Dear Designer of Cardigan,
Last night I said some things. I said some hurtful things. About you and about your ability to design. I made fun of your ability to produce a proper gauge. I laughed at your expense. I was upset, you see. Upset because I couldn’t get the same gauge as you. I tried three different needle sizes. I made substantial sized swatches with each. I cursed you because after all that, I still couldn’t get the right gauge.
Your gauge: 26 sts and 37 rows = 4 inches on US4 needles with sport weight yarn.
I picked out some DK weight (which is only slightly heavier than sport weight) and grabbed my size 5’s because I was nervous about creating too dense of a fabric (since I’m a tight knitter). I had 26 sts = 4.75 inches. So I did the next logical thing: moved up a needle size… three times. “Why is my swatch getting bigger?! How are you getting your gauge?!” I cursed and screamed to the heavens and shook my fist violently in the direction that I assumed you were located. Then I realized, that’s not right. Turns out, I’m the idiot. Want more stitches per inch? Go down a needle size.
So you see, that was my bad. And I’m sorry I got mad at you for my own stupidity. Turns out, I’m not so good at math and logical reasoning when I’ve been drinking.
I humbly apologize and take back everything I said. You’re a great designer and I love this cardigan. You’re right and I’m wrong. Let’s hang out sometime and I’ll buy you a drink.
My mind is a scary place to be. If I weren’t me, I wouldn’t want to be. Contrariwise, since I am me, I spend most of my day freaking out. And because you aren’t me (even though I know you totally want to be), I’m letting you in on what’s been on my mind this last week (because I can tell you’re dying to know).
First to bat: why do Amy’s Cheddar Bunnies taste like band aids? And why did I spend money on something that made me think of licking dirty band aids while I was eating it? Does anyone else get this exquisite taste while eating their organic cheese friends? I think the most disturbing thing about this is that despite the taste, I ate it all.
Supposedly I’m dehydrated. I try to remind myself to drink water, but I forget. This is probably why I get dizzy when I work out with Jillian Michaels. Damn, that B is scary. She should put out a video that shows her just sitting in a chair drinking water and yelling at the camera. I would totally start drinking water then.
How many days until Christmas? Four?!? I should probably give up sleeping and start knitting instead, because these xmas gifts aren’t going to knit themselves. I can’t go into details about my current projects, but here’s a sneak peak into what I’m knitting:
I really wanted to see Black Swan this week, but I can’t knit in the dark. Is there such thing as glow-in-the-dark yarn? If not, I need to get on it. I also need to go to the gym, but I wonder if people will look at me funny if I start knitting on the exercise bike. I think knitting and cycling would go perfectly together. What could go wrong?
Yarn Over »
Knitting, talking about, and taking pictures of Frost Flowers is unappealing to me. So let’s talk about pie instead. I like pie. Apple pie is my all time favorite. My mom used to know this lady that made awesome apple pie. I think her name was Sara something.
Well, it’s time I learn how to do this, right? I think everyone needs pie baking skills under their belt. You know, just in case you find yourself trapped in a room full of apples and flour. The exit’s at the other end but you can’t get there because you keep tripping all over these damn apples and plus you can’t see through all that flour dust. What do you do? Make apple pie, duuuh. Of course there’s an oven in the room. This wouldn’t be a twisted fantasy of mine if there weren’t. I can tell you’re looking at me with those judgy eyes. Let’s just agree that making apple pie is good for you….in a kind of “it’s ok if you eat the whole pie and gain 10 lbs, as long as you’re happy and living an apple pie life” good for you. Are you with me? Excellent.
I’m taking notes from Joy the Baker. I stalk her blog, because I keep thinking that one day we will be friends. It’s completely healthy. I’m not a creeper. Pinky swear.
Yarn Over »