I've resisted knitting lace. My grandmother could tat lace, and her finished product was a thing of beauty. My mother crochets lace, from ornaments to doilies to Psalm:23, in a handy 3'-by-4' size (which won a blue ribbon at the county fair) to bedspreads and tablecloths. The woman's a lace machine. Me? Not so much. I don't tat, I don't crochet, and my two previous attempts at knitting lace have left me swearing and crying, hurling tangled masses of threadlike yarn across the room in defeat.