I’m sure when some knitters hear phases like “Oh god! Don’t knit that? You’ll want to jab your needles into your eyes by the end of it” or “You’ll never get into the rhythm of it because there is no rhythm. You’ll mostly hate making it,” those knitters would think better of casting said project on. Some knitters would think that the while the final project is stunning and beautiful, it is best viewed with awe and respect from a distance. You know, like a lion. Majestic and regal and not really something I want sharing my sofa with me while I watch TV or snuggle with my Hubby. (First, our sofa is certainly not large enough for two people and a lion, and also my Hubby is very allergic to cats. It would only end in tears and asthma attacks. Plus can you imagine a lion wanting to chase your yarn while you knit!) Some knitters, maybe even most knitters, would be rational and think it through before casting on the project.
But not me. Oh no. I still need to make what I want to make and I have proven repeatedly that when it involves the fibre arts I may not be the most sane or rational person on the planet. So, warnings were tossed to the wind and a linen stitch scarf was cast on. 449 Stitches on the needles and then I took a deep breath and began. At first it was going mostly swimmingly. I was a little concerned about the colours I’d picked, but still loved the overall effect.
So I kept knitting away. I ignored the fact that I was so tired I could barely see straight. I ignored the knitter’s voice of reason inside my head that said “you’re too tired. This is not going to go well for you.” I ignored the fact that I had to write down on a sticky note how I wanted to combine the three different colours because my brain couldn’t hold the pattern and knit at the same time. I ignored it all and I kept knitting.
This morning I picked it up with my morning coffee and fretted a little about the colours. I showed my Hubby who nodded in approval and I started knitting. And then I found it.
If you can’t really make it out from the photo I’ll explain. My scarf has a Stegosaurus ridge right up the middle of it’s back. This little inclusion is what happens when you are too damn stubborn to put your knitting down when the voice is telling you to, and you inadvertently create a short row where no short row was ever meant to be. And then, if you’re me, you knit three more rows before really cottoning on to the mistake even when your knitter’s voice was trying desperately to get your attention. It knew. It knew as I was doing it. It knew when I had a chance to fix it. It knew when I knit the next row and thought “that end seems like a slightly different width.” It knew the whole time. And over my morning coffee I knew too. I did briefly consider spiking my coffee with tequila, but in the end just frogged it all out and started again.
But, since I wasn’t convinced of the colour choices anyway and had already wished I had cast it on in something heavier than fingering, I changed the whole thing up. Now I’m using these.
That’s three skeins of sport weight and I’ve moved up to 6mm needles. I cast on 305 stitches ’cause that where the tail ran out and I’ve started again. No real pictures to show yet. But soon there will be. The frog pond will not be visited again. That I can assure you. Next time, I’ll listen. Probably.