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."