The Cheerful Knitter Returns

This knitting blog, and this knitter, have been on hiatus for retooling.

W.I.P. Update
I finished the lovely 2-tone rose and dark raspberry color-block sweater by knitting a folded-over collar with a center split. No need to center the cable pattern; I just had to make sure my stitch count when picking up the neckband stitches accommodated a full repeat of the same pattern I used on the hem and cuffs. The edges of the pattern were 2x2 ribbing so they wouldn't roll.

I knitted the collar back and forth on a circular needle so I could try it on and get an idea of how long to make it, which worked well, except that the nylon wire of my needle was very curly. I have since dipped all my circular needles in boiling water in order to relax them. I think this will greatly improve my opinion of circular needles. I have no idea why I didn't try this sooner, as I read this tip a very long time ago.

I haven't officially worn this sweater yet (trying on doesn't count) as I finished it just in time to put it away with other winter clothes, but I am looking forward to that first chilly fall morning to give it a whirl.

The deep violet yarn sees the light of day.
The deep violet yarn was at last next, and I am almost finished knitting a thick, intrepid cardigan with it. The sleeves and part of the body fabric are Irish moss stitch, a pattern I have never used before as I thought the constant switching from knit to purl and back again after every stitch would be maddeningly slow. I was right of course, but in this gauge I liked the results so much that it was worth it. It looks animated and affable, and I think it will be very warm. The moss stitch is broken up by a very impressive stripe of bold moss stitch diamonds on a background of stockinette stitch, separated from the rest of the fabric by a couple of 1x1 ribs. There is one thick stripe on each side of the front, and at the shoulders they meet 2 corresponding stripes on the back. Don't think that didn't take a lot of math.

There is 2x2 ribbing at the hem and cuffs, and I plan the same for the button bands. Picking up stitches for them will be my next step after I finish sewing on the second sleeve and do the side and sleeve seams. I have already tried it on (with pins) and the size seems right. Confidence is high.

A Low Stasher Unburdens Herself

I understand that there are many knitters who feel the need to have a lot of yarn on hand. These knitters build up their stashes of yarn with dedication and gusto. They buy yarn for their next knitting project. They buy yarn for future projects they are thinking of knitting. They buy yarn to keep the other yarn in the stash company. It seems that some knitters enjoy buying yarn as much as they enjoy knitting it.

I, however, cannot claim to be among their number. While I love buying yarn for a specific project, I don't like to buy yarn too far ahead of when I will actually be knitting it. Browsing through the aisles of my l.y.s., touching the skeins, combining colors, and calculating the cost of enough of a certain brand to make a sweater, are all activities I can engage in with no expenditure of cash or commitment. If I change my mind about what color I'd like to use, if I decide I'd prefer something in a different thickness, or if I happen to win the Irish Sweepstakes and can suddenly afford to knit exclusively with cashmere, I will have no encumbrances holding me back from my true destiny. The universe is full of surprises, and I prefer to allow for all possibilities.
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Did My Second Ugly Sweater Teach Me Anything?
The Yarn Girls' Guide to Simple Knits provided the pattern for my next sweater, although this time I had no objection to its name: "Trick or Treat." Refusing to take to heart the lessons my second ugly sweater tried so hard to teach me about using thick yarn, I used even thicker yarn and bigger needles for this project--size 11, with a gauge of 3 sts=1". Further disregarding even the pleasant lessons, the things I did right, I unaccountably chose black for the color. Not "Midnight Serenade" or "Raven's Feather" or "Ladybug Spots." Just black.

I felt that the set-in sleeves were one of the most successful aspects of my baroque sweater, and I was glad I could repeat this design feature on my next project. It would be knit in stockinette stitch, with 4x4 ribbing at the edges. Reading through the finishing instructions, I saw that they expected me to use a circular needle again for the neckband, but since there was a crewneck instead of a v-neck, it would be much easier this time for me to knit it on straights.
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W.I.P.

I gave myself a stern lecture about not allowing the quest for perfection to get in the way of excellence and learning something new, and started picking up the neckband stitches for my rose sweater. I'm stopping frequently to check for holes and to make sure it's even, but I'm almost at the back, which of course will be a breeze. Then I'll need to plan the positioning of the cable pattern, which I'm hoping will not be as tricky as I fear. If necessary, I'll work on my auxiliary knitting (a reversible cable scarf) for a while in order to build up my confidence.

Purls of Wisdom

From Stephanie Pearl-McPhee Casts Off: The Yarn Harlot's Guide to the Land of Knitting: "The low stasher is a knitter who genuinely feels no need to stockpile wool in vast quantities...Many low stashers...find having a small or nonexistent stash spiritually lightening. Should you encounter a true low stasher, admire her greatly. You may never meet another one."

Tomorrow:

• My third ugly sweater: So thick! So quick!
• W.I.P.: Will I have finished picking up the neckband stitches?

Baroque Lessons Learned

Lessons Learned From My Second Ugly Sweater
Although I proudly wore my new sweater on my birthday (and on several other occasions when I was confident of encountering no acquaintances blessed with bracing honesty) I recognized that this second sweater-knitting effort allowed much room for improvement. It was as beautiful to me as my first sweater had been, cradling as it did my ambitious hopes within each stitch. Yet it still qualified as an "ugly sweater" to me because of its unmistakenly amateurish nature. Once I had blown out all my candles and my giddiness had abated, I took stock of what I had learned from my second ugly sweater.

1. Knitting with a color you love is much more enjoyable than knitting with a color you do not love. While staring into the depths of "Baroque" I imagined sunsets, waves, mountains, and wildflowers. It does help the time pass when you're knitting monotonous stockinette stitch.
2. Picturing yourself wearing a knitted project on a specific date is an excellent motivational technique.
3. Translating neckband directions for knitting in the round to straight needles is a difficult thing to do, and may not be easier than actually learning to knit in the round.
4. My arms need longer sleeves than patterns may allow for; I should knit about an inch more before shaping the sleeve cap.
5. A neckband opening that is too snug may look fine once it's on, but it is difficult to pull over your head.
6. Thick yarn makes thick seams.
7. Although thick yarn knits up quickly, it may not make the most flattering garment.
8. Parents are easily impressed, and are therefore the best people to ask, "How does it look?" when you don't necessarily want the whole truth.

