That part was a Win. But I had to leave Guild early because it was hot and stuffy in the barn, and because the scent of soaps or something was causing my lungs to implode. I got home and discovered that our house had been invaded by ants....
Today is lovely, however. I have decided that the half-baked attempts at fixing one of the knitting disasters Would Not Do. So I've taken over the kitchen table and frogged ten rows (over 300 stitches each). (Frogging = rip it, rip it.) Now I'm tinking one row. (Tinking = one stitch at a time.) The stitch count will be right, and I'll do what I should have done, what I really ought to know I should do by now: I'm going to own my knitting.
Owning my knitting = knowing what works for me, and what utterly doesn't. In this case, a certain way of making two stitches into one just is not in my hands. So this time, when I start the edging, I will use another way. It won't be a Centered Double Decrease, but it'll work, and it will be pretty.
Tinking can be tedious, especially when it's 300 stitches. But - look at that yarn! It's a KnitPicks colourway called Gingerbread House. Can you see the gumdrops scattered amongst the gingerbread? Cherry, grape, lemon, orange, lime... each colour pure and sweet and satisfying. Tinking gives me the opportunity to appreciate the colors, the texture, and the fact that I'm no longer fearful about making mistakes when I knit.
Here's another picture of the gumdrops. The pattern I'm using is called Ruffle My Feathers - a tailored shawlette with just a bit of fancy at the edge. I'm going to love this when it starts to get cooler and I'm wrapped in wool and alpaca, with just a hint of fancy.
At sixty, it's time that I owned my life. That means frogging and tinking, making decisions based on my actual self, reading and expressing and creating and loving and using my energies in the life I have now toward the goals I set now. Regrets... yes, I have regrets. I regret having given up the viola when I was 16. But - I live 5 miles from a store that sells and rents fine stringed instruments. I can pick up a viola and see if my hands still want to play it, if I choose. I have one promising novel in the works (in a drawer). I can take it out of the drawer and devote an hour each day to it, if I choose.
Last time I wrote, I was in the throes of the Tour de Fleece. This is what I spun on the pansies Lollipop spindle. It's just enough for a bookmark or two.
This is the Thai spice, 200 yards of DK gorgeousness. It may become cabled wristwarmers, or a hat. We'll see. I'm very happy with it.
One more thing. The Tsarina of Tsocks has