Triple Crown Shawl

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Triple Crown Shawl
by Angela Roberge

Bottoms up!

If you’re like me, by the time you get to the end of your shawlette, you’re aching for it to be over – even if it is a great pattern with great yarn.  The construction of this shawl is a Godsend for knitters with a short attention span.  Starting with a large number of stitches, each row gets gradually shorter making actually finishing this object a breeze.


$6.00 USD

There are two pattern alternatives from which to choose. Follow the Stockinette Version for a shawlette with a wide lace edge and stockinette stitch upper. Follow the All-Lace Version for a shawlette whose lace just won’t quit.

About Angela

My name is Angela, but I answer to Ang, Andrea, and Mommy. I am 42 years old, but somehow feel both 26 and 149. Sometimes at the same time. I love Jesus, but hate at least 2/3rds of the humans He created. I consider myself a good wife but a lousy housekeeper. I love being a mother but don’t particularly like children. Quality time and sarcasm are my Love Languages. Yes! You absolutely can drop by, provided you give me 15 minutes to panic-clean and put on pants. I know that 1 in every 33 births result in multiples. I know that gap narrows to 1 in 12 for subsequent pregnancies. I know this is why my tubes are cut, burned, and tied. Not today, Satan. I can recite the entire script of The Princess Bride, (including accents) and believe that the meaning of life is contained within. Birth stories, theDodo.com, and Soldiers-returning-home videos make me happy-ugly-cry. Being interrupted, a poorly made bed, and that Christmas Shoes song make me want to punch somebody. I’m an extrovert with crushing social anxiety. To deal with stress, I crack jokes. They will be awkward and make the situation 10x worse. I can whistle and hum at the same time, but I cannot touch my toes. I look grand in orange, red, and pink, but rubbish in yellow and blue. I am a writer. I have a dog named Henri. I have a brother named Adam. They are not related. I am slightly neurotic. No I’m not. Yes I am.

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