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W.I.P.

Whenever I find myself virtuously performing some unpleasant but non-urgent task, I eventually ask myself what even more unpleasant task I am trying to shirk. Usually it's something involving bleach or a toilet brush. This morning as I removed all the plates and storage bowls from the kitchen cupboards and wiped down each shelf, I suddenly came to my senses and asked myself why I was doing this. Surprisingly, the answer is that I was trying to delay picking up the neckband stitches for my rose sweater.

I've picked up neckbands before, but this time feels different. It will undoubtedly be more difficult because of the cable pattern, but I have strategies in mind to deal with this increased challenge. I have to admit that because I have such high hopes for this sweater, I'm afraid of a less-than-perfect neckband ruining the whole project. I need to remind myself that it's only yarn, and that I've started over with this sweater before, and I can certainly pick up a neckband more than once if necessary in order to bring the reality as close as possible to my imagination.

Purls of Wisdom

From Stephanie Pearl-McPhee Casts Off: The Yarn Harlot's Guide to the Land of Knitting: "Knitting, like music and art, challenges us to see how parts become a whole, and in doing so, it provides many of the same incredible benefits for your brain. The ability to think creatively, contiguously, and linearly...knitting challenges our brains and makes us better thinkers."

Tomorrow:

• Thoughts on stash.
• The planning of the third ugly sweater.
• W.I.P.: Will I overcome my qualms and start that neckband?

A Happy Birthday

By working diligently, I was able to make up time on the second sleeve, and my second ugly sweater was completed in time for my birthday. Contrarily, the weather was warm that day, without even a hint of an autumn chill in the air that might have made a thick handknit an appropriate wardrobe choice. I wouldn't have cared if the sidewalks were melting; I wore my sweater proudly and cheerfully. It didn't garner any compliments (except from my parents, the most biased of reviewers); nor did anyone noticeably snicker at my poor taste in tops. All in all, not bad.
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W.I.P.
In a long knitting session this morning as I listened to the steady drizzle on the pavement outside my window, I finished the front of my sweater. As soon as it was off the needles I retrieved the back section from the closet and pinned the shoulders together. Happily, the color transition matches perfectly, and the sections are the same length. Tomorrow I will sew the right shoulder seam and pick up the neckband stitches. Although I do not intend to knit it in the round, I may use a circular needle to knit it back and forth. Then, I will plan the positioning of the traveling cable pattern so that it is centered around the neck. I think using the circular needle will make this easier. I'll mark the center 2 stitches of the neckband bind-off with a safety pin to help as well.

Purls of Wisdom
From Maggie Rightetti's Knitting in Plain English: "Stop frequently and admire your work and yourself. You are making something out of nothing and you should be proud of what you are doing and proud of yourself for doing it!"

Tomorrow:

• Lessons learned from my second ugly sweater.
• W.I.P.: How's the neckband coming along?

The Egg Lady

Yes, indeed.
There I was yesterday afternoon, buying cheese and trying to restrain myself from singing along too conspicuously to "The Night Chicago Died" (When did supermarkets start playing such awesome music?) when I spotted it. Checking for goo on the bottom of her egg carton was a lady wearing the perfect sweater. At least, it was perfect for what I was on the lookout for: a stitch pattern for my deep violet yarn.

I have had this yarn for a long time, and on more than one occasion it was going to be "next." However, none of the swatches I've made with it seems to be just right. It's a smooth yarn, acrylic, with a gauge of 4 sts=1" on size 8 needles. You might think it would readily lend itself to any stitch pattern, but it hasn't been so. I've tried a simple eyelet lace, but the holes seem too wide and the decreases too lumpy. I've tried rope cables, but the color seems too deep to show them off to good advantage. I've considered stockinette stitch, but it would be too craven a choice. When this yarn speaks to me, it appeals to me to knit it into something winsome but unfussy, special but substantial. The only thing I know for sure is I want to make a cardigan. I think.

The egg lady's sweater was a spring green raglan style with a zipper, but these features were irrelevant to me. I maneuvered my cart next to hers and picked up an egg carton myself, pretending to check for broken eggs as I studied her back. It was an allover stitch pattern combining knit and purl stitches, and it reminded me vaguely of waffles.

As soon as I got home I rushed to check Barbara Walker's A Treasury of Knitting Patterns. I flipped through the first section: moss stitch? sand stitch? spot stitch? Aha! Broken rib pattern. I've seen this pattern before, of course, in this book and other stitch encyclopedias, but I failed to fully appreciate its charm until I saw it knitted into a bona fide sweater. I think this pattern might be just right, but I am not the final authority. I will have to consult the yarn.
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Sleeves, Sleeves, Sleeves
I worked on the sleeves of my second ugly sweater during every spare moment: a couple of rows early in the morning, at least an inch during lunch, and as much as I could manage in the evening. Day by day as my birthday deadline approached, the first sleeve grew longer and longer. At last I reached the shaping of the sleeve cap, and I realized that the bind-offs at the beginning of the rows exactly matched the directions for shaping the armholes. I felt like the astronaut in Arthur C. Clarke's 2001 reflecting on the measurements of the monolith. How logical! How necessary! The geometry of knitting can be as elegant as any mathematical formula.

I had allocated a week for each sleeve, but the knitting of the first one exceeded that by two days. I would have to make up time if I was to have the sweater sewn together by my birthday. With renewed energy and determination, I cast on for the second sleeve.
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W.I.P.
Although I haven't yet reached the center neckband bind-off, I'm pleased with my progress. I finished the armhole shaping and am well into the section of lighter rose. I like the look of these colors together very much. Maybe my next sweater will also be a type of color block design, unless I finally begin that deep violet cardigan.

Purls of Wisdom
From Carolyn Clewer's Kids Can Knit: "Knitting your first sweater will take less time than you think."

Tomorrow:

• The second ugly sweater: Will I meet my birthday deadline?
• W.I.P.: Will I still be working on the front?

