The Antipathies, I think.

`I wonder if I shall fall right through the earth! How funny it'll seem to come out among the people that walk with their heads downward! The
Antipathies, I think--' --Alice, as she fell down the rabbit hole.

The rabbit hole is deep and full of knitters, and I have fallen into it.  These things happen.  So many out-of-the-way things happen in this knitblog land, I sometimes think that very few things indeed are really impossible. 

Even so, I came to my senses about the cashmere.  I was just going to be too far behind, and where's the fun in that?  There was some hand-dyed zephyr in stash, and it became clear that this was the correct solution to my problem.  There was some prowling of the streets of Noho for 8/0 beads and for minuscule crochet hooks, but in the end all was well and I settled down to knit myself a mystery.  (Don't worry, I'm still going to spin the cashmere.  And don't worry, I'm still going to buy more so I have enough for the next rabbit hole.  For those who know me well, forgive the redundancy of actually saying that out loud.)

Anyway, on I cast, beaded I did, right along to the end of the first chart, at which point the sinking feeling that kept this yarn in stash and off the needles for two years was undeniable.  It was another case of hand-dyed yarn that looks gorgeous in the skein and like ass knitted up.

You can't even see the lace, never mind the beads.  This would NOT do.

Since I had no interest in buying more laceweight yarn, and since I had already stolen precious knitting time doing the first chart, I decided this was an opportunity for extreme knit-rescue techniques.  I am the boss of my knitting.  I can fix this.

I bound off.

I skeined up.

Into the dye pot it went with a pinch of black and a modicum of turquoise and magenta.  I mean, worst-case scenario, the knitted bit wouldn't dye evenly with the rest of it, and I'd have to rip it out.  Better than ripping it out without even trying, right?

While dyeing, I even watched a Lara Croft movie and kicked Rhys' ass at cribbage.  Just before bed, I rinsed and hung out to dry.

This morning, I'm back on the horse, and, if I do say so myself, with a lovely color that deftly splits the difference between the purples I was thinking of and the black that works with the theme.  It's subtly variegated, but not so much as to take over the pattern.  The beads sparkle.  (It's a little more midnight blue than it looks in the pictures.)

All in all, a decent evening's work.  Now what about that bottle labeled "drink me" over there on the table?