Saturday, March 04, 2006



I used to work with a guy who, when presented with something he didn't agree with, would simply say "False."

"Are you working tomorrow?"
"Duke University?"
Or sometimes...
"Cigars smell bad."

Folks, I have encountered a falsification in my knitting.

The deets: Chicknits' Twist pattern, a cardigan with cable detailing on the front. The yarn is Brown Sheep's Lamb's Pride Superwash in Ocean Sky, a really lovely opally purple blue. I saw it in Mystic River Yarns in Mystic, Conn., on a recent weekend jaunt with Mr. Cupcakes.

I'm starting with the back. Very simple stockinette. Good times. Then I picked up my needles again, and three things happened:
1. I started shaping for the shoulders.
2. I joined a new skein of yarn.
3. Graybaby came and sat on my lap, making me hold the needles awkwardly on my right side. (I can't push her off. She had diabetes!)

After a nice evening of knitting, I looked over my work and recoiled. Yes, RECOILED.

There's a weird joggy row followed by oddly shaped stitches that do not match the previous stitches.

Hypothesis 1. New yarn is secret agent of doom, looking identical (down to dye lot) to the other skeins, but actually possessing powers of wonkiness.
Hypothesis 2. Holding needles awkwardly on one side of body pulled the stitches oddly.
Hypothesis 3. I am hated by world, God, etc., and am being punished.

Regardless of the scientific explanation, it's time to frog. Rip-it rip-it!

Um, you mean you aren't supposed to have those unique characteristics throughout your knitted garment? You realize that I would be doing more frogging than knitting, if that were the case.

Well, it seems that all is well with the world since I saw you bindoff the back yesterday . . . Yeah!
I don't see the problem. This is probably why I don't knit. Pretty color!
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