Knit What You Know

My Second Ugly Sweater, or My First Ugly Vest?
I'm sure that everyone who has ever knitted a sweater has had this thought at one time or another: "Wouldn't I really like a vest better?" After knitting the back and front, and maybe even sewing the shoulder seams and finishing the neckband, getting started on the sleeves can seem like an unnecessary chore. After all, vests are legitimate garments, too.

However, in the motivating mental image I had created to encourage me toward my birthday deadline, I was definitely wearing a sweater with sleeves. (For some reason, I was also swinging an umbrella and singing about fresh laundry, a scene I might have imprinted from a detergent commercial.) I would be true to my vision. I plunged right in and started on the sleeves.

The first thing I did was write out row-by-row directions so that I wouldn't miss an increase. Checking off each row as it is completed helps me to keep track of how many stitches I should have on the needles at all times, and it also provides tangible evidence of progress. Unlike measuring the sleeve itself, by checking my written directions I can also count how many uphill rows are left to go before shaping the sleeve cap.

The increase I used was the same for each edge of the sleeve; I did not match them as I have since learned to do. At least I left two edge stitches before working the increases, since I now knew that this technique greatly eased the task of sewing-up. In fact, it was not until making the beige sweater that I just completed that I used matching sleeve increases designed to lean left or right. I found the instructions for these raised increases in Beth Brown-Reinsel's book Knitting Ganseys, along with some very clear photographs. At the time that I was knitting my second ugly sweater, however, I knitted what I knew and used the right-leaning increase for both sides of the sleeves.

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W.I.P.
I was able to finish the back section, and I've started the armhole shaping for the front section. Now that the back is complete and safely stored in the closet, out of reach of curious paws, I've switched back to my normal-sized knitting bag. I'd like to reach the neckband bind-off today, but since the clocks changed last night and I lost an hour of knitting time, this might be too ambitious a goal.

Purls of Wisdom
From Roger von Oech's A Whack on the Side of the Head: How You Can Be More Creative: "If a thing's worth doing, it's okay to do it poorly. Otherwise, you'll never give yourself permission to be a beginner at a new activity. If you have to do well, then you'll prevent yourself from trying new things."

Tomorrow:

• Sleeves, sleeves, sleeves.
• W.I.P.: Will I at least be at the color change yet?

Knitting to a Deadline

My Second Ugly Sweater: My Birthday Deadline Approaches
Whenever I start a knitting project, especially a sweater, I generally fix in my mind some date, either significant or random, by which I hope to have it completed. Usually this involves picturing myself wearing the item in question. For example, I wanted to finish the beige wool sampler sweater by Valentine's Day because of the many hearts stitched into it. Valentine's Day came and went with the sleeves still on the needles, however, and I gave myself an extension til the kitten's birthday next week.

While casting on my purple sweater at the beginning of August (about two and a half years ago now), I decided I would like to wear it on my birthday, about six weeks from then. Keeping this picture firmly in mind motivated me during the repetitious bits. Never mind that a thick sweater of a color designed to absorb heat might not be the most comfortable choice of clothing on that particular date. September's weather is always a roll of the dice, and so was my plan to have my project sewn up by then.

I started on the sleeves with a week allocated for each, plus one day for the sewing. It was a tight schedule, but after all, the neckband was already finished, such as it was. I figured that as long as knitting the sleeves proceeded without a hitch, I could meet my birthday deadline.
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W.I.P.
I completed the armhole shaping and rushed through the few rows of working even with the dark rose so that I could change to the lighter shade. The combination is subtle and pretty, and I am cautiously optimistic about a rosy future for this sweater despite its inauspicious inception.

Tomorrow I have several hours of "waiting time" to fill while my daughter takes a marathon of an exam, and in case I finish the back early I prepared the front to be re-knit in the same fashion. After all, I wouldn't want to be seen frogging in public; it's best to take care of such things privately. Nothing's worse than time on my hands and no knitting to occupy them. I've been obliged to transfer everything to a larger knitting bag, though, as I am now carrying two half-completed body sections, a second skein of the light color in case I reach the front neckband, a notepad to mark the rows, and my usual small kit of notions. I like to be prepared.

Purls of Wisdom
From Elizabeth Zimmermann's Knitter's Almanac: "I knit all year, day in, day out. It is my passion, and I rarely knit the same thing twice the same way."

Tomorrow:

• The second ugly sweater: Maybe I really wanted a new vest for my birthday instead of a sweater.
• W.I.P.: Will I have finished the back and started re-knitting the front?

"V" for "Valiant"

My Second Ugly Sweater
When the front section was five inches shorter than the back section, I prepared to knit my first v-neck. Using a bread bag twist-tie as a marker, I marked the center of the row and started following the Yarn Girls' row-by-row directions. The left side used the K2tog decrease, and after twenty ever-shortening rows I had a quite creditable slanted edge. My tally sheet of completed rows was once again very useful, as I did not need to rely on measuring to know that I needed to knit two even rows before binding off in order to match the length to the back section. I rejoined the yarn to the center and repeated the procedure on the right side, this time using the SSK decrease. I blithely thought that I would never want to make any other kind of neck opening but a v-neck.

I was so buoyed up by the ease with which I had accomplished my first v-neck that I couldn't wait to complete the neckband and try it on. I read the finishing instructions and realized that they expected me to use a circular needle for the neckband. This was certainly more than I had bargained for, as there was no mention of circular needles in the list of required materials. I had briefly used a circular needle on my first sweater, just to be able to say I had tried it, but the experiment had left me a bit disoriented. Undaunted, I decided to adapt. I sewed the right shoulder seam and set to work picking up the stitches around the v-neck on a straight needle.

Two body sections of a sweater half-sewn together and hanging off a straight needle is a cumbersome thing. I did my best to make the necessary adjustments to the instructions for the center decreases from working in the round to working back and forth, relying in the end on common sense and a willingness to rip it out and start over until I figured it out. Four rows of ribbing took almost the same amount of time as the whole front did, and the left neck seam is still a hash. Ultimately, I came to the realization that such a textured yarn was surely made to absolve sins such as this, and I bound it off. I grimly thought that I would never want to knit another v-neck again.
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W.I.P.
Although I've completed two other projects since putting aside my dark rose heather sweater, it's never been far from my thoughts. Every time I flipped the pages of another book of sweater patterns, I wondered how I might adapt one design or another to resolve its issues. Periodically taking it out to analyze and brutally laying bare its deficiencies, I've come to accept that an insufficient quantity of matching yarn is not this sweater's only problem. The neckband is a little snug, and I really would like another shot at centering its cable pattern. Also, I'd prefer set-in sleeves to dropped shoulders, for which there was no need once I abandoned the stripes.

