Wonderful weekend, back to work.
I will do everything in my power to never take a Malmstad class on a Monday again. It spoils the beginning of my week.
This weekend was a tough one for my knitting. In starting my cable pattern on the sweater yoke, I realized my count was significantly off. After going back and counting many, many times (rip out one row, count. rip out another row, count) I realized that I had finished the body with 4 too few stitches. One forgotten increase round, maybe. Anyhow, that happened 30 rows back, before the sleeves went on (last Wednesday) and I wasn’t about to rip all that out on account of a measly 4 stitches (even though, after all the increases and set-up work for the cable, it had somehow ballooned into 13 stitches too few, seriously disrupting my pattern). I rewrote the decreases in the pre-cable row, to decrease slightly less often for part of the pattern, symmetrically on both sides. Long story short, it worked, and the cable started off with a bang.
Of course, in the middle of the ripping out, I happened to get the yarn tangled in the wheel of the rolly-chair I was sitting in. Half an hour later, after taking the wheel off the chair entirely (I absolutely refused to cut the yarn to free it) I was back in business. Never mind that I was supposedly helping 3 knitters and watching the shop as all this was going on. Last night, I purled straight across a row which was supposed to be replete with 1-into-5 increases. One row, no problem, except it’s a tediously long 200+ stitch row. Ah well, patience is a virtue, one I apparently excel at.
Saturday night was the Spring Swing (note, one week earlier than last year). Lovely time. I got dolled up in a swirly skirt adorned with pink satin roses and a polka-dot bow in my hair, and danced the night away with the best dance partner in the room. And a lot of other wonderful dancers too. It was nice to see the variety of dancing styles out there, from off-the-wall West Coast, to snappy ballroom-style swing/jive, to goofy East Coast plus. Some highlights: Seeing Sverre totally overwhelmed, but then seeing him figure it out and give it his best; being tossed around like a ragdoll by Charles, who is the dancing epitome of insanity; getting stuck with creepy old man on a slow dance, but realizing he had some good moves; the “ex-ballroom” recognition moment over a reference to Paso Doble; being re-taught Samba on an empty dance floor by an inebriated Jon Fan; feeling like I know what I’m doing on the dancefloor (Salsa has the tendency to knock me down sometimes).
Back to real life, though. We’ve got 2 physics students in our house for one more night, which throws off my normal patterns of behavior, but no worries, they’re nice guys, and they’ll be gone tomorrow. But spring is approaching, flowers are a-blooming, and life is lovely. Minus Malmstad’s class. I wish I could just get over my irrational dislike of that course. Ah well, can’t win them all.