I Had Nothing To Do With It

I'm going to blame this one on Diane's comment on yesterday's post. It makes a handy scapegoat. It was, after all, that comment that caused the knitting gods to look down on me. In it, she offered there wasn't such a thing as second bootie syndrome. We'll ignore that qualifying "I don't think" part.

After all, it couldn't be due to my inexperience at picking up stitches which left me with the wrong side of the cast-on edge on the outside of the bootie.

The fact that I am less than enamored of the way the yarn is knitting up is completely irrelevant.

My conviction that, while I expected the booties to be fraternal, I still expected them to be twins, or even oldest and youngest of a family of 12, rather than completely different generations, has nothing to do with my waning enthusiasm.

And then I have this problem with the not-so-fine line between the variations expected and accepted of any hand-made item and downright, outright mistakes imperfections.

Part of me is inclined to soldier on, finish the 2nd one and see if I have enough yarn left to make a third bootie.

For some strange and unfathomable reason, ripping out and recovering the first seems unduly onerous. I realize this make no sense - a third bootie is a third bootie no matter how I get it. Calling a skunk cabbage a rose doesn't change the fact that it's skunk cabbage.

Part of me is thinking of calling the first one a swatch. I do, after all, have other yarn.

The lesson here? Be careful what comments you leave on this blog. Someone is listening. It's probably me, but you'll never get me to admit it.