Saturday, August 28, 2004


Obviously Not a Real Knitter

I found a flaw in the Binkie of the Bosphorous. A mistake. Two in fact; six stitches apart. Small enough that nobody will notice. Large enough that I will notice.

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? If I notice, everyone will. I'm half blind.

I anguished over this for some time. If I were a real knitter, I would have without hesistation plunged into the 'tink and reknit' portion of the program. But ... it's eight rows. And I'm tired. And I'm sic (I've managed to pick up a summer cold). And eight rows is over 1300 stitches and I didn't know if I could bring myself to undo them.

Why yes, I ~would~ like some cheese with that whine, very kind of you to ask.

Before anyone starts taking a fit, of course I tinked, but I thought long and hard about it, first. Obviously I am a pretender and should return my brand new Magpie and Addis immediately.

Ha! You can pry 'em out of my cold, dead hands, babycakes.

While I'm in confession mode, I think I'll take this opportunity to mention that I don't like ponchos. I am not a small woman, and I keep thinking that if I go out in a poncho I'm going to hear a small voice piping up from the crowd, with perfect diction, "Look mummy, that big lady's dressed just like our sofa!"

I live in fear of this because that is just the sort of scenario my mother had to live down, many times, when I was a child. She has repeatedly told me of her humiliation when I said "Oh look mummy, penguins!" in clear piping tones on the bus when a bunch of nuns got on. No, we're not Catholic, can you tell?

The most romantic thing my husband has ever said to me is "Of course I have to take care of you; you're only little. And you're a clumsy bitch." (And before anyone gets up in arms, yes, for us that IS romantic, I giggled for days.) I'm not that little, 5'6", but yeah, I AM clumsy. If by some stroke of luck I managed to make a poncho that didn't make me look like a Weeble, or, even worse, like Weebl, you just know that somehow I would manage to get the end of it caught in the door of a train (nevermind that I haven't been on a train since I moved back from Banff something like sixteen years ago) and would get dragged along the tracks for six miles before anyone realized there was anything wrong. Either that or I'd end up somehow dipping the fringes into a public toilet and would catch a horrible disease. Neither scenario is appealing.

I think I may skip that particular experience if it's all the same to you.

It's way too late to tell you this, so I should probably just stfu, but it's possible to corerect errors 8 rows (or more) down withough tinking the whole damned thing. It involves sacry stuff like little short dpn's (not joined in the round), but it *can* be done.

Even on cables (ask me how I know this).

You didn't want to know this, did you?
Man I freakin hate that. I hate when I crochet and I find out half way thru the stinkin thing that I messed something up. I have to tear it down to the fuckup and fix it. Though with knitting it looks like it would be a lot harder, and a lot more time consuimg. Yech.
I know that you can pull stitches up, but I don't even know what I DID here. And all of my dpns, even the three (three!) new sets from Addi are long-ish and oh, just shut up, it's done now. But thank you.
You didn't ride on a train when you were here in Gif Gif Gifu?
Oh yeah, I took a train to Nara and I think we might have gone by train to Kyoto as well. It was in 1991 so I'm fuzzy on the details.

I've been on the Skytrain here too (not to be confused with the Seabus or the Roadboat) but that's hardly a ~train~.
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