Something New!

No, I'm not marrying a white man. But, oh man! I've been wanting to blog so much lately. I've been so inspired when cruising through the blogs of my fellow needle crafters. Only thing is, if I don't knit/crochet, there will be nothing to blog about.

I promised myself that after my last project I would learn something new.

Here's my failed attempt at learning lace. I think that if I can do this shawl, I can really call myself a knitter.


I stuck with it, and started a successful swatch at the LYS. I really didn't need them, it was just the moral support that made my 30th try a success. No really, about 5 minutes after I sat down, I realized that I had read the instructions for one of the stitches incorrectly. After this realization, everything went smoothly. Well, if you don't consider the conversation that was forced on me by this hired home-schooler. She thought it important that I not be too graphic when discussing the birds and the bees with my son. She's researched just how damaging this could be. This was only after her teenage son became a teenage parent. I didn't think it at all necessary to tell her that I myself have 2 BD's. I mean, did I want the conversation to go any further?


The swatches are done in sizes 2, 4, and 6. I think I'll do my shawl in the 6, even though the knitting is harder to handle (for lack of a better term). I think the results will end in a lacier finish. The pattern called for some thread like stuff, but this is the laciest that knit pick gets. It'll do.

I also called myself learning how to spin with a drop spindle. I'm not gonna rush this. but I do want to learn.

Both of these failures caused me to cry out for stockinette therapy. I started this Long Line Jacket from Louisa Harding's Modern Classics. Ahhhh.

And finally, it is with great regret that I must inform you all that the toddler locs were unraveled. The sand was just getting to be too much. After washing it 3 times, when retwisting, grains of sand were still coming out onto my fingers. Yuck! I couldn't stand the thought of knowing that stuff was still in there. The sand was down to the core and would not be moved. Even after combing all her locs out, and washing twice more, she still went to school the next day with sand levitating at the tips of every puff ball. We will try again, but when?