The do-over idea I finally hit upon is taken from a pattern in Sally Melville's book The Knitting Experience: The Purl Stitch. Her design is a set-in sleeve style in which most of the body is knit in one color, and the sleeves and upper portion of the body are knit in a lighter color. The color change occurs about three inches up the sleeve cap. I decided to use the next lightest shade of rose for the top and sleeves. (Don't think I didn't buy enough of that in the same dye lot for at least two whole sweaters!)

The first step to take was undoing the shoulder seams, a task which was easier than it might have been because I fortuitously used a different color yarn for sewing-up. With mixed feelings, I then unravelled the neckband. The traveling cable pattern is so striking that I was upset at having to sacrifice it, but at least I could look forward to knitting it again in the lighter color.

Now that my former incomplete sweater was once again nothing but two body sections, I had to undo the back section down to where the armhole shaping needed to begin. I shooed both cats out of the room and turned a blind eye to their indignant little triangular faces as I firmly closed the door. As an afterthought, calling through the door I enjoined the dog not to eat the cats while I was busy. I measured the piece carefully and calculated how many rows would have to go. I marked my stopping point with a safety pin to insure against over-enthusiasm, and frogged away.

The "works and days of hands" that had taken me weeks to create disappeared in minutes. I placed the exposed and vulnerable stitches on a needle as carefully as a SWAT team detonating a bomb. Without even stopping to thank the animals for their cooperation, I started on the armhole shaping without delay.

Purls of Wisdom
From T. S. Eliot's poem "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock":

"There will be time, there will be time...
...time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions...
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse."

Tomorrow:

• The second ugly sweater: My birthday deadline approaches.
• W.I.P.: Will the armhole shaping be complete?

Knitting Memories

No matter how long it takes me to knit something, when I look back on the time I spent with it there is always one memory above all others that stands out for each project. Prominent among my recollections of the many months of knitting the orange sweater for my daughter is the picture of me sitting on a most unyielding gym floor, working on the front section as I waited through yet another of her talent show rehearsals as the end of fifth-grade approached. I never did remember to bring a cushion.

Back when I was still substitute teaching, I remember sitting in a kindergarten classroom while the children were at recess, knitting a scarf and considering various methods of faking my own death before the bell rang. The morning had taken just about all I had, and an afternoon uninterrupted by gym, library, or art stretched before me. The class's rightful teacher had for some unfathomable reason placed her desk right next to the bathroom, and while there may be some coordinates on the map that offer a more noxious sensory experience than a kindergarten bathroom, at the moment I couldn't think of any. In rushed one of the recess aides with a slightly green little boy named Ryan. He flipped the bathroom doorknob sign from green to red, closed the door behind him, and loudly vomited. Unfazed, the recess aide began admiring my knitting. While Ryan heaved and the aide chatted away about her attempts to learn to knit left-handed, I tried to ban the uninvited thought, "Whenever I look at this scarf, I'm going to think of this day." The scarf is a cheery bright red, knitted in an impressive feather and fan lace pattern, warm and soft. Although I must have worked on it at home and in countless other classrooms, and several other places, too, when I look at it, my only association with knitting it is little Ryan throwing up. That red scarf spends a lot of time in the back of the closet.

The Front of My Second Ugly Sweater
My most vivid memory of knitting my baroque-colored sweater is of watching a movie on TV with my husband one night after tucking in the children. It was cozy to be working steadily along, making good progress on the front. The movie was absorbing and all was right with the world. Abruptly, my mood changed as I gasped at what was sliding through my fingers. Something had gone awry in the dye vat, and a two-inch section of yarn was completely white.

Even though I love nothing better than a yarn bargain, this was not some knock-down, odd-lot, cut-price stuff I was knitting. This yarn was purported to be first-quality goods, and it came from a large and reputable yarn concern. My affrontery knew no bounds. Maundering about expecting better treatment than this from a company that should know what they're doing by now, I tinked back to the beginning of the row, cut out the blight, and carefully checked the next few yards in the skein. It seemed all right, and in fact I had no further trouble of this kind. I resumed my knitting and my customary cheerful mood. I've forgiven the yarn company, but as you see, I haven't been able to forget.

Since then, more than one knitting book I've read has offered the sensible tip of pulling out a row's worth of yarn and checking for knots or other irregularities before starting to knit each row. It's a good idea, but despite my own distressing experience, I never follow this advice.
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W.I.P.
The problem the first time around with my dark rose heather sweater was this: it was going to be striped. I had bought four skeins of that color and one each of two successively lighter pinks and a complementary blue. The yardage would have been more than sufficient, I swear. I really planned it out carefully. Since I was unwilling to bother about matching the sleeve stripes to the body stripes, I was going to make dropped shoulders. I striped my way through the ribbing and virtuously started up the back when I was sidetracked by what seemed at the time to be a much better idea: Why not take this opportunity to throw in a few fair isle patterns? I had found a book with some easy-as-pie charts, so I impetuously changed horses in mid-stream.

This was not my first attempt at fair isle knitting. About a year and a half previously I had made two holiday sweaters for my teddy bear Sam and his friend, one in red and one in green, each sporting a white Scandinavian snowflake. I had lifted the chart from a hat pattern, and it was just the right size to fill the front of each sweater. The bear sweaters came out so well that I forgot what a nuisance I found fair isle technique to be. After untangling my way through only a few inches of my pink and blue sweater, however, I remembered why I had so resolutely returned to single-color knitting. So far did my wish for simplicity extend that I disdained even to return to the stripes. Not troubling to bind off, I left my suspended sweater on a needle and banished it to a storage box. I cast on anew for a single-color sweater in the dark rose, rashly thinking that if I ran out, I could always match it up later. Of course, I couldn't, so Nicky Epstein's clever traveling cables have been in hibernation until now.

