Yesterday was Friday. Lots of people like to go out on Friday, especially after a hard day’s work. I do as well, but yesterday I had no plans and was itching to get home and get back to work.
And by ‘work’ I mean that after reading this post, I went straight to the cabinet for the vodka and olives for a nice lace-knitting lubricant in the form of a martini. [Now, normally I would not advocate this type of wanton activity, but everything in moderation, I say. Operative word being everything.]
A couple hours and ten rows later - hey, those rows near the end had 300+ stitches, mmkay? - and what, an hour for binding off? We have:
My dear ugly duckling Swallowtail, soon you shall be a Swan. Even though right now you are pathetic and deflated and crumpled, and look nothing like that beautiful dove gray version in the photograph, once I rehydrate you and stretch you to dimensions you didn’t know you could reach, you will blossom into a veritable shawl!
