Courage, in all forms

There are some knitting actions that require extra courage.  These are best saved for knitting among like-minded friends, who can provide commiseration and encouragement.  Alcohol is suggested, but not required.

Monday was Knittervention, and I came armed with just such an assignment.  Ages ago, I started the Swirl Skirt.  I loved many things about the skirt.  I loved the overall design.  I loved the color progression.  I loved the yarn.

As so often happens, there was a hidden bug that revealed itself too late.  Not a failing of the pattern or yarn, I regret to say.  This was completely user error.  The skirt was way too long.

It is knit on the bias (read:diagonal, for those unfamiliar with fiber nomenclature), so the length of the skirt is difficult to judge pre-assembly.  At some point, however, it became obvious to even the most dense of knitters (that would be me) that this skirt was going to be a foot longer than I wanted.

I am not sure if the extra foot was a failure of my gauge swatch (swatches lie worse than lawyers, politicians, and used car salesmen combined, after all), a reflection of me losing 40 pounds since I cast on, or a change in my expectations, but the facts were plainly before me.

And so was the solution, no matter how much I wanted to deny it:  I had to rip out the whole bloody thing and start over.

I finished the ripping, but have put aside the starting over for a few weeks.  I have other things to focus on, and I want to make sure that my anger at the yarn for not knitting the proper size has time to fade before I try again.

Today, it is all that the re-start delayed.

From the Mouths of Husbands

My sweetie may have blundered into the perfect vacation knitting project.

We were cleaning the kitchen, and he said that I needed to make more dishrags.  No problem.  I pulled out six finished ones, that only needed their ends woven.  Then I moved onto cleaning off the kitchen table, and switching the dirty placemats for clean ones, when he observed that the placemats were probably at the end of their lifespan.  The lining pretty much disintegrated after the first watch, and are the same now that they were a few years ago, but then he said words that perked my interest.  "You could knit new ones."

It took about three minutes on Ravelry to locate a pretty pattern, and I was tempted to rush out right away to buy yarn.  Then some sense of logic prevailed, and I decided that it could wait a few days.  This would be a good project to take knitting.  Basic, easily memorized pattern.  Small enough for instant gratification.  New enough for excitement that will maintain through the whole trip.

Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner!  

My husband, the knitting planner.  Who knew?

Today, it is all about the spouses  of women who knit.

Planning

For the past week or so, I have been starting vacation planning.  I have evaluated suitcases, balanced wardrobe and weather considerations, and mentally set aside electronic devices.  Then I realized that I had forgotten the most importantpart: the knitting.

Something small and compact.  Something with minimal yarn requirements.  Something interesting enough to hold my attention, but not so complicated as to invite an insurmountable issues.  Something that wil noto be finished in the first few days, leaving me knitless and cranky.  Preferably more than one somethings, in varying degrees of difficulty.  

Right now, I have nothing to knit.  Well, I have two socks in progress that would be appropriate.  And I have my mother's scarf, but that is almost finished.  I have the purple lace shawlette, but that is almost finished too, and I kind of want to have it to wear.  I have the mittens, but they have five different colored skeins of yarn.    

That's it, I have nothing to knit.  I need to go shopping!

Oh, I suppose that you are going to remind me of the half dozen half-finished things in theknitting bag.  Well, who asked you?  

Today, it is all about the shopping justification.