Here's the scoop: I want to do the freaking Hanging Gardens Stole. I do not care what my adoring public thinks of me for it. It must be done. That's why it is possibly hideous. Possibly, so many of you who voted against it are right. Possibly, it will not be fit to wrap a baby in. Not that there are any babies involved, but if there were, they're not exactly going to bitch about how ugly your knitting is, are they? Unless it's just that hideous. I digress.
What I really wanted to talk to y'all about was Black Olive's Birch, and the beading involved in it. Is that not the prettiest thing you ever did see? I bet you're all sitting in front of your computers, and that you all got a violent convulsion of discontent, feeling as though I was posting something gorgeous to my blog that no one could see. Because, you see, you can't. Because although the internet has been restored in our apartment (it was a shaky 27 hours for these newly-weds, let me tell you), blogger is not letting anyone look at anyone else's blogger blogs. And that sucks. So, like I was saying, I bet you all got a convulsion of discontent wherever you were, this eve of Februrary fifth, around 8:25. Because you knew I was posting something salivatious, and you were not immediatly able to access it. Isn't it lovely? It's one of the main reasons I decided I wanted to be more ambitious in my knitting. I wanted to knit more than just dishcloths. I wanted to make something that prettty.
So, here I am, faced with the perfect opportunity to knit a fabulous Hanging Gardens Stole for the Olympics. With beading. Did I mention that the pattern calls for beading at the edges? This is why I want it so badly, folks. And today, although you might not be willing to accept my knitting of this very elegant pattern in a very non-elegant (we'll just call it nelegant, ok?) color, hot pink, I slacked a bit in the eternal watchfulness I have. You know, the one in which I respect the opinions of people smarter than I (ie: y'all) and squelch the urges to do things against which you have declared unworthy or inappropriate. And when these urges are not squelched, my friends, things happen. Things I would post pictures of, if it weren't for blogger being a poopy-pants tonight. And I will, when it gets a freaking diaper change. Ok? Promise. Not that you can read this. But whatever.