Purls of Wisdom
From Elizabeth Zimmermann's Knitting Without Tears: "Discrepancies will ocur between dye lots; even with white, even with black. Never start a project without sufficient wool to finish it. But on a rainy winter's night who can resist three or four skeins of wool, pleading to be made into a sweater? 'I'll go to the wool shop first thing, and match the wool.' Oh dear. Famous last words."

Tomorrow

• My second ugly sweater: the v-neck.
• W.I.P.: Frogging is such sweet sorrow.

With Growing Confidence...

My "Baroque" Sweater
I repeated my efficient practice of keeping track of how many rows it took to knit each section of a sweater so that I could match front and back, left sleeve and right sleeve, with no uncertainty. Four rows of ribbing, 56 rows of stockinette, then I at last earned my reward--shaping the armholes on the back. As I knew they would, the Yarn Girls made it easy. All it took was starting each of 4 rows with a few bind-offs, and the 5th row had a decrease at each end. Sixty stitches were reduced to 48, and I was back to "working even" before I could even work up a good fret that I might not be doing it right.


Although the pattern directed me to K2tog at each end on the 5th row, by this time my extensive reading had unveiled the meaning and importance of matching decreases so that one side leaned left and the other leaned right, and I substituted SSK for the first K2tog. I also decided to work the decreases two stitches from the edge instead of one. Did this make a difference in the look of the finished garment? Maybe not to the casual observer, but I was determined to knit my sweaters as professionally as possible, and I mined all available sources for proper techniques and tips.

So how long was this second sweater taking me to knit? Was this project going to span three seasons like the first? Absolutely not. I had been around the sweater-knitting block once before and I knew what to expect, which always shortens a journey. Even though this would be a larger size, there would also be less to knit due to the set-in sleeves. Taking the larger needles into account as well, and the fact that I had banished all insecurities, I was optimistic that I could finish it quickly.

I had also found while making the orange sweater that I loved sewing-up, and I was actually looking forward to the "difficult parts." (It reminds me of my second pregnancy, which I eagerly anticipated concluding with an early delivery like the first one. Perversely, my daughter arrived one day late.) This time, I had a deadline over which I had some control. I had a vision of myself wearing my new purple sweater on my birthday in the middle of September, and I was intent on making it come true.
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W.I.P.
My new project is actually a partial do-over of a sweater I started last July, and it represents one of the two excusable exceptions to my rule of always completing my w.i.p. before casting on for the next project.

I started it in a lovely raspberry-colored yarn called "dark rose heather." It was planned as a drop-shoulder crewneck knit in stockinette stitch, and its one attraction and challenge is the edging: "2x2 rib with traveling cables," found in Nicky Epstein's incomparable Knitting on the Edge. I completed the whole body, including a neckband in the same cable pattern, and finished half a sleeve before accepting that my original design would never exist beyond my imagination. I could live in a state of dye lot denial no longer: despite having the same color name, the new skein just didn't match. Something must be done. I put the whole thing aside for another, wiser day.

Purls of Wisdom
From Nicky Epstein's Knitting on the Edge: "As a knitter, I was always fascinated with edgings and borders and the beautiful enhancement that they give to every knitted piece. I think of them as a lovely extension and crowning touch to a knitted design--the icing on the cake, the extra dimension that lends distinction, the piece de resistance that can turn your work into a 'show-stopper.' "

Tomorrow:

• Knitting memories.
• I begin the front of my second ugly sweater.
• Current w.i.p.: The Cheerful Knitter attempts to make lemonade out of a lemon of a sweater.

The Cheerful Knitter Bares Nothing But Her Soul

Bare that what????????
Keen to employ all that I had learned and more zealous than ever to commit new "learning oportunities," I found a pattern I liked in The Yarn Girls' Guide to Simple Knits. It looked like it would offer me new challenges (v-neck, set-in sleeves) combined with some familiar, confidence-building elements (stockinette stitch, ribbing). The only sticky wicket was the name of the pattern, "Bare That Belly." The sweater was a cropped style, designed by the Yarn Girls to be short enough to show off their friend's new belly button piercing.

The Cheerful Knitter finds it necessary to briefly refer to herself in the third person.
The Cheerful Knitter did not happen to have a belly button piercing, nor a desire to bare her belly for any other reason. The Cheerful Knitter has, as a matter of fact, given birth to two children and retains a charming, old-fashioned modesty with regard to her personal appearance that in her opinion befits a churchgoing lady of her position, and for which she makes no apology. The Cheerful Knitter decided to ignore the pattern's name and knit the sweater several inches longer.

Beginner's Luck with Gauge
My "Baroque" yarn was easy on the eyes, subtly twisting together strands of cornflower blue, raspberry, and a color that made me remember brittle purple lollipops wrapped in crackling cellophane. It happened to be just the right thickness to achieve the necessary gauge with the recommended needle sizes, 9 for the ribbing and 10 1/2 for the body. "What's all this fuss about gauge I keep reading about?" I wondered. It augured well for the sweater's success, and I earnestly set to work.

Although I had seen how the lack of selvedge stitches caused an interruption of the ribbing pattern after seaming my first sweater, I followed the pattern and worked K3, P3 over 60 stitches. Then I switched to the larger needles and began the plain knitting of the back, looking forward to shaping armholes for the first time.
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As Promised
As soon as I read about i-cord, I couldn't wait to make some. The only problem was that at the time I had no such thing as a double-pointed or circular needle on hand. After studying the illustrations, however, I saw no reason why this intriguing stuff could not be created just as easily on single-pointed straight needles. In fact, I think my method is even easier.
Here is how I do it:

1. Cast on 3 or 4 stitches as usual.
2. Knit the first row.
3. Pull the whole row off the needle, turn it around, and replace it on the needle in reverse order.
4. Repeat steps 2 & 3 until impelled to stop by hunger, children, or the need for a bathroom break (or, most urgent of all, hungry children who also need your help in the bathroom).

There is no need to fear either dropping your stitches or becoming obsessed. I have made miles of i-cord and never dropped a stitch, and i-cord addiction tends to be self-limiting once you have fashioned all the new purse straps, tote bag handles, curtain tie-backs, and Christmas tree garland you and your neighbors will ever need.

