Blogward Ho'?
Uh, no.

Systemic changes at Chez Porcine have further hampered the already hampered availability of blogtime to this writer. My from-June-til-now un-self-employed husband has found a job. Actually, he found two jobs. For job one he's contracting himself into a shop, 9 to 5. Job two entails working extra jobs for the same shop at home, evenings.

This is a good thing because we need/have needed/will need the money. It's a bad thing because I've lost my Cabana Boy. And how I loved me some Cabana Boy. Even when he was up to his twinkle blues with work, the freedom and flexibility of his schedule still allowed him to do dishes, laundry, pick up scripts or run to the grocery and grab some breasts. And broccoli. For dinner.

No more Cabana Boy means that I am now the Head Domesticator, which means that after work there is little time for fun and games and blogs and stuff. Even before this change, it was becoming increasingly difficult to carve out time to write posts, with sanity. So until I find myself a new groove,a new cabana boy and/or a live-in team of life-size scrubby bubbles, I'm going to be short on blog and long on whine.

Knitward, Ho!
So saith the directions for finishing the Trudie Cardie:

Join Fronts to Back at shoulder edge. Mark for buttonholes evenly spaced along Right Front straight edge. With RS facing and circular needle, pick up around front opening as follows....::imagine numbers inserted here.::

So how I readeth the directions for finishing the Trudie Cardie:

Drink the wine. Intuitively space and mark for however many buttonholes your little button heart desires.. Drink the wine. Shitfaced and with RS facing, take the circular needles and stab wildly into general area of front edge. Continue with wild abandon until it looks like you have stabbed yourself just about enough stitches to go all around the neckline. Say to self “Peeesha Cake.” Knit a row. Drink the wine. Drink the wine. On next row, include some button-size holes along the front, as spirit moves or spinning couch allows. Knit another row and cast-off. Take some Ibuprofen. Say a prayer of thanks to St. Pinot of Gris. Go to bed. Wake up the next day and weep like a baby.

Let's just say the end result looked like 7 miles of ass. So I ripped.

In my second attempt, I used much more care. And math. And much less wine. And random. But after buttonhole three was carved, I thought they were spaced too close, so I tinked back the row and redid it. By then I didn’t need no dang markers, because I had math on my side, as follows: Make a hole, count 9 stitches, make a hole, count 9 stitches...How could I go wrong? Heh.

After I cast off, I found my self pumped and plumped with pride, at the beautifully spaced outcome ::Or maybe it was water retention. Whatever::. It took me a few minutes to realize there was a problem. Yet again.

If you look directly above the top marker, you can see the ill-fated hole.



When I changed the spacing of the buttonholes while the stitches were still on the needle, I kind of missed an important component of buttonhole planning for a v-neck cardigan. The V. Which begins about where that top marker is, about an inch lower than the top buttonhole.

Too bad, so sad, 'cause I’m not doing it again. The Trudie Cardie has been hereby redesigned itself from a five hole garment to three.



I sometimes hear my yarn crying out from their bins in the basement. I wonder what it means...

Labels: Bag-O-Hair, Knit In Progress, Now You're Whining