It Is Happening Again. It Is Happening Again.
Do you remember that crazy feeling churning inside as you watched an episode of Twin Peaks? It was freaky television that had me wanting more from the moment it started. The idyllic Pacific Northwestern town with something lurking just below the surface. There was always a twist, and you could feel it coming.
Much like the way I felt the ominous twinges as I worked endless stockinette on my uCan2 Shell. Like the town of Twin Peaks, my uCan2 Shell is simple and clean on the outside; there is a nasty little secret lurking.
I had decided to work the pattern in the round, in order to avoid excessive seaming. There I was, knitting away with great gusto, closing in on the final armhole decreases. I am thinking about how I am going to rejoin the front and back and knit the funnel neck in the round, which will leave only the shoulders to seam. I am soooo damn clever. Too bad I am not clever enough to realize that I’d bound off flat, rather than in the round.
Yep, that is correct. I just sort of pulled the pieces apart, worked the initial armhole bind offs, and sailed on to the armhole decreases and shoulder shaping of the back and front. It was too late when I noticed the pulling stitches at the underarm.
I want to ignore this and continue on. Just run some sort of reinforcing thread along the underarm area and do some super-clever weaving in of ends to keep the stitches from pulling further. But look where super-clever knitting in the round got me! My strongest urge is to rip the bloody thing from the needles and mash it into the mulch, pound it onto the rocks.
Is it too much to ask that I complete one stinking project? The last three projects on my needles have been re-balled and stuffed in a drawer, or even worse, re-balled and swapped off for some knitting do-dads.
Things could be worse. I could be my father, who has been left behind whilst my mother visits family in Louisiana. This is the first time she’s been away from home -- and my father -- since she and I went to Rhode Island. I was ten. Last night, my father phoned me to ask how my mother folded those little sandwich baggies. To keep his sandwiches fresh in her absence, he resorted to sealing them with tape. Maybe that’s the answer for the wonky underarm stitches…
Much like the way I felt the ominous twinges as I worked endless stockinette on my uCan2 Shell. Like the town of Twin Peaks, my uCan2 Shell is simple and clean on the outside; there is a nasty little secret lurking.
I had decided to work the pattern in the round, in order to avoid excessive seaming. There I was, knitting away with great gusto, closing in on the final armhole decreases. I am thinking about how I am going to rejoin the front and back and knit the funnel neck in the round, which will leave only the shoulders to seam. I am soooo damn clever. Too bad I am not clever enough to realize that I’d bound off flat, rather than in the round.
Yep, that is correct. I just sort of pulled the pieces apart, worked the initial armhole bind offs, and sailed on to the armhole decreases and shoulder shaping of the back and front. It was too late when I noticed the pulling stitches at the underarm.
I want to ignore this and continue on. Just run some sort of reinforcing thread along the underarm area and do some super-clever weaving in of ends to keep the stitches from pulling further. But look where super-clever knitting in the round got me! My strongest urge is to rip the bloody thing from the needles and mash it into the mulch, pound it onto the rocks.
Is it too much to ask that I complete one stinking project? The last three projects on my needles have been re-balled and stuffed in a drawer, or even worse, re-balled and swapped off for some knitting do-dads.
Things could be worse. I could be my father, who has been left behind whilst my mother visits family in Louisiana. This is the first time she’s been away from home -- and my father -- since she and I went to Rhode Island. I was ten. Last night, my father phoned me to ask how my mother folded those little sandwich baggies. To keep his sandwiches fresh in her absence, he resorted to sealing them with tape. Maybe that’s the answer for the wonky underarm stitches…
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