Frogging -- it's good for you.

Really, it is. 

I'm trying to completely believe this after my latest test knit involved no less than 4 (or was it 5?) froggings.  I wanted to bury them somewhere and pretend that I had never started them.  But you know what? I'm glad I finally got them done. 

I am the first to admit that in my own projects, if it isn't some glaring error that is going to stare at me every time I look at the finished object, I will let it go instead of ripping back.  It always seems so much easier to just keep going.  Let's face it, though, those can come back to bite you sometimes. 

So you should have started the decreases a couple of inches back, no problem, it'll work out fine. Or the armpits of your sweater will be hanging down around your chest and you will have to rip back a lot more than you would have if you had rectified the situation sooner.

You missed that tiny line in the pattern that read 'At the same time'? Knit on. So the neckline that was supposed to be just below the collarbone, it'll look just as good on your throat, right? I think many a knitter has cursed the 'at the same time' line.  I pledge to make sure that any pattern I write draws attention clearly to this line, I know I always appreciate when it is bolded or in caps to yell - HEY, you!  Yes, you!  Look at me or you will be soooooo sorry!

I hate the idea of ripping stuff out, but really, the decision to do it is the hardest part.  After that, it's not bad.  Unless you totally screw up getting it back on the needles.  Not that I have ever done that.  Or figured out my new system for avoiding that problem: Rip out one less row than you need to, then undo that last row one stitch at a time as you put your work back on the needles.  Yes, I am sure I am not the first one to figure that out and I could have saved myself hours of cursing by perusing Ravelry for tips, but it was quite the Aha! moment for me.  Sad, yes, but true.

My Hail Mary Paid Off!

I got a response to my design submission a couple weeks ago. It thanked me for submitting, which had to be was the first sentence of a 'thanks, but no thanks' rejection.

But it wasn't.  The next sentence told me my design had been selected.  I almost fell off of my chair.  When I thought I had regained the power of speech, I wanted to tell someone, but my 4 year old wasn't interested and my husband was trying to get the baby to surrender to his nap, so I just sat there in shock.  I'm not 100% sure that I'm still not in shock.

So here's the thing: now I have to WRITE A PATTERN!  One that will produce a product that resembles the design that was accepted. In 4 sizes. Sizes that should fit actual human children, be proportional and everything.  That's not overwhelming at all.  No siree bob, it's a piece of cake for someone who has never written a pattern for anything before. 

Part of me is freaking out about not being able to pull this off and letting down my favoritest yarny company in the process causing them to cut me off from their beautiful yarn (Three Irish Girls would never actually do this, but in my freak out moments, it seems highly likely).

The other part is looking at it as a good thing because, let's face it, I probably wouldn't have gotten around to actually writing up the pattern if I didn't have a reason like this. 

I am on take 2 of knitting a size that will fit a little person who lives in my house.  I learned that knitting something you are making up using a new knitting technique and a new knitting style (continental vs. English) is not the best idea.  Take 2 involves using my trusty English throwing and a proven technique.  It is going much better.