By 11:30 yesterday morning, I had devoured the following: three waffles, two cups of coffee, and one beer. You see, yesterday was my final Fair Isle class, the one in which I "gamely" picked up a pair of safety scissors and cut Beaner's sweater. The beauty of having a knit shop in the same set of stores as a bar is that you can easily get a beer to calm your nerves (and get change back from a single if you get a small Yuengling). Ironically, I had the beer after I cut the damn sweater, but it was more to balance out the coffee and take the edge off what I had just done.
Officially a cardigan - what I wanted
All in all, once you take the first leap of faith, steeking wasn't that bad. Don't get me wrong - I'm not on a pro-steeking, all steeking bandwagon, but when it comes up again (which it will since Betty has been eyeing the Mirepoix Bodice) I won' balk so hard at it. Part of the ease was having an awesome teacher - thank you, Linda! - who more than talked me through the process, even going so far as to bring in her own sewing machine to use on the final day AND taking pictures (with my old faulty point-and-shoot . . . that's why there aren't any photos of the steeking - damn camera). As an added bonus, Linda didn't mind my language during our time together - that's always nice. Tricia was teaching a Weekend Getaway Satchel class at the same time and did more than she'll ever know to calm me down as well. "When you really think about it, your stitches aren't going any place since that's not how knit stitches run," she said calmly. And you know, I never really thought about it like that before.
Now that the sweater is truly a cardigan, I'm in the process of picking up stitches on the second placket and from there, it's only a matter of stitching down the hem and the plackets and then sending it to Mom to install the zipper. We're not going to ruin this by having me put in the zipper. That would be unforgivable and truly turn it into a great big pile of shit, which is how I was referring to it on Tuesday night. Steeking was something that utterly and completely mystified me for the longest time. I mean, honestly, why would you knit all that only to cut it? It's counterintuitive at best. For about the first two years of my serious knitting, I shied away from anything that seemed challenging. Now? I'll think about it for a long while, but eventually I'll give in and at least try it out.
A pile of shit - what I thought I would get
After this weekend, I'm not sure which is more nerve-wracking for me: steeking or driving with the girls. I don't know how others have gotten through it, but I'm not a good person to sit shotgun while the driver is one who once resided inside me. I phantom break, I hit the dashboard, and I don't sound genuine with my praise. Sorry, girls, but I hate driving with everyone. They each drove a bit today, and I was much better in the passenger seat than in the rear seat like I was last night. That should never happen again - EVER. The Flyer is in Phoenix this week and was kind enough to take my car to the airport so that our lovely ladies could practice on his as it soon will, most likely, be theirs. I'll get better - I promise - just bear with me.
So, it's back to picking up those stitches because I really want to knit something for moi. This is the most monogamous I've been to one knit project in a long time. My poor trellis and leaf shawl is in desperate need of two borders and some blocking. I'd like to finish that before June so I can say it took less than a year. Fingers crossed for some quality knitting time real soon.
PS - Tricia, the only song title I could find with "pile of shit" in it was "A Fucking Big Pile of Shit" and I thought that was pushing the bounds a bit too much. This song is a nice little ditty by The Killers.