What's worse than casting off hundreds of stitches around the circumference of s baby blankie?
Casting off, then realizing that the edge was unattractively curling, and frogging back those hundreds of stitches back into the needles to correct the glaringly obvious error. Apparently, after 25 years of knitting, I still have not learned that stockinette curls, and requires a border that does not curl by nature.
There was another questionable lapse in judgement last night. Not my lapse, another regular at Knittervention. Casey had dug into her stash and discovered buried treasure: a lone skein of merino wool gifted from Russia. She selected her pattern (a slouchy hat) and cast on. A little later, she tesluzed that she had kept casting without counting, long since having passed 72 stitches.
When I made a joke about checking her guage and measuring her head before ripping out the fifty or so extra stitches. So she did, and realized guage was way off. I looked at the pattern, and realized the problem. The pattern called for Aran weight, and her yarn is more like fingering, sport at best. No problem, just add a few repeats to the lace, and recalculate.
This was a recipe for disaster. Casey was asking me to do math! After a cider! I think we got it right, but I still have this sinking feeling there was a time bomb ticking away in our numbers that will bite Casey in the bum later when I am not around.
Today, it is all about the tick, tick, tick.
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