November 1st, 2010 | Comments Off

Four months ago, I decided to give flap heels a try.  From the get go, I knew I wasn’t going to like the resulting socks – a good part of the reason I decided to try the flap heel on this pair is because I already didn’t like the yarn, so if the heel turned out badly, I wouldn’t mind too much.  And yet, somehow, the reality is worse than I could have imagined.  I now know, without any shadow of a doubt, that I will not ever knit another flap heel.

Why?

Because the damn thing tickles!

I’ve always had super sensitive feet.  I resisted making socks for years because when I tried my first pair (on size 2US/2.75-3mm needles) the purl bumps hurt my feet when I walked on them.  It wasn’t until I tried again on size 0US/2mm needles years later that I finally figured out what all the sock fever was about in the knitting community.  Even on the small needles I’m using, though, I still avoid cotton yarns most of the time due to their stiffness and the way the stitches hold their definition against my feet.

But flap heels!  They have ridges!  On the inside of the foot!  And OH MY GOD DOES IT TICKLE.  I can’t imagine willingly wearing these socks anywhere or for any period of time.

Not, mind you, that I would have anyway – the colors are likewise atrocious.

Luckily, taste being what it is and variable between people, one of my coworkers actually likes the colorway for these socks and her feet are the same size as mine.  It’s win-win: I get the damn things out of my house, and she actually wants to have them for her very own!

As for the yarn – this was another Deborah Norville yarn, and while it didn’t have the ridiculous number of cut ends as the first pair, it still wasn’t entirely enjoyable to knit with – it’s kind of rough on my hands (surprising when the first pair were so soft) and kind of splitty, and frankly it feels cheap (no surprise, given that it was ridiculous cheap when I bought it – we’re talking $5/pair of socks cheap).

So it looks like Deborah still gets one more chance with the last colorway of hers I have in my stash (eventually – I want a break with some nice Tofutsies before I go back to Deborah) before I pass final judgment on her entire yarn line.

As for the flap heel – no more chances.  One pair of tickle-y socks is enough.

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July 22nd, 2010 | 2 Comments »

This last weekend, for the first time in my life, I had the overwhelming urge to knit a flap heel.  On every other sock I’ve ever knitted, I’ve done an 
Auto Heel - it was the first heel I ever learned how to do, and it’s the only heel I’ve done since.

And yet, when I got to the point that I was ready to add a heel onto the go-everywhere socks I’m knitting, my first instict was: “I should use this pair of socks to try out a flap heel.”

Flap heel socks far

I think it’s because I’m finding that I actually really don’t like these socks.  Mostly it’s the colors – and what’s driving me nuts, of all things, is the green.  Those who know me will blink a bit when they read that, because green is by far my favorite color, and yet when used in this sock, I hate it. I think it has too much brown mixed in or something.

Poor flap heel – given that I’m predisposed to not liking these socks already, the chances the experience of the heel will convert me away from the Auto Heel are small.

Flap heel closeup

Then again, when you’ve already learned the best way for you to do something, why change?

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April 19th, 2010 | 1 Comment »

…Monkey Kitty will find it.

It’s like he has a sixth sense about where to find knitting and related supplies, and I swear he must have some kind of extreme instinctual imperative telling him to “Destroy!  Maim!  Kill!  Bitebitebite!”  I’d say he could smell the animals that were involved in making the yarn (see exhibits A and B) except that he also seeks and destroys polyester (exhibit C).  I haven’t given him the opportunity to get at any cotton yarn (yet, although the wedding blanket will be 100% cotton), but something tells me he’d be an equal opportunity yarn attacker.

A few weeks ago, I started another pair of go-everywhere-while-doing-anything socks.  This is what they looked like right after casting on.

(Also, I’d just like to point out that I’m giving Deborah Norville another try here.  I’ve got yet another set of a different colorway in my stash as well, so here’s hoping this one works out better than the last…)

Apparently, I forgot to put the knitting away properly (it was in a bag, but not out of Monkey Kitty’s reach).  In the morning, this is what I found:

A close up of the yarn under Monkey Kitty’s feet:

Notice that both balls of yarn are on this floor of the house, near the table (one is actually wound quite effectively over, under, and around several chairs as well).  That doesn’t really explain why there’s yarn going here:

Or why my knitting is here (almost hidden by the jacket):

Or why the yarn got wound around the stair posts at the top of the stairs before winding its way back down:

And yet, even then, all that was recoverable.  Sure, I had a lot of yarn wound around the outside of the balls, which was annoying, but overall the damage was actually rather superficial.

