...I can accomplish in a fashion approximating that with which you
have achieved optimum results.
OK, so I saw my wife's blog today and needed to do this:
You may know by now that my lovely wife taught me how to knit a few months ago. I made the mistake of just hanging out at several UFO Nights at commuknity and she finally had had enough of me distracting the actual knitters with my constant stream-of-consciousness banter. I had been resisting for some time but she presented my initiation as a fait accompli in front of her friends. There was no way I could say no and she knew it.
Now I have to admit something. I like it. The girl started me out right - cast on 28 stitches of Rowan Cashsoft Aran in baby blue ("You can see the stitches better" she told me) on #7 Clover bamboo, then showed me how to knit Continental style. I took off like a house afire, finishing a dozen rows in less than half an hour. I know they're not long rows, but for my first ever it was pretty good speed - and very even, too, if I do say so myself.
In the intervening months I haven't taken much time to knit. I have lately discovered that in situations where listening is required and note-taking isn't, working on my scarf helps me focus on what's being said. My principal will actually let me knit in some parts of staff meetings! Recently I've made more progress and am halfway through my second ball of Cashsoft (this one navy blue - I'll finish with a third ball of the baby blue). Along the way I have unintentionally done the following:
--picked up a stitch from the row below (3 times)
--pulled one stitch through another out of order (2 times that I can find - maybe more)
--increased by one stitch two rows into the navy yarn
--created a short row which was judged by Chloe to be rather well-executed (my favorite!)
I now know first-hand why you FINISH a row before you put down yer knitting...
Also, don't tell your knitting-genius wife that you missed a stitch twenty-three rows back and then (doofus!) ask her "is there any way to fix it?" Before I could tell her it's OK, it's part of the history of the garment and my first knitting, she whips out the crochet hook, slips twenty-two stitches, and (because the hook's too small) spends the next ten minutes zipping it all back up again.
This is why I do things like #4 & #6 without batting an eye.
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