Short rows, however, continued to fill me with about as much affection as I felt for dentists and Calculus. Until this winter. I pulled up my Big Girl Panties, got my yarn out, found a pattern I loved, and did what any other knitter with the backbone of damp spaghetti and the mind and focus of a fevered fruit fly would do. I looked it up on YouTube. It helped a bit, but my fear kept pitty-patting back to the frontal lobe and I kept getting stymied. Then I found a good tutorial with detailed pictures, printed every single one out, put them in order and inched my way through my first wrap knitwise, wrap purlwise, pick up wrap, etc. You would think I was scaling Mt. Everest. Geez.
This was the perfect pattern for it, because you had to do short rows FOREVER. By the time I was finished with them, I was knitting short rows in my sleep. I am hoping that this turns out looking somewhat like the original here. Or at least like its fifth cousin distantly removed.