Then Monkey Kitty upped the stakes.

I had this pair of socks in a bag in my purse, which I apparently didn’t zip closed last night.  Quietly, sneakily, Monkey Kitty took the knitting out of my bag and hid it (note: he didn’t pull the yarn out of the bag until after we left for work, thus having all day to play with it).

On the way home, the Blanket Thief and I were talking about how my purse was much lighter than it normally was, and since neither of us could remember taking anything out of it, we were pretty sure who the culprit was and what we’d find when we came home.

At first glance, it might not look like there’s even anything wrong here – there’s barely any extra yarn pulled out at all.  But this time Monkey Kitty took a more subtle approach to his knitting destruction:

That’s the current state of the once-neat balls of yarn.  Somehow they both still seem to work as center pull balls, although the yarn now comes out the side of the ball instead of the top, but they’re about twice as big as they used to be and seriously more disordered.  And even then, I would just shrug it off and keep going, except…

Monkey Kitty took out the cable on the needle too.  I think we can conclude only one thing from this: Monkey Kitty has declared War on Knitting.  In between bouts with the scratching post, that is.

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April 15th, 2010 | Comments Off

You know that feeling you get, when you’re really, really close to finishing a project, how you feel like you can’t put it down until it’s done?

Yeah, I’m there.  I don’t think I’ll get much done tonight, but I expect to have a pair of socks before I fall asleep.

Also, the hourglass pattern on Knitty?  Totally just flies by.  I swear, I feel like I just started these socks yesterday.  Although, like all patterns I knit from, there are plenty of modifications I made to the original.  When I post about the finished pair, I’ll do my best to call out the differences in case anyone wants to go down the crazy path I’m on instead of the well established original.

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February 18th, 2010 | Comments Off

I’ve heard that the Amish have a tradition in the amazing quilts they make, that there’s always at least one small mistake in those intricate pieced compositions, because only God can be perfect or make perfect things.  Now, given that they’re introducing these flaws on purpose, that always seemed a bit egotistical to me (kind of a “well, I could be perfect if I wanted to, but I think I’ll let God have the glory this time”), but at the same time, I kind of thought it was a neat tradition.

Then I found this:

If you can’t see it (the picture isn’t as clear as I’d like) that’s a lone purl stitch in what is supposed to be a column of knit stitches in 2×1 ribbing.  I generally do 2×2 or 1×1, so the 2×1 was giving me a bit of trouble, but I didn’t realize I’d messed it up until I was a few inches past that point.  And the pattern doesn’t really lend itself to surgery, given the “p3 tog” all over the place.

If that were the only problem with this sock, I think I would have embraced the Amish tradition and just went with it, all the while smirking about how I could fix it if I really wanted to, but…

…well, that’s not how it went down.

It all started when I got it in my head that I wanted to knit my next pair of socks with Tofutsies.

I picked a stitch pattern, and swatched to determine how many stitches to cast on.

This was the first place I thought “er, maybe this won’t work out”.  See how the picture is really pretty and elegant, and the swatch just…isnt?  That’s largely due to the fact that the knitting in the picture is severely blocked, and since my socks will, er, likely never be blocked in their lifetimes, that should have given me a clue.

Still, I thought maybe being stretched around my foot would kind of act like a pseudo blocking, so I figured out how many stitches I needed to get around my foot and stretch to get over my ankle, and I did some math to come up with cuff ribbing that would flow into the pattern, and I was off.

At this point, I probably should have noticed that things weren’t coming out like I wanted, that instead of being elegant and graceful this was just…bumpy.  And angular.  And not what I wanted at all.

I should have noticed…but I’m stubborn, so I kept going.  I thought to myself, “Well, that’s just the first few rows in pattern – after a few more, it’ll even out and look okay.”

It wasn’t until I was two and half times through the pattern (42 rows + 12 rows of cuff), that I tried it on again.  And, well, it wasn’t really getting more elegant.