W.I.P.
It's a sweater!!!!!!!! Jubilation! I finished the last few inches of sleeve seam and wove in a few final ends this morning, put it on, and I'm never taking it off!

My new sweater is a set-in sleeve style with a rolled collar, and it's exactly the right length. The design is a sampler, combining stitch patterns of hearts, trees, diamonds, a few cables just for vanity's sake, and one prominent snowflake. All of the patterns show up so well in the beige color.

This sweater represents many "firsts" for me: the first time I've worked with 100% wool; the first time I've eschewed any kind of ribbed edgings; the first time I've knitted in the round (just the neckband--I'll never give up my straight needles). It was also the first time I've used graph paper to plan the various patterns' placement. I even designed my own (dead simple) diamond pattern when I couldn't find one to fit into my stitch count.

Are there aspects of designing and knitting this sweater I would approach differently next time around? Of course. This sweater has its own lessons to teach me, like all of its predecessors. But this is not the time for nitpicking or analysis. This is the time to savour the result of my hard work and be satisfied.

This is also the time to get right to work on my next sweater! Lovely though it may be, beige is beige. Rose heather and raspberry will be a welcome change.

Purls of Wisdom
From Barbara Walker's A Treasury of Knitting Patterns: "After you have mastered a number of new patterns, you will never want to return to the drab tedium of "plain knitting." You will develop ideas for combining two, three, four or more different patterns in your own way, to produce effects that no one has ever produced before; and herein lies the thrill of making a garment that is uniquely your own."

Tomorrow:

• The second ugly sweater proceeds apace.
• What will the cheerful knitter knit next?

Ten Ugly Sweaters

Practice Child
Why did it take me so long to complete one little girl-sized sweater? It's a fair question. I might blame it on my summer fling with a sweet seed-stitch purse pattern, (fueled by a justifiable addiction to i-cord), but to be honest, what slowed me down was my own insecurities. Knitting my first real sweater was like my first pregnancy. Exciting, to be sure, but doubt inevitably creeps into an expectant woman's thoughts. Am I ready for the challenges ahead? Do I know enough? Wouldn't it be wiser to put off the difficult parts a little longer?

Despite all of my apprehensions, I delivered my first-born. (He determined his own schedule and was 2 weeks early.) And, despite all of my dilly-dallying, I finished the sweater.

Knitting a beautiful, well-made sweater was a goal that I did not expect to achieve during my first crack at bat. Sweater-knitting isn't like parenting, in which even the practice child can somehow turn out to be quite serviceable. When I embarked on my sweater quest, I gave myself permission to knit at least 10 ugly sweaters before producing something even an impartial critic would look at and say, "What a nice sweater! Can I borrow it?" And by heaven, I have kept to my bargain, producing some truly hideous stuff. I don't think I could have learned more any other way, or had more fun.

Taming the Fox
So why was that ghastly orange sweater so beautiful to me? Why did I gently fold it and place it lovingly in a protective storage box when it proved to be unwearable? Why will I always treasure it? In Antoine de Saint-Exupery's The Little Prince, the fox explains to the prince why his rose is so special to him. " 'It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye...It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.' "

My first sweater was more than a too-short garment with tight armholes knit at the wrong gauge. It was time, love, hope, and dreams. Wouldn't you save it forever, too?

Lessons Learned From My First Ugly Sweater

1. Going down 3 needle sizes from the one recommended on the yarn label is probably too many, and I shouldn't have been surprised when it turned out a bit thick.
2. If you knit at a very tight gauge, you're going to need more yarn.
3. You should buy all the yarn you might need for a project at the same time, as "Coral Gables" in one dye lot can mean something very different from "Coral Gables" in another dye lot.
4. After seaming ribbing, the stitch pattern is interrupted if you don't include selvedge stitches.
5. It's a good idea to cast on for a sleeve using a bigger needle so the wrist is not too tight. Binding off the neckband on a bigger needle is also advisable for the same reason.
6. Neckband stitches should be picked up a little in from the edge to avoid holes.
7. An armhole opening needs to be bigger than you might think if you want the wearer of the sweater to enjoy a full range of motion.
8. There is a time lag between sweater planning and completion. Rocket scientists anticipate the moon's position at the time of the rocket's arrival; they do not aim at where the moon is when the rocket departs from Earth. Children are apt to grow, and it's best to allow for this when considering measurements.

My Second Ugly Sweater

After a suitable interval for reflection, it was time to plan my next project. Thanks to my discovery of the Yarn Girls' book, I felt ready to tackle a set-in sleeve, v-neck style. I would use familiar, reliable stockinette stitch for the body and ribbing at the edges, a sure-fire combination if ever there was one. This time, however, I would be my own lab rat and knit it to my own measurements.

I harbored no ill will toward the yarn for the shortcomings of my daughter's sweater, and I loved the huge selection of colors it came in. I decided to use the same yarn for my second sweater, this time in a shade of purple called "Baroque."

W.I.P.

Left sleeve finished and bound off, waiting to be sewn to sweater. After that I need a nice, long, snowy Sunday afternoon for the long side seams and weaving in all the ends. There might be cocoa involved. Studies show that the anticipation of a blissful activity is as stress-reducing as the activity itself.

Purls of Wisdom
From Elizabeth Zimmermann's Knitting Without Tears: "Really, all you need to become a good knitter are wool, needles, hands, and slightly below-average intelligence. Of course, superior intelligence, such as yours and mine, is an advantage."

Tomorrow:

• I begin my second ugly sweater
• How to knit i-cord on single-pointed straight needles
• Will my w.i.p. be a sweater yet?

The Most Beautiful Ugly Sweater

A journey of eighteen inches begins with a single row.
My first people-sized sweater project loomed before me like a climb up the stairs of a lighthouse. However, I cherished the mental image I held of my lovely daughter attired in a warm and pretty sweater I had created just for her, and I persevered.

The hem ribbing was completed quickly; confidence was high. With unflagging enthusiasm I began the long journey up the 18" of the sweater's back section.

