Bread and the Beauty of Ripping
The dough recipe is based on this one. I didn't have potato flakes or flour so substituted oats. I used about two tablespoons of honey in place of the sugar. Since I did that on a whim after the liquid was added, I needed about a tablespoon of bread flour to get a soft, but substantial dough. It's a little too soft, I think, but it tastes good.
I am back to work on this:
I took it with me to a nightclub and was working on it in the dark while listening to loud music. My wallet fell out of my knitting bag that night and I was pretty disturbed about that so the whole bag was in time-out for a while. When I did look, I realized that I had misplaced a yarnover (which I couldn't live with) and dropped a stitch which I split in my attempt to pick it up on the dark (I might have lived with that). So the poor neglected sock hung out waiting for me to repair it. Yesterday, when I was going shopping, I packed it up and brought it along.
When I stopped for gas, I pulled it out to start the dreaded repair process. And then boldly (for me, anyway) pulled out the needles and ripped. I picked the stitches back up in the parking lot of the Tar-jay and knit my way through the store. I've reknit the inch of knitting I was trying to save already. And it was much more enjoyable. I like to knit. I don't really like to repair mistakes. This should be a lesson.
I think the problem is that when I was six or so and first learned to knit, my mother explained to me that you really couldn't rip knitting out. It would ruin the yarn. The yarn would be all kinked and wouldn't reknit the same. I now know that this is largely not true: kinks are correctable and wool is forgiving. But somewhere in the back of brain, that still stands true.
May I always have the courage to rip and reknit.