Plus, around the same time, I discovered that purl stitch.  And in light of everything else about this sock, it seems like it’s just foolish to keep going.  It’s off to the frog pond for this one.

Because, you know, I’m not Amish.

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February 14th, 2010 | Comments Off

Remember when I cast on those socks with the Deborah Norville yarn?

Yeah, me either.  Apparently, it was in November.  Since then, that pair have been my go-everywhere, knit-anytime socks, which I finally finished last week.

This was my first time using Deborah Norville yarn, and…well, I’m not impressed.  The colors are okay, and it’s rather soft, but that’s about all I can say for it.  It’s really loosely spun, making it very splity.  I’m also pretty sure that this will be my first pair of hand knit socks to develop holes, given that the finished fabric feels about as durable as paper.

I could forgive all that, though – given that I got enough yarn for a pair of socks for five bucks, and given that my drawers really don’t need the addition of another pair of socks, I’d be willing to live with a pair that would wear out relatively quickly.  I could even practice my darning skills (or, you know, embrace the more traditional “Darn it!” while tossing them in the trash).

What I will not forgive, though, is this:

Between the two balls of yarn, there was not one, not two, but three places where the yarn was cut and then tied.  That’s six extra ends to weave in (even that I could forgive), but that also means that the color repeat was interrupted in random places and the socks don’t match (starting on the instep just after the heel).  Just look at the toes!

I’ve never subscribed to this idea of purposefully mismatched socks.  In my head, socks are a pair, and they are by definition (again, in my head) supposed to be identical.  I even scrapped quite a bit of perfectly good yarn just to ensure that I was starting at the same point in the color repeat on each sock.

Now, I’m willing to give Deborah another shot.  Given that her yarn was $5/pair at the store, I didn’t exactly stop at this colorway.  If I recall correctly, I actually have two other colorways of this yarn in my stash.  So here’s the deal, Deborah: eventually, I’ll get around to knitting socks out of those other colorways.  If either one of them shows the same behavior of random ends as this pair…well, I simply don’t have time for that kind of frustration in my life.  Sorry, my dear, but I don’t deserve that, and although your yarn is certainly the cheapest I’ve found so far, I’m also willing to spend a few extra bucks to avoid the random ends

Then again, maybe this pair were a fluke.  I’m willing to believe that.  But I’ll need the proof of both other pairs coming out just fine before I’m willing to bet any money on it.

On the other hand, I did get a full pair of socks for $5.  That’s really not a bad deal.

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January 18th, 2010 | 2 Comments »

I have a confession to make – I’ve only ever done one kind of sock heel.  Ever.  For my first sock, I found a book, picked a heel, and never looked back.  Dozens of socks later, I’m still doing the same thing.  I’ve even been known to scoff at other kinds of heels – I’ve never tried them, but since I don’t like the look of them, I don’t see a point in doing so.  (Note, I’m open to suggestion and reasoning as to why other heels might be better, I’ve just never found enough reason in my experience to change things.)

So where did I find this awesome sock heel?  It was in the Complete Guide to Modern Knitting and Crocheting by Alice Carroll, published in 1949.  (Amazon doesn’t seem to have any copies, although they do have some second-hand copies of another book she wrote.) There’s a section on sock construction, and she examines three different heel types: French, German, and Auto.  The French and German heels are both flap heels, but the Auto heel is similar to what knitters call a short-row heel.

The biggest difference between the modern short-row heel and an Auto heel is that the latter generates extra stitches which are decreased with a gusset, whereas a short-row heel doesn’t have a gusset.  That’s probably one of the biggest downsides of short-row heels, because human feet fit better when there’s a bit of extra room at the top of the instep.

Anyway, all of that was introduction to say that, since the modern world seems to have lost the Auto heel from the Complete Guide to Modern Knitting and Crocheting, I’m going to bring it back.  Hopefully I’ll manage to convert one or two of you to the way of the Auto heel – or maybe you’ll be able to convert me away from it, and it will fade quietly into obscurity.

Alice’s instructions on this heel comprise a few paragraphs:

This is a less popular method of turning a heel of a sock or stocking.  The heel itself is shallower than in either the French or Dutch methods, but the shaping makes a nicely rounded heel.

