Here are some of the gals who keep me knittin’ pretty. We meet every Saturday morning at the local coffee house from about 9:00 to noon (or however long we can convince ourselves to stay). We’re all at different levels of knitting, with Caryn being our ‘local expert’ (though she’d beg to differ). I’m on the left, then Caryn, Anita (we like to call her “Aknita”), my sister Molly (who, though a school teacher, refuses to learn to read a pattern), and Brooke (who told us today she PREGGERS!). The only one missing is Kay. I’ll catch her next time, though.
It was sad. She’d worked on it for weeks. The pattern was difficult to read, especially for a beginning knitter with no fear. We all tried to help. Even me. (That was more like the blind leading the blind.)We’d seen it done before. Caryn, frustrated with a quick-knit cardigan sewn together wrong (we blame ourselves; there was a lot of yakking), and having a heck of a time trying to frog it, impulsively and with no regret tossed the whole project into the trash can. We were shocked. (Although I have to admit I was a bit impressed, myself.)
But we all learn by example. Even those of us old enough to use our mom’s words on our own kids. Aknita tried to fix her mistake. I tried, too. So did Caryn. In the end, after hours of picking and pulling and snipping and bitching, what else could she do? A precedence had been set.