got overnight here in Virginia, and I had to peel them out of their layers and negotiate about hair washing and hot coacoa, and the pattern has wandered off. Oat Couture? A raglan pullover, very simple, that can be knit in either chunky or worsted. I, being an instant gratification kind of gal, am of course doing the chunky rendition, in Linie Iceland 97, in the reds -- a loosely plied beauty with little white plicky things all over it that I expected to shed but don't. A pleasure to knit. And not cheap -- my darling sister, tagging along to the LYS with me one day, fell hard for a sweater the owner had made in the same yarn, different colorway, and promptly forked out the $150-odd for enough for this sweater.
So maybe I didn't pay complete attention to the instructions about the slip-stitch rib, and maybe we had family visiting and I was a wee bit in my cups. I realized this when I started the front, which is the same as the back, and checked the instructions again and saw the part where it says to knit the slipstitch rib until 1 1/2 inch and NOT 1/2 inch, as I'd thought. In looking at the photograph, I also realized that what I had knitted didn't look like the picture, and I figured out that I'd ended the ribbing on a purl row (or knit -- whichever one I was NOT supposed to end with) so that what we see on the right side of the garment is the wrong side of the slipstitch rib.
Sigh.
So I worked out this whole scheme where I would finish the front and then take my circular and pick up the stitches eight rows up so I could just frog it and (viola!) there it'd be, ready for me to knit back down to the end, correctly. I felt very smart. And now I have a tangled mess.
But you know what? I'm going to get through it, and it will be right, and all will be well.
This blog. I suppose it's going to be yet another knit blog, although it certainly won't be limited to knitting. My reasons for doing this, as I know them so far, are:
1. I want to write about my knitting, and I can't seem to do it by hand. Isn't that weird?
2. I'm hoping it will get me off my butt enough to learn about my very nice digital camera my dad gave to me, so that I can take photos and upload them and open up that whole new world. I've been itching to take some pix, and to document my knitting as I see other knit bloggers do. I love that.
Please to excuse me; 10 needs his hot coacoa.
3. I want to explore the creative process ... but not in a particularly intellectual way. More in a mindful way. I don't know. Never mind.
4. I want to see what happens. Things always happen.
Speaking of things happening: I just had to get up and help my 12-year-old son (12) because he stepped in dog vomit. Barefoot, of course -- and he tolerated it surprisingly well, as he is the one of all my children with the squirreliest stomach.
Did I mention I have children? Just one more, my 15-year-old daughter (who has yet to forgive me for 12, 10 and 5). And a husband, for whom I'd like to take more time to come up with a pseudonym. Dogs, a cat, a bird, a rabbit, some fish. Before long, I may be nattering about gardening almost as much as knitting. I'm also a writer and editor and proofreader, and I love words, so ... this is all kind of exciting. Welcome. And thanks. Whom am I thanking? I don't know. Just putting it out there.