Arrange the sts. as for the Dutch and French heels, half the sts. for the heel and half for the instep.  The wool should come at right-hand end of heel sts.  All first sts. are slipped.  P the heel sts.  Now work in stockinette st., knitting 1 st. less in every row, until 9 sts. [G.Knerd note: in practice I use one-third of the heel stitches as my stopping point] are left unknitted on each side of small knitted group in center.  The last row should be a P row.  Turn, and K back along center sts. just purled.  Pick up strand between last st. just knitted and first unknitted st.  Place it on left-hand needle, and K this loop with first unknitted st.  Turn, and repeat this process on P row, purling the loop and the unknitted st. at end of row.

Continue in this manner until all sts. are knitted again.

If that made enough sense to you that you’re ready to go off and do your own Auto heel, great.  You probably don’t need to read the rest of this post.  Personally, it took me a while to parse out what she meant, and I’d like to save you that step by walking you through each stage and providing some pictures.

Caveat: to be fair, I don’t exactly follow Alice’s directions either – there are a couple places we disagree as to whether you stop on a knit or a purl row, as well as how many stitches you should be using.  You can either follow her directions, or you can follow my modified directions, but you probably shouldn’t mix them together or you might not end up where you think you should be.

For my demonstration, I took some kitchen cotton and cast on 48 stitches, then knit 10 rows of k1tbl p1 ribbing (because I think it looks cool, and I needed a bit of a cuff to make the heel look right).   You can cast on however many stitches and do whatever kind of cuff you like – when you’re ready to do the heel, just separate half the stitches for the heel and leave the other half either on other needles or on waste yarn.

The first step is to knit all the way across your heel stitches (in this case, 24 sts):

Turn the sock, slip the first stitch with yarn in front as if to purl.  You’ll do this for every purl row on the heel:

Purl until the second-to-last stitch (in this example, this row was s1 purl-wise, k22).  On every row, you’ll knit or purl one less “center” stitch than you did the row before):

Turn the sock, and slip the first stitch with yarn in back as if to knit.  You’ll do this for every knit row of the heel:

Again, you’ll knit to the second-to-last stitch (for that row, slip 1, knit 21) and turn.  You’ll continue the pattern of purling a row and knitting a row, subtracting a stitch from the center on each row, until you have a third of the stitches left in the center (and, thus, a third on either side as slipped stitches as well).  For example, the next few rows on the example would be:

S1 as if to purl, p20, turn.

S1 as if to knit, k19, turn.

S1 as if to purl, p18, turn.

S1 as if to knit, k17, turn.

And so on, until you reach the point that the center stitches equals one-third of the heel stitches.  In the example, I stopped when I had 8 stitches (including the slip 1) in the center.  You want to finish this part of the heel on a knit row (in the example, it was s1 as if to knit, k7).  At this point, you should have a pretty triangular shape (shown here on the purl side):

You’ll continue slipping the first stitch of every row as before.  Turn so the purl side is facing you, slip 1, and purl across the center stitches – all the way to the last center stitch.  At this point, you’ll have something that looks something like this:

You’ll want to pick up and purl this loop:

Here it is picked up:

And after purling that loop, also purl the first slipped stitch off the left needle.  At this point, you have 1 more stitch in the heel then you started with, and you’ve added 2 stitches to the “center” stitches.  Turn the heel, slip the first stitch, and knit across the center stitches to the end of the center stitches:

You’ll be picking up two loops here, then knitting them together.  This is the first loop:

And the second:

Note: for both loops, you come in from the back when you’re on the knit side of the heel – it’s kind of a scooping motion from the back to pick them up.  When you have both of them on the needle, it should look something like this:

The two picked up loops should be knit together through the back loop – insert the right needle through both as if to purl (but with yarn in back), wrap the yarn and pull through the stitch:

After that, you’ll again knit the first slipped stitch off the left needle, again adding 1 stitch to your overall heel stitch count and 2 stitches to the “center” stitches.  Turn, and purl to the end of the center stitches.  At this point (and for all heel rows going forward) you’ll pick up 2 loops instead of 1.  (Technically, you can do whatever you want, but I find it makes a cleaner join if you pick up the two instead of just one and then knit or purl them together.)  Here’s what it would look like on the purl side before picking up anything, with the first loop pointed out:

And this is after the first loop has been picked up, with the second loop pointed out:

