Once again I'm surprised at how little knitting I'm getting done, especially on the weekends. I really miss my "it's sweltering outside, lets sit on the couch" weekend knit-a-thons. :-( By last Friday night I had finished up the heel and was ready to start the leg of the Firestarter socks. After I knit about a cable repeat and a half I put the work on a set of circulars to see how it fit. I found it barely went over my heel. Phooey! I put it away in frustration, secretly hoping that I'd wake up on Saturday and find it magically fixed. Oh yes, I'm delusional. Too bad so sad-for me. The twisted stitches and the density of the yarn have conspired to make a fairly non-pliable sock. If I want to give these away I was going to have to frog. I hate going back the way I came in any endeavor, be it walking in the woods, going back into the house when I forget something on my way to work, or even knitting. I have a built-in, deeply ingrained impulse to go forward...
"the little bit (two inches wide) of ivory on which I work with so fine a brush, as to produce little effect after much labour" - Jane Austen