I have started this stocking
three four times now.
In the immortal words of Kay Gardiner, as simple as this pattern is, I am simpler.
Attempt #1: I thought the stitches would be easy to count, because I’m using enormous yarn. They weren’t, so I used a bit of orange string to mark the beginning of the round, and got out my clicker, which I predictably forgot to click. Also, the orange string vanished into the bowels of the sock. I finally settled on attaching a safety pin to the end of a chain of tiny safety pins every time I finished a round, and then starting again after I have 5 safety pins in a chain. This is the point at which I stagger the rib, which leads me to…
Attempt #2: I’ve noticed, in knitting patterns that are translated from Norwegian or Danish, that they leave out a lot of detail. This is probably because they expect you have been knitting since age six. In the absence of other information, I guessed that the staggered rib should be extended using a purl stitch, and I guessed wrong. The purl left a weird little diagonal bar that ruined the staircase effect of the rib, but it took me a while to realize this. If I’d had a Norwegian third-grader to consult, I’d have saved a lot of time: use a knit stitch instead.
Attempt #3 was going well, until I left it unattended, and my cat lay down on it. She doesn’t like being moved.
Attempt #4 looks good, so far. I had an epiphany: not all knitting needs to be portable. I got rid of the rubber bands on the ends of the double pointed needles, because they were slowing me down, and I’m hiding the whole thing from my cat in a little box under the couch. I may be inept, but I’m also stubborn. These will be done by the new year.