"If they're looking at the back of your calves..."
I think of ribbing as calming. Like the ocean waves, two knit, two purl, etc. A heartbeat. Yin and Yang if you’re into that sort of thing. I love the texture, the hills and valleys, the elasticity of a ribbed piece.
Throw a decrease in there, especially one that supposed to look nice, and all my zen is gone. I get the concept of the decrease. Mentally, I know what’s supposed to happen. And I’ve been knitting for years, so I should be able to tell what’s a knit, what’s a purl, and whether or not I really did decrease last round. Ha.
There is now a pen and paper in my knitting bag, and you can guess why. The pattern calls for decreases every seven rows, and my first twenty rows ain’t lookin’ so purdy, if you know what I mean. Of course, these are the top of the socks, the things everyone can see. Eek. It’s time to call forth my usual knitting slogan (stolen shamelessly from EZ) that “if I man running for his life can’t see it, it’s not a mistake, but a design element.”
And to adapt a phrase from my late mother, “If they’re looking at the back of your calves, dear, then you’ve done something wrong already.”
With any luck, I’ll have get the hang of it and have stunning stirrupped ankles. Clear plastic rainboots, anyone?
And just because I can’t resist, check out this photo of me enjoying a houndstooth smart car at the Chicago Auto Show. Yes, I knit the scarf I’m wearing (but not the car). Think of the possibilities here! The DestiKNITionsmobile... although in reality, I must confess to being a massive fan of the Nissan Cube.
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