Even a rookie can have a good idea.
Now, I am the first to admit that I committed many rookie mistakes (I mean, learning opportunities) with this sweater, but there was one thing that I thought of doing all by myself that saved me a lot of trouble. I kept track of how many rows I knitted for the back so that I could knit the front exactly the same length. A simple tally sheet is all it took. This is such an efficient trick that I am continually surprised that I have never seen it suggested in any book on knitting techniques and timesavers. By matching the sections by number of rows, I avoided relying on measuring, which always seems to give me no more than a possible length range, depending on how much I inadvertently stretch the piece as I smooth it.

The calendar pages flip...
Waiting through karate classes, baseball games, end-of-year talent show rehearsals, and swimming classes, I doggedly worked on the sweater. Did stockinette stitch become tedious? Occasionally, but mostly I was reassured by its repetitiveness. Did I grow weary of the color? Very quickly. Did I buy a size 8 circular needle and knit back and forth with it for a while, just to shake things up? Yes, but I have always been one for the wild side of life. Was I gratified when someone would ask me what I was doing and I could reply not just that I was knitting, but that I was knitting a sweater for my daughter? Always. I attempted to convert many non-knitters, assuring all who showed a glimmer of interest that it was not at all difficult and in fact, was extremely enjoyable. Puzzlement and disbelief were the usual responses. Sometimes, all you can do is plant the seed.

Yarn Girls, I love you!
Continuing to divide my free time between knitting and reading about knitting, I chanced upon what I still consider to be the best book a novice sweater knitter could read: The Yarn Girls' Guide to Simple Knits. For those who may not know, the Yarn Girls are Julie Carles and Jordana Jacobs, owners of the New York City knitting store the Yarn Company. They are also the authors of a growing number of common-sense, beautifully photographed knitting books. Their "Step-By-Step Guide to Shaping the Crewneck" gives row by row directions that elucidate what other knitting books obfuscate. Their simple and clear explanations of sewing-up techniques are logical; their diagrams are readable.

Their "Step-By-Step Guide to Shaping the Armholes" inspired me to believe that one day I could graduate from dropped shoulders to better-fitting set-in-sleeve styles. In fact, I did this with my very next project. I will be eternally grateful to the Yarn Girls for providing some essential scaffolding.

A little tight, a little short.
Carefully following the guide's directions and illustrations, I joined back, front, and sleeve sections into an actual sweater. Magic. Just as a mother sees nothing but perfection personified in her squalling newborn child, I was blind to the holes around the picked-up neckband stitches and the lumpy seams. My newly completed sweater was beautiful.

The moment of truth came as my daughter tried on the sweater for the first time (in her air-conditioned room, as it was now August). Who knew a 10-year-old could grow so much in 7 months?

W.I.P.

Did I complete my sleeve cap? Almost. I have only about a dozen quickly diminishing rows to go, which I hope to finish during my daughter's violin lesson today.

What does theoretical physics have to do with knitting?

Richard Feynman, professor of physics at Caltech and winner of the Nobel Prize, was never afraid to explore new fields. He took drawing classes, joined a Brazilian samba band, and became an autodidactic safecracker, among other notable adventures. His refusal to meet the expectations of people with firm ideas about how a scientist should behave allowed him to have a great deal of fun, and may have contributed to his work in unfathomable ways. I find his entertaining biographies to be models of how to become more creative through taking risks.

Purls of Wisdom

From Stephanie Pearl-McPhee Casts Off: The Yarn Harlot's Guide to the Land of Knitting: "Knitting...can transform lives, open doors, and teach you new things...and is every bit as transformative as any other journey of learning. "

Tomorrow:

• Lessons learned from my first ugly sweater
• The second ugly sweater: definitely not orange!
• Will that sleeve cap be finished?

My First Ugly Sweater

"I'm just breathing!"
Still giddy from the qualified success of Sam's sweater, I dragged my daughter off to the l.y.s. during Christmas vacation week to choose yarn for my next project. My daughter was 10 years old at the time, still young enough to go shopping with Mom without emitting that impatient exhalation that angries up my blood so often these days. The next sweater would be made in her size, in a color of her choosing.

Simple sweaters are best.
Not yet daring to venture into the heady realm of set-in sleeves, it was to be a drop-shoulder, stockinette stitch crewneck with 2x2 ribbing at hem, cuffs, and neckband.

Surprisingly, she gravitated toward a yarn that did not nauseate me--"Coral Gables." From a distance it was a soft orange, but upon closer scrutiny strands of fuschia and yellow were evident. We were both enchanted. It was acrylic, which was fine with me, since the label also proclaimed it was machine washable and dryable. (I have no fiber snobbery; I will knit with anything as long as it's soft.) Content in my ignorance of dye lots or yardage requirements, I gathered up 3 thick, loaf-shaped skeins, which seemed like it should be enough to knit any normal sweater.

Even though the label recommended size 10 1/2 needles to achieve 14 sts over 4", I somehow took a fancy that this would produce too flimsy a fabric. Well, maybe I just wanted to buy new needles. I decided on size 8, which happened to only come in electric metallic blue. I didn't even consider how jarring this would be flashing through orange yarn...row after row...week after week...as it would turn out, month after month.

With a smugness I can only shake my head at now, I knitted a gauge swatch, measured, calculated, and cast on.

W.I.P.
Right sleeve sewn to shoulder, much better length than left sleeve. Like Superman reversing the Earth's rotation to turn back time and revivify Lois Lane, I quickly removed the left sleeve and frogged the sleeve cap, yanking length after length of wool with determination. Keeping my wits firmly about me as I erased the final offending rows, my yanking slowed to a cautious tinking as I placed live stitches on the needle. Breathing a sigh of relief after counting the stitches twice, just to make sure none had been lost, I began to reknit the sleeve cap.

Purls of Wisdom
From Elizabeth Zimmermann's Knitting Without Tears:
"Properly practiced, knitting soothes the troubled spirit, and it doesn't hurt the untroubled spirit either."

Tomorrow:

• More about my first ugly sweater
• How the Yarn Girls inspired me
• Why Richard Feynman is my favorite theoretical physicist
• Will I have finished my sleeve cap?

