I have picked up 231 stitches around my little triangle twice already. Now I have to do it again. Why? Because I, in my Random Act of Stupidity for the past seven days, I knit the chart in the wrong direction. And today my yarn arrived for the two other shawls I intend to knit after this one. I can hear it yelling at me already.

I need to prioritize again. There's a charity group meeting this weekend and I have to finish my third chemo hat. Then it's back to work on the burial gown. After the meeting it's time to finish off the daughter's Gold Medal Socks as she is done competing for the year. And once they're done I'll start picking up those 231 stitches again.

There. We have a plan.

The river is flowing again

After agonizing for several days over the probable error in the Flowing River shawl chart I summoned the courage to email the designer, who promptly replied that there should in fact be yarn overs on the two rows in question. And now we are chugging along nicely once more. My life would be ever so much easier if I could learn to (1) trust my own brain, which usually functions fairly efficiently despite my doubts (I knew there had to be YOs in those rows, but would I listen to myself?), and/or (2) not be too cowardly to ask for clarification should there be any question regarding cerebral functionality. But as I spent a good hour last week trying to fix a wonky stitch count that resulted from my trying to turn an ordinary knit stitch into a yarn over, I am very aware that there are times when the ol' brain simply cannot be trusted.

As for the green splotch, I have decided to make my peace with the unwholesome pooling. It is fortunate, actually, that the splotch decided to centre itself squarely on my upper back rather than splatting over a shoulder blade or some such asymmetrical atrocity.

Chart 4 awaits.

Pooling and nonexistent stitches

Why is it that things that should be simple cause me endless worry, hair-pulling and chocolate consumption? There are times I regret not being much of a drinker.

I'm plugging away at the Flowing River shawl and enjoying it, for the most part. There has been a lot of ripping and reknitting, as is customary for me when there is something good on TV, and there is more lifeline fibre than actual working yarn. I am coming to the end of chart 3, which is the little triangle at the top centre. I find myself looking forward to several rows of plain knitting or purling, with no increases or decreases. But wait! The chart shows that the triangle continues to get wider as one knits the plain rows. That is, the rows with no increases. How do the rows get wider with no increases? What am I missing? How can I knit into an edge stitch that does not exist? Should I toss in some YOs? Is this the end of life as we know it? Perhaps it's yet another tragic result of global warming (please note the timely Earth Day reference and be impressed).

There's probably a simple answer somewhere but it is eluding me at the moment.

And my colours are exhibiting a tendency to pool in a most unwholesome way. It would appear that I am going to be sporting a green splotch between my shoulder blades.

Apropos of nothing, I'm going to buy some new running shoes today.

A new UFO is born!

Excuse my pessimism. I've had a bad weekend. We'll assume for the moment that I will actually finish this thing before I shrivel up and die.



Here we have the Flowing River shawl from Goddess Knits in its embryonic state. It is knit starting at the bottom of the centre triangle. The edge stitches are then picked up to knit the wavy pattern and then the border. I am using the Cherry Tree Hill Merino Lace I bought 150 years ago -- or possibly last year, grumpiness makes me prone to hyperbole -- in the Dusk colorway. The pattern is somewhat obscured by the loud yarn but I'm enjoying myself and so shall turn a blind eye to the battle and carry on.

You might observe that I am a big fan of lifelines. The lower one marks the end of the first chart. The second one, not surprisingly, marks the end of the second chart. I have one more chart to go on the centre triangle.

I have also ordered yarn to knit two more shawls. Will complete this one first, I solemnly vow. I hear somebody, somewhere, snickering.

Let me tell you why I am in such a foul mood. Darling Daughter the Second, age 8, competed in a gymnastics meet yesterday. Her scores were so low I think they had to invent a whole new system of numeration to accommodate them. Perhaps they'll name it for her. And yet her shiny-happy, perpetually overcaffeinated coach was just thrilled to bits with her performance. Here I was trying to wallow in misery while Little Miss Perkypants was gleefully bouncing around squealing about what a fantabulous meet we'd had! Just ignore all those Spontaneous Gravitational Events (known as falls to you earthlings) and focus on all the spectacular hypergymnastical fabulousness we have just witnessed! Sorry, Perkypants, but as far as I'm concerned the SGEs (AKA wipeouts) and the resultant deductions sort of overshadow the moments of brilliance.

Not to mention that stormy days like this make me ache all over.

Harumph.

Depressing content. Reader discretion is advised.

It is Easter Sunday and I am sequestered in my bedroom trying to avoid a family visit that will elevate my blood pressure to dangerous levels. Nothing like a nice family holiday, is there?

I am casting on my first baby burial gown for charity. I think the politically correct term is something like "angel gown" but I am not feeling the least bit politically sensitive right now. Blame the family visit. Anyway, whatever you want to call it, I have very mixed feelings about the project. When I started knitting for charity I vowed never to knit for dead babies. I didn't want to think about them. I didn't want to acknowledge that somewhere there is a baby growing in some mommy's tummy who will have stopped growing by the time they wear this item. But the fact is, whether I knit this thing or not will not change the situation. Maybe my little contribution will make it a tiny bit easier for that poor mom. After all, I doubt that she thought to pick out a tiny burial gown while she was shopping for a playpen at Sears.

The pattern is simple but I'm having trouble making the stitch count work out on the very first row. I think I'll limit it to three tries before admitting that something is trying to tell me that I can't cope with this.