In Which To Give Good Advice Is Not Necessarily Fatal

The Plan was to do a post on the amazement of having a knitterly daughter. There were supposed to be pictures. There was supposed to be commentary on the pictures. Unfortunately, said daughter is back at college. With her knitting. Of which I have taken no pictures. Sorry.

You'd think I'd learn by now. Forget Machiavelli's advice to "make no small plans." Just don't make any. No plans. None. Zero. As soon as I think I've made one, it all goes down the tubes.

I do, however, have a mother-daughter knitting expedition I can relate.

It really was only because I needed to spend my gift certificate from Knitche. The fact that we got an extra day with Clare because her dorm was having plumbing problems was just serendipitous. The chance to take off for one last trip to the yarn store before I become mired in boys had nothing to do with it. I needed to spend my gift certificate. Clare needed some lime green or hot pink or electric blue sock yarn for the heels and toes of her, and I quote, "stripy, shiny socks". Sadly, Knitche had a dearth of bright-colored solid wool sock yarn. This was a blow. She had to settle for some vivid Baby Ull and the last set of Crystal Palace US0 DPN's.

This is where her knitting philosophy differs from mine. She will try it, whatever it is. I would have gotten all hung up on how the gauge probably won't be the same and the toes and heels won't fit the socks. I would have hamstrung myself with "and". She pretty much knows that, but figures she'll give it a shot. It could work. It's humbling to live with an adventurous knitter, even if it's only for a month or two at a time.

I was still on my quest for the last color in Cascade Heathers that I need for the new, improved Mitered Square Blanket. I intended to get something neutral. A grayish something. Or foggy green, maybe. Or something brownish. Never mind that previous attempts had landed me with these. Which are, in clockwise order from top left, too strong, too dull, too muddy, too orange and too dark. I seem to have a knack for making the same mistake in infinite variety.














This is the color I was considering while Clare hunted psychedelic sock yarn.

She, shall we say, dissuaded me. Instead, I came home with three skeins of this.












And you know what? She might be right.












Now I have to figure out what to to with all those errors in judgement. I suppose I could pretend I'm headed toward Mitered-Squares V.2. Of course, I could just admit my obvious addiction, but where would be the fun inthat?