lies

You know how when something begins there is that excitement, that rush when things are going well? You begin to have hope. There is the promise of something great. But then the LIES come in and hope gets crushed and you wish you had never hoped in the first place. Yeah. As much as this sounds like a bitter-single-woman story, it's actually a knitting story. (Although it may be analogous to a bitter-single-woman story)

I had all that Katia Twist that I bought at the LYS (seriously on sale) when I wasn't going to buy anything. It was calling out to me: "I really want to be a cardigan or a jacket. I'll be so comfortable, perfect for the office when the AC gets overzealous." I found a pattern that I thought would be perfect. I had enough yarn, I had the needles, the pattern was simple but interesting enough to keep me going. No problem. The excitement of a new project.

I hope that it means that I haven't slipped so far into bitter-single-womanness that I didn't immediately think yarn and pattern were lying to me. Conspiring against me.

Zippered Cardigan from Vogue Knitting Winter 2004/05. (BTW with all of the resources at their disposal, don't you think that Vogue Knitting could come up with more interesting names for their projects? I mean, "Zippered Cardigan" is descriptive and accurate, but not so interesting...)

The back went so quickly, then the fronts. There was this great cable decrease detail on the raglan sleeve holes.


I blocked, knowing in my heart that if I put in the effort, if I tried and worked at it, then the relationship, er, I mean, the cardigan (sorry, got a little carried away with the analogy there) would be worth it.



I carefully and joyfully seamed the body and sleeves together, careful to make my seams even and flat and not too tight. It was at this point that I realized that my heart was about to be broken.


See, it looks okay, right? WRONG. It lies. It says to me "I will be so comfortable" all the while it is cutting off the circulation in my arms and seeing other people behind my back.

(again, got a little off track there... )

See how my arms are in a kind of funny position there? That's the only way I could hold them. See how the sleeves are a little short? I made the sleeves 3 inches longer than the pattern called for. I blocked the living crap out of them. I blocked the raglan cap to about 2 inches wider than the pattern called for. I don't know what went wrong. It was impossible to move my arms.

The body fit properly, the sleeves LOOKed right. It just wasn't gonna work. So I put it aside. I slept on it. I tried to figure out how to make it work. I didn't have enough yarn left over to make the sleeves bigger. I didn't know what to do. It was like KNOWING that you were about to get dumped and trying frantically to figure out how to NOT get dumped. (sorry, couldn't resist)(I'm really okay, i'm not as bitter as this makes me sound)(just seen too many movies where the quirky girl ALWAYS gets the guy)(which doesn't really happen, BTW)

So, back to the knitting. I frogged it. Rip. Like a bandaid. Didn't think too much, just did it. Wound it back into balls and it's sitting on the floor waiting in time out until I can bring myself to look at it again. It has some explaining to do.

So, like the carefree strong woman I am (ha) I picked up the needles, picked up a different yarn (recycled from a Value Village sweater) and cast on for a different zippered jacket. Am I a glutton for punishment? Am I doomed to continue to make the same mistakes (again, this is seeming really analogous)? We'll see.

And, on a totally different topic, a non-bitter-single-woman topic, here is something that is probably telling about me, but I don't know what it means:

People who know me will tell you that I tend to dress in neutrals (black, beige, dark blues, the occasional muted green). I don't like to have to think about my clothing too much. I end up buying a bunch of the same t-shirt or jeans because then I don't have to try them on. Recently, I realized that I had acquired some shirts and t-shirts with more color in them. Wow! I was starting to change and branch out in my color choices. Then, one day I noticed my t-shirts hanging on the drying rack.



See that? My big foray into "Color" resulted in a bunch of coordinating t-shirts. How did that happen? How did I end up with all these shirts in practically the same color? I like the color, that must be it, but... it was kind of shocking to realize that I hadn't branched out that far after all!

This is what I was wearing when I realized this.