The steeked jacket sleeve crisis really got me down yesterday. I hate losing all that time. But then I felt silly because something so trivial as that should not cause mild depression, should it?
The novelist, Peter Carey, once said, when asked how he felt about throwing away writing and starting over, 'We're writers. That's what we do. We write,' or words to that effect.
I like to apply it to knitting.
We're knitters. That's what we do. We knit.
And if that means starting something over, so be it. It would be a greater waste of all those hours if I tossed it aside, wouldn't it? I mean, I've learned so much from this project, so it's not a waste in that sense. But I don't want to fail.
So, some email discussion with Julie reveals that the idea I had early this morning that I could pull it back to the elbow and then work a greater number of increases in sounds like it will work. I'll do it.
But when I'm good and ready, damn it!
And in good news, Gemma, if you're reading, I haven't forgotten you. Gemma won my blogiversary contest in May. It took me weeks to find the wool I wanted to send her once I drew her name in June. But I found it (it was hiding in my stash, the cheeky bugger) and it shall be sent. I have the packaging, a card and a little something extra. Better late than never, right? Forgive me?
Bells
19 minutes ago
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