In the world of knitting there is an all too familiar verb used for tearing out stitch upon stitch of looped yarn when a mistake occurs. That word is frogging. When knitting, if you discover a mistake after many rows, there is no way to go in and just fix that one stitch for it all to become right. You must tear out (frog) until you come to that row, erasing all those hours of work. Just like that.
Well I will be honest. I am normally not that kind of knitter. I usually stake claim in the hopes that imperfection makes it beautiful! Or I tell myself, surely I would not want this to be one of those projects that goes on and on forever, why not just accept the little mistake now and move on!
Attempting a lace project was no less scary than beginning a first sweater or a tiny pair of socks. I just cast right on and despite distractions, glasses of wine, interesting conversations and the like, I kept on knitting. But through and through I managed to find myself not one or two stitches off, but a whopping twelve! When I increased the twelve over the next few rows to bring me back to the original 96 I cast on, the curve of the stole grew to such massive turn it began to form a lump. A giant unattractive lump.
Taking into account the cost of the yarn, the time still needed to finish this enormous 80 inch piece, and most importantly the recipient of it, I decided to do the unimaginable. You see when weighing the pros and cons of doing such an act I couldn’t help but envision the moment of truth. I saw my mama unwrapping the gift of the giant stole, in a foamy sea green of impossibly soft merino and bamboo. I pictured her flipping it over her shoulder and I so wanted to be proud of all the work I did. I wanted her to look and feel simply fantastic in this accessory.
But, unless I erased the work I had done over the last month, I knew such a vision would not occur. So I did it. And to my surprise, it was much less painful than I imagined! I felt no remorse. I felt nothing really.
Oh and it turned out to be a blessing in disguise for when reading the size of my needles it appears I had ahem… read them upside down and what I thought was a dainty little six was a chunky nine in disguise. So you see, it never would have worked out anyways had I not decided to frog it up.
I do hope that my mama’s will look this glorious when it is all said and done.