So there I was, packing up my stuff to go spend the weekend at my mom’s, when I experienced the heartbreak every cable knitter feels at least once: a mis-crossed cable. I have no idea how I let these things slip into my knitting, but every time I do a project with a non-trivial cable in it I get at least one of these.
Why didn’t anyone point that out earlier? Huh?
*sigh* Tragedy. At first I was going to be all clever and just rip the two stitches of the cable back and then pick them up, but a few seconds of actually trying that convinced me of its futility. I did that trick a couple times when I made my first Aran, but that yarn was much less kerschmuggly than Lamb’s Pride Worsted is. Kerschmuggly is a word that I just invented to describe the tendency of some frizzy yarns to bind to themselves when they’re knit or crocheted up. A really kerschmuggly yarn is a pain in the ass to rip out because the stitches just won’t let go of each other.
If “kerschmuggly” had a prior meaning, I am very sorry. Find another word.
The band is going pretty quickly now, so I made up the ripped-out progress in just a few minutes. I actually ran out of yarn to work with this afternoon and resorted to reading the copy of the Yarn Harlot’s new book that I bought for my sister. My front right tire had a bad sidewall bulge in it that was going to probably blow, so I had to go to Voldemart to get a replacement. Sorry, sis, but you’re going to get the book slightly used.
While I was at my mom’s, she showed me one of the quilts that she’s currently working on. This one is going to be a gift for one of her Ya-Ya sisters. It’s got flip-flops on the front and a pair of sunglasses on the back for the label.
Even though she’s got a “Martha Stuart Doesn’t Live Here” tile in her kitchen, my mom sets a very nice table. In fact, she’d like to offer all of you coffee drinkers some cream if you take it.
(The first time I saw that I thought it was awfully gross. Now I can’t stop laughing.)