On the way to Starbucks to meet Lisa I grabbed my camera. I was going to take an amazing, artistic, tasteful and descriptive photo of our coffee and/or knitting. It was a whole plan. When I took the camera out of my bag it was unresponsive. Not a blink or a beep or anything. I vaguely remember that in the past, if the battery was dead it would least blink a little battery with an X to indicate you can try to turn me on but I’m out of juice. I had one thousand heart attacks thinking about what if it wasn’t the battery and what will I do? WHAT WILL I DO?
I used Lisa’s iPad to take a picture (neither amazing nor artistic) of my coffee and put the camera out of my mind. We had a nice time drinking our coffee and chatting. I would say the knitting was nice, too, except that Lisa was knitting Felted Clogs and if you’ve ever knit that pattern then you know it involves a certain amount of attention. I knew she was counting, and yet I didn’t stop all my chatting, and Wraps and Turns were missed. I feel bad. Sorry Lisa!
I rushed home, removed the hopefully dead battery, inserted the back-up battery, and blink! She came alive! What a relief.
I want Jerry to be a knitting boy. This might be a bad idea, because if he takes to it then I’m likely to experience mysterious disappearances of my stash of yarn and needles, but I’m going to try nonetheless.
He’s four, and has always been interested in very tiny things such as confetti and crumbs and other things that come in small bits. I therefore assume his fine motor skills are crazy good.
Jerry sat on my lap, I cast on for him, and we worked about three rows of ten stitches together. He concentrated hard, wasn’t wiggly, and seemed rather interested in the whole thing. We were done after that, but he said to me once he was settled in again playing with legos,
“When I learn to knit, I’m going to make daddy a sweater.”
I'm finally making headway on the purple pea pod.
I feel like a knitting goddess working from a chart. It's not hard, I am a smart person who can understand a pattern, and I rule the world.
We interrupt this knitting broadcast for an urgent message. My friend, the one I'm teaching to knit, just (I mean just.this.instant) called with knitting related questions. We together cast on twenty-five stitches and after knitting a few rows by herself she has suddenly discovered nearly thirty-six stitches on her needle! She's taken to the knitting! She's calling with questions at any hour of the day! She's ready to purl! She understands my fondness for natural fibers and seems to agree! I might start leaping at any moment… back to the pea pod.
So there is a part in one of the SnB books that mentions mistakes in knitting and if you can't see them from a prancing pony…or if a prancing pony is wearing the item with the mistake…or something…then the mistake is okay…or whatever…
So I noticed a mistake in the leaf section on the sweater. It seems as though I missed a yarnover. It is in the first pattern repeat, and I'm on the third pattern repeat, and I kinda just decided to let it go. I was telling the husband about it and he asked (having barely overheard the whole prancing pony bit on occasion): "Can you see it from a horse?"
I laughed, corrected him ("duh, it's prancing pony"), and decided that if Maggie is wearing this bitty sweater while prancing around on a pretty pony and a casual observer ambles by, NO, the mistake would not be visible.