Just Like Ginger

It's one thing to say that you know your knitting inside and out, but quite another to actually DO your knitting inside out.

Enter the magical world of Knitted Lace (different from Lace Knitting: Thanks, English language!). When making knitted lace, increases and decreases happen on every single row. Which means that if you are working flat, you'll be executing half of your sexy lace maneuvers on the wrong side of the work. And they can't just be inside out; they have to also be backwards. But not upside down; unless you are working from the top down, which would give you an aneurysm.

Sometimes it's really easy. To get a K2tog on the right side, you just P2tog on the wrong side. But other times it's brain-hurting, such as when you want a SSK on the right side.  With yarn in front (you are still purling, after all), you have to slip 2 sts as if to knit (re-mounting them), then slip them back to the left needle, then use your right needle to P2tog, but through the back loops (TBL!) which are now mounted weird. And don't get screwed up and do the wrong thing (left-leaning vs. right leaning) on the wrong edge of the lace pattern - I'm still compulsively checking the front of the work to verify which thing to do because I can't seem to internalize the reverse operations.

If I wasn't dyslexic before, I'm pretty sure I am now. 

But even the capricious Knitting Gods have been kind to me in one regard. I worked so many repeats of the pattern in when it was still in the round that I now know it by heart. I just had to add the inside-out dance steps after separating front and back to shape the armholes. And I think I like the armholes, so far, so I've got that going for me.

I'm still worried about running out of yarn (when am I not?), but I was lucky enough to find a knitter on Ravelry who was willing to part with her skein. I have no idea how/if that will work out, since this color had no dye lots (!). Worst case, there will be a noticeable color change somewhere on the back, which I will then have to grow my hair long enough to cover.

You'll only be able to see it when Fred spins me.

Groove=Found

I'm plugging away at my lacy vest-thingy. As you can see, I've finally got command of the lace pattern, and it's behaving pretty well now. I fell back on the old reliable knitted hem to relieve the lower edge curling problem. When you need to add some weight to the bottom of a piece, there's nothing else like it.

Now there are only two more challenges (!): A. When I separate front and back for the armhole shaping, I have to learn how to make mirrored decreases from the WS. and B. Will 900 yards be enough yarn? 

It's a pretty elaborate tube top, if not.

Three Strikes

The only difference between new knitters and experienced ones is how soon we notice mistakes after making them. Not, I repeat, NOT, how often we make mistakes. That's a constant.

Isn't that reassuring? Case in point, this lace panel thingy:

Strike 1:  I totally know better than this, but I forgot. Or more likely, was trying to get to the interesting part sooner. Whichever it was, I made a very narrow band of 1 x 1 rib at the bottom. So narrow is it, in this superwash sock yarn, that it curls like mad. And by "curls", I mean "total roller-shade, up from the bottom". Not flattering. And even though I told myself blocking would help, I know that to be a huge lie. Superwash yarn can only ever do whatever it's doing right now. You can't poke, prod, fold, spindle or mutilate it into any other state.

Strike 2:  Arsed up the last decrease of the pattern. Would it show? Let's see: Um, is it in the very front and center of the piece? Yes. Do other people have eyes? Yes. Then yes, it will show.

Strike 3:  Jacked up the vertical repeat by failing to move the sticky note that was supposed to tell me which row of the pattern I'm knitting.  Turns out that moving the sticky note is a manual process. Will it be noticeable? See Strike 2.

But the best thing of all about this photo is what you can clearly see. I went on knitting for a further three inches after taking note of all these errors, telling myself it would all be okay. It wasn't until I fully got the hang of the pattern that I could see (admit) how much trouble I had been in at the beginning. And every row I knit properly made the earlier ones look that much worse. Until I remembered the words of a very wise knitter, who said to me: "I've never regretted the decision to rip out a mistake, but there have been plenty of times I regretted the decision not to."

So there it is. Would these mistakes haunt and torture me for the life of the garment? Yes. Three strikes; you're out. I frogged the wee beastie. And this photo is the only proof it ever happened. 

Isn't it grand how knitting is the only place where your mistakes don't go on your permanent record?