I did them. I did them all. After much wailing and gnashing of teeth (by me and my many knitting instructors), I learned to purl and yarn over. One of our local knitters just seems to understand how my brain works and got me on the right track. DP swears that I changed how I knit between two weeks ago and now, but I guarantee I did not. And now I've moved into actual, real-life stitches. Go me!
Of course, I wouldn't be me if there wasn't some weirdness in my knitting. This particular project is size 17 needles with this serious thick and thin. By that I mean it goes from barely spun centimeter+ wide yarn down to fingering weight. So you can imagine that with my loosy-goosy-gauge-be-damned style and the eccentricities of the yarn, this thing looks weird. Like no-two-stitches alike weird. Like designer top model runway hairdo weird. Like I'll be damned if I can find where the purls and yarnovers are, because it all looks funky. This will be heavily blocked. I figure I can wrangle it into something that looks like a scarf, instead of hours of yarn barf. And I figure that it's a one of a kind designer hand-knit scarf. Or I'll file it under Ugh! and give everyone a good laugh.
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The continuing tales of a guy and his yarn. And loom. And stash. And knitting needles. And Chibis. And books. And friends. And dogs. And a hedgehog named Steve.
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