Both loops picked up:

You’ll purl these two loops together, and again purl the first slipped stitch off the left needle:

Those pickups are the hardest part of this heel, so I’ll run through them again on another row.  On the knit side before picking up any loops, with the first loop pointed out:

After picking up the first loop, with the second loop pointed out:

With both loops on the needle:

Knitting both loops together through the back loop:

Again, you’d also knit the first slipped stitch off the left needle, turn, and purl all the way across the center stitches.  On the purl side, before picking up any loops:

Picking up the first loop:

Picking up the second loop:

Purling both loops together:

And, once more, don’t forget to purl the first slipped stitch on the left needle.  It may seem that I’m beating a dead horse reminding you of it, but there’s been more than one time that I’ve been working a heel and ended up in a bad place because I forgot one of the slipped stitches.  There’s nothing worse than getting all the way through a heel before realizing that you made a mistake on the third row after the turn and you have to unravel the whole thing.  (Okay, actually, there’s plenty worse, as recent world events will hopefully remind you.  I’m lucky enough that this particular revelation would be one of the worst things to happen to me in any given day.)

Continue back and forth in this manner, picking up two loops to create a new stitch at the side of the center stitches on each row, until you run out of heel stitches.  If you’ve done things right, you should finish on a knit row – the last stitch would be the last slipped knit stitch, and you should have no other slipped stitches on the other side of the heel.  You should have almost double your original heel stitches on the heel needle(s) – technically, it should be one and two-thirds times your original stitches, but I never count.  You’ll know if it looks like a heel:

At this point, the only thing left is to remember to do a gusset as you do the top of the instep.  For the first row, you’ll knit across the instep (non-heel) stitches (in pattern if you’re doing something patterned), then knit all the heel stitches as well.  From this point forward, you’ll always be knitting around the entire sock (unless you’re doing a special toe or you have a really weird pattern for your sock that somehow makes you go back and forth in the instep).  When you get to the heel on the next round, ssk the first two stitches of the heel, knit across to the last 2 stitches of the heel, and k2tog.  Repeat that row every time you knit the heel stitches until you’ve decreased to the original heel stitch count, then just knit the heel stitches without the decreases.  Your gusset will look something like this (the triangle in the ankle area of the “sock”):

And that’s it!  I’ve found it very easy to substitute this heel for any sock pattern I’ve tried, so feel free to try it on your own favorite pattern.  Let me know how it goes!

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December 9th, 2009 | Comments Off

For Thanksgiving weekend, we (the Blanket Thief and I) went up to visit my parents.  I packed at the last minute (er…like always), which meant that I had to be a bit quick about which knitting projects to bring.  Of course, there were the in-progress-go-anywhere socks that were already in my purse, but then I couldn’t think of what else to bring.

At some point, I should do a round up of my WIP – that would be a good reminder for me to actually finish some of them.  But that’s a different post (or several) for a different day.

The most likely candidate for me to bring that weekend was the cARGHdigan, but I didn’t really want to package all of that up for the trip.  I could have taken any one of the dozens of sock yarns I have, but…er…that would have required me to pick one, and that didn’t sound like a quick idea at the time.

When we were already at least twenty minutes late, I decided to not decide, which meant that all I ended up taking was the in-progress socks and a shawl I wanted to block.  At the time, I kind of patted myself on the back, thinking that I had made it out of the trap that most knitters fall into when they take an extra bag for the weekend to hold all of their projects/yarn (none of which they have time to touch).  I was more evolved.  I was realistic – it wasn’t like I was going to actually finish those socks.

They have a word for that feeling I was having – they call it “hubris”, and the Knitting Fates find it particularly fun to punish.

Apparently, I knit socks faster than I thought I did – I started the weekend at the red line, was at the orange line by the end of Thursday, and I was done with the pair before Friday night, with no other projects, no new yarn, nothing else to keep my hands busy for the next 48 hours.

P1010101

I don’t think I’ll ever travel without an extra suitcase again.

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December 7th, 2009 | 1 Comment »

I have a habit of persevering even when I know a knitting project isn’t working.  Over the years, I’ve tried to break the habit, but…every now and then, something slips past me, and by the time I realize I should quit I’m already committed.

