At knitting group this evening, there was much discussion of silver Hondas. I may have mentioned that I like to take pictures of my CR-V, particularly when the situation at hand requires that I get out the picnic table in the back, sort of like we are in a car commercial.
I’m learning that you can’t mention such a thing to people who actually READ your blog without requests to post photographic evidence of said table/car. Here’s the best CR-V and picnic table shot I’ve got, taken in the fall of 2006, on the CR-V’s inaugural camping trip. It’s not a great picture of me. It was a deceptively cold October weekend during elk season (not that we were hunting), and I’m both shoving food into my mouth and wearing many flattering layers of warmth, but the CRV and the picnic table look fabulous:
While I’m dipping into the photo archives, here are a few more pictures from that trip (taken by my camping companion, who likely has no problem with me using his pictures, but also has no idea that I have a blog, so forgive me for not properly/formally crediting him):
That looks like a setting suitable for a CR-V commercial, no?
Sigh. I’m going to miss living and playing out here.
I brought some waiting room knitting along to my Honda appointment. As I waited for my oil to be changed and for the nail to be removed from my tire, I pulled out the tiger sock — pictures here. About an inch and a half back, I found a mess of stitches — looks like I dropped a few and knit a few back together in order to get back to the proper stitch count. It looked like absolute hell — and then it hit me. I am over my fear of frogging! I took one look at that this morning and decided that it would not do, even though these socks are for me. This is my second pair of socks, and my first time working on size 0 needles. There are a few mistakes here and there, but overall, I am quite proud of how nice the heel looks. I haven’t actually taken this sock out of my bag to knit on for months, and apparently, in August I was fine with that mess of jumbled, tangled stitches. I am not okay with it today, which means…
I am no longer a beginner knitter! (Right?) I think it is a state of mind, more than anything, but for me, fear of fixing things has been one of those imaginary lines in the sand. There are so many things I want to learn, but the realization that I can rip something back and feel good about being able to pick up the stitches and re-do, rather than just unravel the entire thing and start over (or in this case, create a horrendous jumble) is liberating.
So that is what I did: rip rip rip, right in the middle of a crowded Honda waiting room. The other people looked at me like I was nuts when I brought out the sock in the first place, so I have no idea what they were thinking when I carefully removed my tiny pointy needles from my knitting, placed them on top of the magazine pile to my left and began gleefully unraveling the brightly striped sock in my lap. Before I could get all the way down to the cluster of errors, Mr. Super-helpful Service Man came to tell me that my car was ready, fixed tire and all. I shoved the yarn into my handy ziplock and followed him to the billing station…and they all lived happily ever after.