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I, naturally, have outgrown such things.

If I was going to throw a tantrum, which I wasn’t, and I wouldn’t, it would probably be about knitting.  For example, when I discovered that the raglan increases I had steadily and carefully completed while working on my Skinny Red Empire had, due to a row gauge miscalculation, resulted in the sleeves failing to have any real relationship to the way shoulders work, I sensibly and calmly identified the problem, ripped back and restarted.  So mature! So responsible! I didn’t cry, didn’t stamp my feet. I merely expressed thankfulness that I had found the problem early on, identified it and corrected it using my enormous brain.

Tantrums are for toddlers and grownups with Problems, who can’t cope when Life and Knitting throws them a little screwy curve ball.  They get all worked up and wave their fists about, and, in rare cases, throw themselves on the floor and howl and sob.  If such people were knitting Skinny Red Empire with me, they could definitely have such behaviour triggered by this:


That right there is a beautifully-constructed top.  My gauge is smooth and even, the neckline good, the decorative empire line flawless; it’s a really good execution of a really good pattern.

It’s in the wrong size. I read “36 inch bust” and thought I was executing the pattern for someone of that bust size, but that’s actually the finished proportions of the garment. Since I must have negative ease, I actually want a garment whose finishing proportions are more like 32-34 inches.  This is destined, sadly, for frogging.  And worst of all, it’s my own dumb fault: I just mis-read the pattern.  Devastating. I’m telling you, if I was at all inclined to throw tantrums, this would be a big fat trigger.

Added to this was the fact that I got about two-thirds of the way through my Coachella, which meant the armholes, back and neckline were all done, done, done, and then discovered that my closing-my-eyes-and-hoping approach to using a different yarn/different gauge and trying to remedy it by casting on a different size was really not leading me down the path of success.  I tried it on and learned that, if I leaned over, the whole garment simply billowed in the breeze, exposing boobs, bra, belly and belt buckle.  So that clearly wasn’t going to work.  I wiped a (mature, well-controlled) tear from my eye and bravely frogged. I certainly didn’t call it names, or use any adjectives that your primary school librarian would be disgusted at you looking up in the library’s dictionary. Certainly not.

I’m not having a lot of luck with the knitting at the moment, but I’m hoping to correct that.


Essential tank. Gauge is on. Sizing triple-checked.  Not too challenging.  Hoping it will remind me that I’m actually pretty good at this game and give me the energy and motivation to frog the Skinny Red Empire. Despite all rumours to the contrary, I did not fling myself bodily on the floor, nor did I weep, wail or whine.  I’m a bit bigger than that, thank you very much.

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