I have to hand it to the lace-knitters out there: it's not for the faint of heart (or clumsy of fingers). There were moments in this shawl where I was almost certain I'd screwed it up irreparably and would have to start all over again. Imagine my surprise and immense relief when I found my dropped stitches and forgotten yarnovers and somehow, miraculously, managed to recover from a couple of botched nupps. You almost can't see them, and probably won't once it's all blocked out. I fully intended to leave all nupps and beads out of my future lace endeavors, but at the end of the day (or fortnight, or possibly month), they do add a little to the pattern, don't they? Oh, bother. Take a drink for every one of my knitting taboos that I've now officially set to rights. If you're still sober at the end, um, whatever you do, don't tackle Estonian lace. Go knit a pair of socks or something. Or wrist-warmers. Anything involving long stretches of knit or purl and no small parts that can fall into a glass and get aspirated and have to be removed bronchoscopically. Yes, I went there. As for the rest of my remaining time in St. Louis, I'm going to go sort my hunter green merino laceweight and study for the Boards. Possibly at the same time. Because it's how I roll.
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