Knitting Secrets REVEALED!

I may look like a knitter, but I'm actually a ninja* (er... kninja. Not to be confused with Knitting Kninja, though). While I'm sitting there peacefully knitting two socks on one circ, I also know that I'm holding 42" of plastic-wrapped steel wire with a pointy, nickle-plated brass needle secured to each end.

Knitters refer to them in public as "circular knitting needles." Manufacturers also print this on the packaging to meet international safety regulations. In the privacy of our Assassins Guild meetings (also known to the muggles as "Stitch 'n' Bitch," or "Ravelry meet-up" or simply, "my knitting group"), we eagerly discuss and display the latest models in double-awl garrotes. Addi is arguably the most popular kninja assassination tools manufacturer in the world; however, KnitPicks Options, with their interchangeable needles spikes and zero-memory cords garroting wires are gaining in popularity.

Occasionally, knitters kninjas contract with specialty makers for custom pieces. I am especially proud of my 32" Jenkins #2 rosewoods. Hand-carved, hand-joined, hand-numbered, with an especially smooth join and exceptionally sharp points for the best lace work ever your most devious projects.

The pretty pretty wool and intricate stitch patterns are only there to distract you. The occasional cries of, "@#$(&$#%^!" followed by intense tinking are for the same purpose. Every once in a great while, usually while working under deep cover, the kninja may actually frog a project just to throw you off the scent.

I most recently had to frog the Baby Surprise Jacket. I didn't want to; I was backed in a corner, with the completed and mistake-laden BSJ staring me down. It had been languishing there for some time, misshapen and ignored, its skipped rows and misread instructions screaming for revenge; I knew I had no choice. I ripped it all the way back to the cast-on, wound the wool (technically wool/mohair) into a ball, and re-cast on.

Things went swimmingly from that point on. Of course, the first time I knit it, I thought things were going swimmingly -- up until the point I had to fold it together and sew the shoulder seams, when I realized that it just wouldn't fit. This time, however, I knew things would be different. Good different.


And now, finally, it is finished. Sort of. I still have to sew up the shoulder seams and find some good horn or bone buttons for it. But the knitting part is over, and the BSJ can be worn in peace. Until the little bugger decides to make mud pies while wearing it... or it becomes a concomitant victim in the age-old saga of Little Boys Destroying Things... in which case Auntie will knit him another.




*this post spawned by one of my friends, who asked me why I almost always wore all black to the gym. I figured the truth would be the easiest reply, so I said, "Because I'm a ninja."