Thursday, March 09, 2006

Damn Damn Damn Damn Damn

Last night I was knitting merrily, confidently away on my Simply Lovely socks when the phone rang. It was Dave calling to relate his day's adventures in Pasadena. I'd left my sock on the couch and when I came back to it, started knitting again and someone knocked on the front door. It was Jared (home on his university spring break) - Graham's best friend, stopping by to say hi and to pick up some items Graham needed at school, as Jared is/was supposed to go visit him for the next few days. We chit-chatted, packed up the goodies for Graham, looked at my current knitting projects and checked the pass reports. (not looking good right now, west bound traffic stopped at MP 61. Can you even see the freeway in this pic??) Sat back down, knitted a few stitches and then noticed that Graham had sent an email. Read it, answered it and sat back down. When I picked up my Simply Lovely I noticed I had an entire needles worth that did have the latest row of the lace part of the pattern. Four rows back. No problem I thought, I'll just reverse knit it...

Ya, well I reversed it all right. Into the biggest darn mess. Damn Damn Damn Damn Damn. Guess I have to go grovel to Judie or someone that can help me dig out of this hole. I do not want to start over.

Lessons Learned:
1) Don't get so cocky and over confident when it is your (I am addressing myself here) first lace knitting advetnture.
2) Do actually look at where you are in your pattern if you come back after being interupted. Three times.
3) Don't get interupted.
4) (And I blame this one) Don't get all comfy at home, open the refridge and decide that you just can't bare to eat leftovers again and decide to pick up an order of Cheeseburger and Fries at the local tav. Then don't just because the tav was basically empty (because of the Washington State Smoking Ban- YES!!!!), decide to grab a magazine out of the truck and have dinner sitting at the bar. Then don't stop yourself when your brain says order a club soda with lime and your mouth says I'll have a Heffie please. And these aren't dainty little 12oz Heffies, they are a pint. Then don't finish the Heffie just because it is sitting in front of you while you swap childhood adventures in Seattle with Brad the Bartender. I usually can't finish a whole beer and pass 4-6 oz to Dave when we eat there.

So what was I thinking?

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