I could never sit still, not for a minute, until my mother taught me how to knit. A knitting needle in each hand, wool around my little finger, my index finger under the wool and I was good to go. Never was I that concentrated on one thing. You hold your breath when you drop a stitch, you let out a short sharp cry when you stitched a knit instead of purl, but you continue because you don't know how to correct it, you panic when by accident more than two stitches comes off the knitting needle and you see how they work there way down your knitting and you tell yourself, don't pull the on the knitting and at the same time you shout, Mommy! Mommy comes to the rescue and she, then start talking about frogging. ?? Huh?? What?? Frogs? What does that have to do with knitting? You see her taking the knitting needles out and you shout, "NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" She says, "I'm frogging it." Huh? I could care less, I was just gutted because that took a lot of work, concentration and a full bladder. After she explained all my mishaps and I relieved my bladder, I continued where everything looked and made sense, I successfully finished my scarf and proudly showed it off too. Ah, the memories.
Through the years I did a fair share of frogging with my knitting and picking up of stitches. Here are some pictures of the finished product.
|The Front part.|
|The Finish Object|
|The side view|
Going to enjoy wearing the sweater this winter.