But I do have time for a short post, and so here we are. I mentioned some knitting adventures last week, and in fact, after a really good run, I had *two* such knitting adventures. And what were those, pray tell?
*look of innocence*
(1) Let's just knit all these stitches together and move on with our lives, shall we?
I've been knitting for what feels like a decently long time now. Close to 10 years, maybe in the 8 year range. And though I wouldn't call myself an expert by any means, I still feel able to tackle more advanced projects. I'm not always *successful* mind you, but I have the skills to at least try. But every once in a while, even in a project that comes much easier to me (like knitting socks, because I've been doing that for years) something...*wonky* happens. I don't know how to define wonky exactly, just something that happens that shouldn't have happened. And I've found that when that happens, I am very averse to:
(a) figuring out what happened, and
(b) fixing it.
I just really, really want to plow ahead and finish whatever it is that I'm working on. I truly don't want to go BACKWARDS, kwim? And so the other day, when I was turning the heel on a Pittsburgh Steelers sock I'm knitting for my father-in-law's birthday, I suddenly realized that I had far more stitches on one end of the heel than I did on the other. And do you want to know what I did?
I sighed. I looked at the sock angrily. I pushed the stitches around a bunch on the needle. And then I knit something like 5 stitches together on the one side to even things out, and moved onto the gusset. And they look fine. Right?
Fine, they look fine, right?! *I demand that you agree to this* If a bit like a pair of socks a giant bumble bee would wear...
The heels don't *look* uneven, so hope springs eternal that he won't notice anything when he wears them. Because I wasn't redoing that heel. No awards for Knitting Martyrdom being given out over here. ;-)
(2) "Join in the round, being careful not to twist." *simmers with rage*
OK, keeping it real here. There are few things that vex me more in my knitting life than joining an item in the round after I have cast on. Here's the process:
(a) I dutifully cast on all 253 *freaking* stitches.
(b) I pause and take a breath, because this is the big moment.
(c) I line all of those stitches up like little soldiers, making sure they all face the same direction and are not twisted in any way, shape, or form.
(d) I VERY CAREFULLY place a stitch marker to indicate the beginning of the round.
(e) I recheck all the little stitches. Yep, all facing in same direction, no twist.
(f) I join in the round.
(g) I knit happily.
This is all going fine until DISASTER STRIKES. I've now knit over an inch of fabric, and do you want to know what I suddenly see?
|That is Evil Incarnate right there. Next to my adorable and matching stitch marker, yes it is true.
Um hum, that's right. That's what makes it so insidious. You never know about The Evil right away. You are knitting and knitting, la, la, la, all the while thinking that things are FINE when in fact they are decidedly NOT FINE. I'm knitting so sweetly and innocently, and then I think to myself: "Oh, I need to straighten out this little twist so that I can keep knitting, how did that happen? It should be fine by time I get to the end of the round, BECAUSE I KNOW THAT THERE WERE NO PERMANENT TWISTS IN THIS THING WHEN I JOINED IN THE ROUND!"
Shouting things to yourself makes them so. I've tried and tested this theory.
I straighten the "temporary" and "merely inconvenient" twist. I knit a little more. "Why there's that twist again! This thing must have gotten really twisted up in my knitting bag! I'll straighten it again." I straighten it. And then I do The Scary Thing. I pursue the twist, pulling it straight all the way to the end of the round, where SURELY it will meet another twist going in the opposite direction and the fabric will flatten out like a dream, reverting to it's natural untwisted state.
I get to the end of the round. The twist is still there, looking up at me mockingly. I swear it even cackled at me.
And that moment, my friends? Combined with looking back at the pattern, and seeing this phrase:
"Join in the round, being careful not to twist."
Let's just say that you might be a little shocked by what came out of my mouth next. You might even be scandalized, gently tell me that I may have a problem if I get this upset by twisted knitting, and suggest that I avail myself of the Sacrament of Reconciliation.
You wouldn't be wrong, but I would ignore you. I would then picture the designer in my mind, and then imagine myself punching them right in the face. I would then go into my kitchen and consume a shot of whiskey.
And the fate of the cowl? *delicately clears throat* It's now a mobius design. I MEANT to do that. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.
This post wasn't all that short, was it? But it was fun to write, and all stream of consciousness, so I wrote it quickly. ;-) I'm dancing both days this weekend, in an exhausting festival run. If you think of it, around 1 and 3 pm EST on Saturday and Sunday, wing up a prayer that your Catholic Librarian isn't currently humiliating herself by falling off of the stage. With a sword on her head.
I will talk to you all next week. And if you have any crafting fails, do write in and tell us all about them. :0