I'm usually pretty good at following directions and catching mistakes early, and I have no qualms about ripping back a row or two or tinking down a few more if I need to fix a stitch... and more often than not I am willing to live with little mistakes, because a) no one but me notices and b) if I need perfect knitting, there are a billion stores selling machine-knit flawless everything. A little glitch here and there is part of the handmade charm. Usually, when I choose to live with a mistake instead of fixing it, I have good reasons. Maybe my short-row is one stitch too short, and I don’t care. Maybe I can’t figure out where my math went wrong and I like the look anyway. The point is, I think I have a pretty healthy attitude about hiccups.
But full-scale frogging?
I ripped out... maybe 12 pattern repeats of my reality knits scarf the first time I started it, because I realized I hadn’t properly thought out the provisional cast-on and it was going to cause me all sorts of misery and angst. (Ironically, I don’t love the ends on the finished version, either! but I don’t hate them enough to kill nine feet and three-years of complicated colorwork.) It hurt like hell, even though I knew it was for the best-- like going to the dentist or picking out a splinter.
And ‘til this week that traumatic necessity was probably my biggest frogged project. Once you hit that point of no return, man, it’s tough! I’ve got a little niche in my craft closet full of swatches-- not the nice, organized swatch stash (say that six times fast) that people recommend a conscientious knitter keep, so no pictures-- that may or may not also include a few ill-fitting hats and other poor choices. I figure eventually, I’ll come up with some use for them-- and I do! I’ve given away hats to other people who fit into them, and now and then a decorative such-and-such comes in handy.
Late last week, though, when I finished my latest charity baby hat (a twisted rib one of which I’m rather proud) I had the bright idea to cast on a reverse-stockinette faux rolled-brim hat next-- the brim knit in stockinette, a small ribbed band to keep it well-fitted, and the rest purled in the same pattern as a plain hat. I got through the brim, the ribbed band, and figured out a clever fix to let me turn the whole thing inside out and knit to the end rather than purl... and....
I hated it.
I hated everything about it. The way it rolled, how wide the ribbing had to be to pull in at all and how poorly it did the job, the way the colors were striping, the gauge of the stockinette, everything. So I did the logical thing: I... kept knitting and knitting, convinced it would even out in a few more rounds and I’d hate it less.
On the train on Wednesday, though, I took a good long look at it. I can usually do 2 of these hats a week pretty easily-- especially stockinette stitch! But there it was Wednesday, and I think I’d cast on on Saturday, and I was going nowhere. So instead of spending my train ride knitting.....
I've never been happier to see wrinkly yarn.
Well, you know how it goes.
For the first time, tearing something out was a relief. I wouldn’t have to hope, wouldn’t have to struggle to fix it in the end, and best of all, I wouldn’t have to look at that damn yarn for a while. (I mean I do love it, but I’ve found that more than 2 hats in a row of any yarn makes me start to hate it.)
Now I’m back to a plain ribbed pattern, which completely flies in the face of my recent I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING I CAN IMPROVISE ANYTHING I WANNA trend, but sometimes it’s not about being innovative. Sometimes a squishy, soft hat with colors pooling in attractive ways is all you need.
Look at those swirrrrls!!!
Yay!
No comments:
Post a Comment