Rhinebeck, schmeinbeck

I'm so jealous. So many people I want to meet.

I was going to link every word of that, but I'm tired and I have to pee and you can probably find everybody else through those blogs what I linked.

In other news, I only have a few inches on the second sleeve and the pits to sew up and blocking. And blocking. Oh, me, I hope this goes well.

Oh, and a 200-page magazine to put to bed.

Knock wood on all the above.

Call me Tinkerbell

because I have now tinked and reknitted the equivalent of half of what will be the Brainfart Raglan. Honestly. I keep running across yarnovers I've forgotten to do -- two rounds or five rounds or 13 rounds back, and I don't think it's possible to ladder down and create a yarnover where there was not one before, and frogging and reknitting are probably quicker than all the searching I'd have to do to learn how, and I'd rather be knitting, so. (I have no idea why my earlier laddering down a couple posts ago was successful. I am continually humbled and amazed.)

So this second ball of yarn? I'm knitting it for the fourth or fifth time. You'd think it would be looking pretty beat-up and frowzy by now, but I'm not seeing any ill effects. And this stuff -- Rowan Soft Tweed -- is wonderfully obedient. The first few times I ripped back, I ran a lifeline through the row just before the error row, but I always screwed it up around the yarnovers so that the line would jump up or down a row, which made the ripping back ... complicated. So I finally just said to hell with it and frogged without the lifeline, and the yarn held the stitches so that I was able to easily get the thing back on the needles.

"You must really love knitting," said my husband when he saw me doing yesterday's big frogging (today's was only about an inch-and-a-half, thanks).

"Shut up," said I.

But you know what? I guess I do. And one of these days, it'll love me back.