So…a couple months ago, I got it into my head that I would recreate these socks:

P1010158

(Sorry for the stray cat hair in the picture – I blame Monkey Kitty)

And a better texture shot:

P1010166

When I made these a couple years ago, I was so excited – I thought the pattern was beautiful, the yarn (Trekking XXL in some lost colorway) was exquisite, and I was ready to write it up as a pattern for Knitty.

Then, a month later, Knitty came out, and it had this pattern in it.  I was crushed.  They weren’t the same as my socks, but they were close enough that it wouldn’t make sense for the Knitty editors to take my pattern after publishing that one.  I gave up on the pattern idea and went back to knitting random other sock patterns.

But when I found myself between socks a couple months ago, the idea came back that I could write up the pattern, and even if Knitty wouldn’t take it, maybe someone else would.  Or maybe I’d just post it on Ravelry myself.

So…I cast on with the ball of yarn I had with me (I was visiting the Blanket Thief’s family at the time), and got this far:

phone 181

It…wasn’t exactly working.  The stripes in the yarn were just too discrete, and they were hiding the pattern I actually wanted to display.  Plus, I’d used a 2×2 rib for the cuff instead of a 1×1 (with the k sts twisted), so it was off to the frog pond for that attempt.

The next attempt was started at home, so I had access to all of my sock yarn.  Why I chose this particular yarn, I’m not sure – I think it had something to do with the fact that the color changes were so quick (around 5 inches on average), so I thought it would come out in a nice mottled look.

Yeah, sometimes I think I’m on crack too.

I somehow managed to not take a picture of the yarn before knitting, so I’ll just show you the final project.

P1010101

Yarn: Lana Grossa Meilenweit Fun in the 139 colorway, Pattern: My own Chinese lanterns adaptation

Yeah.  Totally didn’t work right.  The colors are way, way, way too busy for this pattern, way too complicated, way too bright.  You really can’t see the pattern at all, actually.  I think I would have been better off going with the first yarn instead, despite the striping.

Maybe next time I’ll figure it out before I’m well into the second sock.  I would have been willing to frog it and started over with different yarn if I hadn’t already finished the first one…

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November 30th, 2009 | 1 Comment »

Last night, I found myself facing a new week without a single pair of socks on the needles.  Of course, I couldn’t let that happen, so I immediately brought out my sock yarn stash (it has its own box) and my trusty A Treasury of Knitting Patterns by Barbara Walker, and started the process.

First, I picked out the possible contenders for the pair of socks I had in my mind:

P1010104

Then I narrowed it down further to the two I liked best at the time:

P1010105

And then I decided that since I’ve already proven that I like socks made out of Tofutsies (also, since when does Amazon* carry yarn?), I didn’t want to try mixing a brand-new, experimental pattern with a yarn I’ve never tried, and the Tofutsies won:

P1010106

(Also?  That’s some pretty sweet end-finding on that skein there.  See that?  I think it’s less than 6 feet/2 meters.)

Of course, after swatching the Frost Flowers pattern for a full repeat, all I knew was that Frost Flowers + socks was not going to happen, at least not this time:

P1010116

It’s pretty, sure, but it’s alternately either not stretchy enough or way too stretchy – not sure how it manages to pull that off, but that’s how it is.

With only minutes before bedtime, and still no viable socks on the needles, I decided to go for a more simple, reliable yarn/pattern combo:

P1010107

Self-patterning sock yarn (Deborah Norville Sock Yarn in the Thyme colorway, to be precise).  Pattern will be my own generic 72-stitch 2×2 rib sock (fits almost any width foot, although these – like almost all the socks I knit – are for me).

With only seconds left in the evening, I found an identical point in the skeins and cast on a couple rows.  In my haste, however, I may have overlooked several other identical points – this is the yarn I wound off before starting, from each of the skeins:

P1010110

Notice any similarities?  Like maybe how I totally could have started right after the green instead of winding all the way through the speckled parts and the orange parts?

I’d say maybe I’d learned for next time, but we all know that’s not true – I bet I totally do the same thing next time too.

*I totally recommend buying your yarn/supplies from your Local Yarn Shop so you can support your local economy, but since I can’t link to every LYS near you (well, the JavaScript involved would not be fun to write…), Amazon seemed like a decent substitute.

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