Soggy Kniting was indeed soggy, but we did persevere. All two of us, my friend who made the flyer, and I. The woman with the acrylic starter scarf the length of the New Jersey turnpike was a no show. I was so upset at the thought of that snake having one more day to thrive, to grow, to be enabled to wrap around someone's neck 50+ times, that we called her, dragged her out of her stupor in front of the t.v., and cast-off the garter snake. I convinced her that the next endless scarf should incorporate some purling. For a 1/2 hour, I attempted to show her how to purl . . . I am clearly a shitty teacher, which leads me to the drinking element of this post . . .
The flyer-maker brought a bottle of wine to the dry pool night -- so much for choosing a safe night like Monday. That one glass, one small glass, calmed me through first purling, did not impeded my own knitting (not that I did much of my own knitting), and did not in any way shape or form lead to anything irreparable. And, really, what in knitting is irreparable? Take my first drunken knitting project:
The Japanese Chulla. Why did I choose to cast this on at 3:00 a.m.? Good question. Maybe because I had bought the yarn, Noro Iro, that morning, and I was thinking about it all day (ok, thinking about a certain yarn all day I guess is a qualification for serious therapy), maybe because I didn't realize quite how buzzed I was, and -- maybe's -- they stack up, don't they when you're trying to rationalize? Notice the ear flaps - short rows. Then the cast on to the other flap. Mmm . . . good idea to do it drunk. I woke up the next morning to find that my ear flaps looked like lightening bolts, and my cast on to the other flap was a mobius. Good work! But, you know what? -- not irreparable. Rip, fix, all better.
And my drunken dialing? I wish as simple as rip, fix, all better. Rip, yes. Fix? Always more complicated. Stick to the Japanese chulla.