No he didn’t sing he didn’t dance. This frog was not a Prince, nor did he marry a Princess. This frog was an unraveled piece of knitting.
Why was there success? Because I managed to completely pull out 7 rows without loosing my mind, my place in the project or the entire piece of work.
He who shall not be named (Finn) sees my knitting bag and makes a dash for it every time. Not to shake if like a picture, sniff it out, or curiously nuzzle the softness … Because well who wouldn’t do that. No he flops on it like a salamander wiggling about not removing the contents but rather twisting them inside my bag.
What doesn’t felt usually comes a part. Seven rows a part.
To frog is to insert a thinner needle or even a frogging bar, I lovingly referred to these as Froggers in my youth, several rows down (2-3) from the area to be redone. Going from right to left you slide your needle into the middle of each stitch (the horseshoe) and when all the way across remove your working needle from the last point of work, pull your yarn out to the frog line and then get ready to insert your needle into this row.
I had most of that down, save the Frogger. I just put my needle back through. In doing so I also managed to insert through the wrong post of the horseshoe and on knitting back I now see the twist. To ANYONE else there is nothing there. My grandmother however would make me do it over because her knitting OCD was legendary.
She also would have duct taped Finn to a sheep for the day to teach him to stay the hell away from works in progress.