First, Clothe the Teddy Bears

Starting Small
The first sweater I attempted to knit was for my very special friend, Sam. Sam is a teddy bear whose wardrobe was limited to a satin ribbon bow tie, and his diminutive size and accommodating forbearance made him the perfect model for my first effort. Having no "measurements from a well-fitting sweater" to base my pattern on, I slipped a tape measure around the stoutest section of Sam's tummy, took a wild guess at gauge, and cast on 28 stitches.

Thank you, Nanny.
I had found several balls of unlabeled navy yarn in the stash I inherited from my grandmother, and this along with a skein of some very thick white and denim marled acrylic promised to become a garment suitable in color and style to complement Sam's mahogany fur and pensive nature.

As for needles, I used the size 10 1/2 aluminum straights that had seen me through my recent scarves, hats, and cats. It's easy to choose when you only have one pair.

Are armhole openings mandatory?
I had been poring over patterns detailing sweater construction, but being weak in the spatial relations department, I couldn't properly visualize how the pieces fit together. I knew that it was time to try it out with my own hands.

The sweater back was no problem--4 rows of double rib and 4 rows of stockinette in navy, a thick stripe of the lighter color, 4 more rows of navy, and bind off. It was so simple it could have been a bedspread for Barbie's ski chalet.

Next, I knitted the sleeves. Only 2 rows of navy ribbing and 2 rows of navy stockinette before changing colors. (Sam has typical stubby bear arms.) After joining the light blue, I increased at each end of every right side row 3 times. The only increase I knew was knitting into the front and back of the stitch, and I didn't understand the importance of doing increases 1 or 2 stitches from the edge. I also didn't know any sewing up techniques, so my bumpy edges were of no consequence.

Work same as back until...
Saving the most confusing part for last, I finally started the sweater front. Why does every sweater pattern word the front neck shaping instructions the same? "Working both sides at the same time..." This had me completely confounded. How could I work both sides at once? My solution to this conundrum was to knit one side, cut the yarn, and rejoin it at the other side of the neck opening in order to knit the rest of the row for the opposite neck edge.

Sure, it was sloppy and left me with a ridiculous number of ends to weave in, but Sam wouldn't mind a little lumpiness around his collar, and since I was knitting this at around 11:45 pm on New Year's Eve with only my husband, 2 sleepy children, and a variety of pets nearby, non-knitters all, I had no one to show me how to do it properly. Doing it wrong was the only way for me to learn. The absurdity of the approach I tried made me realize that this method was probably not what all the authors of these instructions had in mind.

Excellence is an Attitude
Clumsily, I sewed the pieces together and slipped my first sweater over Sam's head. With a little stretching over the biceps and a little bunching around the neck, it fit beautifully. I was simultaneously embarassed at my naivete and childishly proud of my handiness.

I was also determined not to repeat the same mistakes on my next sweater, vowing to commit a fresh batch of blunders next time and thus, learn even more.

W.I. P.
Right sleeve complete, waiting to be sewn to right shoulder to test length. I've never knit 2 sleeves different lengths before, but I've learned (the hard way, of course) to try on my projects at every possible intermediate stage. Also, I like this sweater enough that I can tolerate the idea of needing to re-knit part of a sleeve to increase the chances that it will be wearable.

I find that sleeve caps are one of the most rewarding parts of sweaters, anyway. After so much uphill work for the sleeve to become wide enough, binding off and decreasing continually is like sledding down a not-too-precipitous hill with a soft snow bank in sight at the bottom.

Purls of Wisdom
From Barbara Walker's introduction to A Treasury of Knitting Patterns:
"There is something in every human soul which seeks to create a thing of beauty, given any sort of opportunity and materials to do so."

Welcome!

I've been knitting sweaters for about 3 years now, and it's been a fascinating journey. Not only have I gained technical sweater-knitting skills, I have also learned to have more patience, persistence, and hope. If you are also a knitter, perhaps you are in one of the following "stages of knitting development":

• the only projects you have made are scarves


• you have only used garter or stockinette stitch


• you find sweater patterns intimidating as they seem to assume you have previous experience knitting sweaters


• you are reluctant to commit to knitting a sweater because it is such a long-term, high-risk project

I was in your shoes. I loved to knit and I love a challenge, but after months of making scarves with stripes and lace (which I attempted because I didn't know it was supposed to be difficult) and going on a brief jag of making stuffed stockinette stitch cats, I realized that I would never be satisfied until I learned to knit sweaters.

Knitting a sweater from start to finish was my knitting ideal. It was the epitome of knitting accomplishments, sure to bring me joy, warmth, and admiration.

I headed to the library and came home with half a dozen books of sweater patterns that were all much too difficult for me. Matching increases and decreases? Center neck bind-0ff? Mattress stitch? It was all gibberish to me. So I headed back to the library and found a few more elementary books, and I kept reading until it all began to make sense.

I've continued reading and re-reading knitting books, and I've kept knitting sweaters and learning the whole time. The rules I've followed are:

1. I never knit a sweater exactly as the pattern dictates. I haven't done this intentionally--I just always seem to need longer sleeves or a wider neck opening. Also, I've never used the recommended yarn. I make affordable substitutions.


2. I always completely finish making up my w.i.p before casting on for the next one. As tempting as it is to start a new project while the previous sweater is still in pieces in a plastic bag in the closet, I realized that I would learn more by completing and trying on each sweater before starting a new one. (There have been 2 excusable exceptions to this rule.) This rule does not, however, stop me from planning and making lists of all the stitch patterns, colors, and styles I want to use in future projects.

W.I.P.

My current w.i.p. is a beige wool sampler sweater displaying a variety of stitch patterns on the front and back and a simple pattern of purl dots on the sleeves. Both shoulders are sewn together, the neckband is complete, and the left sleeve is sewn to the shoulder. However, after trying it on at this stage, I observed that this sleeve is too long. (Sleeve length is always a tricky issue for me.) I plan to knit the right sleeve about an inch shorter, sew it to the right shoulder, and as long as this looks better, I'll remove the left sleeve, frog the sleeve cap and the extra rows, and re-knit it to match the right sleeve.

FELLOW KNITTERS AND NON-KNITTERS ALIKE--

• Join me as I review my past sweater knitting journey.
• Follow along on my future knitting adventures.
• Share your own knitting stories, reflections, tips, tricks, and questions.

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