Tug, pop, tug, pop, tug, I pull out my knitting for what seems like the 100th time. Perhaps it is only the third or forth time. The linen yarn is beginning to show signs of fraying, separated and torn strands of fiber; my patience is beginning to fray too with each unraveled loop.
Shaking my head, I think to myself, I have a beagle brain. Having now shared living space with three dogs, each one part-beagle, I have become rather familiar with their nose to the ground view of life, their ability to be easily distracted and their careless regard to any commands from their human companions. The trouble with beagles is they think they are smarter than anyone else. For example, Roxy, who is part beagle and part King Charles Spaniel, normally comes gleefully when called for dinner or a walk. But she gives me only a sidewise glance before she takes off to track down a scent or find just the perfect spot to poop. Only when her quest has come to its end, will she glance up with an innocent look. “Oh, were you calling me?” her eyes seem to say as she trots in my direction.
So when I began knitting the scarf, I got about 6 inches completed when I noticed a mistake. I thought, these directions don’t make sense. There must be something wrong with the pattern. It certainly couldn’t be my mistake. The second time I tried my own directions and I discovered that didn’t go well either. It’s not a complex pattern; in fact it is mind-numbingly repetitious. My thoughts stray, I forget where I am and knit two together when I should have done a yarn-over. For a while I manage to get back on track but after I have about 10 inches completed it looks more like a tangled senseless design than the nice diagonal pattern in the book. Pop, tug, pop, tug, rewind.
Do I hear someone calling my name?
My Turn 