Skip to main content

Unknitting

The knitting of my sweater, my sweater, the one I had been looking at on Ravelry for a long time, was finally taking shape. I was frustrated that things like schoolwork and babies kept taking up all my time. I even had gone to the local yarn shop to search for yarn. Oh, how that Madelinetosh called out to me, but being so frugal, I just could not pay for three whole skeins of that lovely yarn. I mean, what if the sweater didn't even turn out? I would feel so wasteful. I picked a lovely, less expensive yarn and immediately came home and cast on. Then, two days ago, it happened. I noticed I had made a mistake. I sat there and my brain froze. What to do? What do I do? It was several rows back. I remember the yarn shop owner telling me that you can drop a stitch down to the mistake and fix it that way. I tried. I failed. I made it worse. I was in panic mode by this point and had to put the knitting down. I walked away and tried to regain some composure. It haunted me though, all day, and finally I realized that the best thing to do would be to unknit, stitch by stitch, back all those rows. There are too many stitches on the needles for me to even think that I could get them all back on after ripping back. I am just not that good.




Now I can begin to knit again, after all that unknitting. I am excited to see how this sweater turns out.


I also have another project on the needles that is pretty mindless knitting at this point but will become tricky later on. I have it in the car. It is good for me to knit while my husband is driving. That  way, I do not see what he is doing and there are not nearly so many "discussions" about driving. This project is for a friend's baby. At this point, you can't even tell it is a blanket, so I don't think I will ruin any surprises about the final appearance by showing you my progress so far.



On the reading front, I just finished "Call the Midwife". I really enjoyed it except for one part. Too. Much. Information. I skipped ahead through that part. I guess I am what you would call a sensitive soul. I do not like reading about things that I don't want to end up thinking about later. I am now reading a book by Mother Angelica. I feel pretty sure that I won't have to skip through any parts this time!

Join Ginny to see what others are knitting!


Comments

  1. Good job! I probably would have had to quit and hope the ladies at the yarn shop could have helped me out.

    I'm the same with movies or reading, which is why I have to stick to hallmark type movies and Catholic or classic novels.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Door Table

Once there was a store in Georgia. It is no more, but how I wish it was. I likened going in there to treasure hunting. One never knew what was going to be in there, and you had to dig through and wade through all the "other people's treasures" to find your own. I once found a set of blue and white teacups and saucers from England. I found lace handkerchiefs, a rocking chair, and an end table. But by far the best find was my kitchen table. I had stopped by one day while the kids were taking horseback lessons and the then little ones were asleep. The store was not open, but I went up to the window to see if anything new was there. And it was there. The table. And six chairs too! We were in need of a bigger table with Jack on the way. My mom had offered to give us her old one, which I was going to accept if I didn't find something I liked better. I didn't want anyone else to even see the table because I knew it was supposed to be ours, but one can never tell abo

Fog and faith

 I stepped out into the coolness of the November morning to start the car and defog the windows, preparing to take Jack to school. Daylight had yet to appear. As we drove the many miles, the sky lightened, and we could see the mist hanging out just above the grass. We usually listen to a story together on our drive, adding commentary, exchanging a knowing glance or a shocked expression as the twists and turns unfold. I relish this time with Jack. I know that all too soon he will be preparing to leave the nest, like his sisters before him.  On the drive back, I pull my rosary from my purse and pray. By this time, the sun is just about to appear, making the sky a beautiful orange-pink on the horizon. I am pondering much as I pray, for the path I am on is once again rocky and uncertain. Such is life, whether we have faith or not. Faith makes it bearable. For the most part, the road home is a straight shot and I can see the ribbon of road laid out before me, narrowing in the distance. The

A Tale of a Tail (or the excitement of the day)

 First of all, I doubt anyone still checks this little old neglected blog, so I am probably talking to myself right now. But if by chance, there is still someone out there, I will tell the tale of the tail I came to tell. As little boys are apt to do, Peter left his rainboots outside on the front porch several days ago. As they do not add to the decor on the porch, I decided to bring them inside this morning and I put them by the back door, where they belong. There they sat, until the mail truck came by and tucked our mail into the box. I may or may not have mentioned that our property is surrounded by a moat during the rainy days. There is no going to collect the mail without rain boots. Seeing how Peter was supposed to be doing his math lesson, of course he eagerly volunteered to go get the mail. He hopped up from the table and went to put on his boots. The scream that came from him made me leave my seat! I thought he had hurt himself. He claimed there was a roach in his boot. I pick