Friday, January 20, 2006

Shedding Dog, Swearing Mum

Who, me? shed?

Children can expose the least savory aspects of one's character. At least mine can. From the ordinary: the baby inevitably creeps under the one piece of furniture I haven't gotten the dog hair swept up from, to the really rotten: I become a fiend if I can't concentrate at least once daily on something without little people talking to at me.

Yesterday was the debut of Naptime is for Knitting. What is this daily exercise? Well, we get up every morning, eat, do "morning pick-up" (they pick up, I sweep, so the baby won't ingest an entire puppy's worth of dog hair), then we do our schoolwork and any errands.

But. . . once that sweet little baby naps, all the three older ones are hustled into the back yard, with a timer, weather-appropriate clothing, and strict instructions to Get Along and Don't Come Inside Until the Timer Goes Off, Understand?

That is why yesterday, this

became this

and then this

As you can see, I'm still making mistakes. As you can't see (unless you own the patterns), it's not "Glorianna." It's "Dainty Bess." Apparently my brain can't do the former, only (partially) the latter. I plan to face up to my YO problems along the way.

I decided during my first swatch, the one I threw away, that it was probably the needles. I tried every US size 5 needle I owned, and ended up with the improvised ones you see in the picture.

I considered that the problem might be my relationship with the yarn, but that a lace scarf in worsted weight wool probably wouldn't have the same effect. It's still probably an Olympic effort from me, considering the aforementioned YO impairment I seem to knit under, but not what I planned at all.

Then I decided the problem was the pattern, and I may be getting closer. We'll see how it all works out.

Oh, and I've used my graciousness in not running out to buy new, short, straight, bamboo US size 5 needles as a reason to seriously consider buying more blocking pins.

1 comment:

A said...


(dog hair + baby = one of my worst peeves. ew.)