Smaller than my Briar Rose shawl, I still think this is a great size for a shawl. Scarflette. Whatever. It's bright (almost to a fault), but I think that's what us Michiganders really need at the end of April. Snow, mud, bare trees? Enough, already! Electric yellow daffodils, neon forsythia, vibrant, spring green.....bring on the color.
And in small doses, neon can actually be rather fetching. Am I wrong?
Seaming, sleeve-setting-in and what it looks like when the yarn breaks mid-skein at the Noro spinning mill and they splice bright blue with red. Design feature, anyone?
1x1 rib button band. I sew my buttons on with embroidery floss--NEVER with yarn.
And actually, the sweater does fit. It is a cropped, fitted sweater, so while a few inches of length and maybe two more inches of ease would make me feel a little less like a sausage more comfortable, it fits exactly as the pattern schematics describe. Who knew?
This is the left front--the back is done. Size 10.75 plus chunky tweed plus Sundays off equals mad, mad knitting marathon.
With a little time-out for spinning, of course. (Fiber purchased from Birds Nest Yarns. This may be my most favorite spin yet. I mean it this time.)
On an entirely unrelated subnote, try adding 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon to your next chili recipe. So. Dang. Good. In my house, it went over so well that his exact words were, "This is the chili we're going to feed our future children."
Pretend this isn't the worst picture you've ever seen.
I know the sweater isn't done. While, sure, I could stand to lose a few pounds (working on it!), it is much. Too. Small. Thing is, when I swatched--twice, mind you--my gauge was off. Off enough (more than 2 sts per 4 inches) to make some accomodations. I figured (with an actual calculator--thanks, Cindy!) that if I just knit the next smaller size, I would end up around the size that I wanted--the 38" finished bust.
Turns out, my gauge was spot on. 18 sts per 4 inches. Exactly.
So now, the sweater that I thought would fit--because I knit the smaller size--is actually too small. Go figure.
How about another round of Whatever Can Go Wrong, Will?
Can you identify the major disaster in this photo?
In this pattern, you knit each of the pieces--the right front, the left front, the back and each of the sleeves--as you normally would, sew them together (again, as you normally would), and then knit the bands separately, stitching them down after they're knit, easing to fit. This is done because they're knit on two needle sizes smaller than the rest of the sweater. That part isn't hard. Actually, there isn't anything about this sweater that was hard. It was brilliantly written. Entirely error-free. I set each of the sleeves in perfectly the first time, which never happens to me. My seaming is rather spectacular, if I do say so myself.
(Insert dastardly music here.)
In the upper righthand corner of the photo is the center back of the neck, the place where you join the two front bands. In the lefthand side of the photo is where I've stopped knitting. And that mini ball of yarn there? That's all I have left.
Technically, I haven't run out. There's more on the shelf, in the very same dyelot. Heck, I own the place--I can break open a new ball whenever I want to, especially for a shop sample. I was just hoping that I could knit the entire sweater from eight balls of Kureyon. In light of everything that's happening all over the world right now, complaining about needing an additional twelve yards of yarn seems a tad shallow, if not completely irrelevant to Life, which I am not ashamed to admit.
The shameful part is the fact that I knew--I just knew--that this is the very sort of thing that happens when you announce to the Universe that you can knit a sweater in two weeks.
Let me just say that this sweater began with all good intentions. Most do.
There was a tape measure. A pattern. Desire, even, to knit an entire adult sweater with sock yarn. The problem, as it happens, originated with the swatch. You see, I had a shadow of a doubt in my mind from the moment I cast on. A doubt that I shoved to the back of my closet with that sweater, and that one, and a bunch of other things that go bump in the night. My gauge was a little off and I pressed on.
And on this day, let it be known that no half-assed swatch goes unpunished.
The main thought before beginning this epic journey was, You know, that's a lovely sweater. A lovely fitted sweater. And while I like the Up North Uniform just as much as the next gal (insert image of an oversized, shapeless sweater here), those aren't the knits I pull on when I want to look good. The most flattering sweaters to wear--and those that I reach for most often--are well-fitting cardigans, with a little waist shaping, knit at a fine gauge. (Hey, if I could wear my ratty Stanford sweatshirt with the cutoff neckline and age-worn elbows to work every day, I would. I just don't happen to work at CoffeeWorld anymore.)
Fitted sweater. Noro yarn. Size 1 needles. You with me?
This sweater can be knit in six sizes and I chose the middle size, the one that finishes at 35 1/2", which are my actual bust measurements. As I said, the primary goal was to create a fitted sweater. If you look at the pattern schematic, you would see that, for the middle size, the back should measure at 17 3/4" across.
This is what happens when "a little off" translates across an entire sweater. Three inches of added girth--and that's just on the back.
I should probably be the one to tell you, in case you (like me) fell asleep through the entire Elementary Component of the University of Chicago School Mathematics Project, that 6.5 is never, ever, EVER going to equal 7.25. Not by wishing, not by hoping, not by fudging, not by eyeballing, not with a surreptitious felting, not by immaculate conception.
It can't be helped now, Jack. Wiser words were never spoken, Dorothy.This is the end of the road for us, beautiful Noro sweater number 16. Pictured above is approximately 35 hours of knitting on 2.5 mm needles.