Nine days. A whole jumper, from cast on to sewing up done in nine days. Booyah! There is something to be said for large-gauge knitting, and that something is that it's quick. There's something else to be said of it: OW OW OW. My wrists and shoulders don't much like speed demon knitting on 8mm needles, at least not so much of it, in so short a time. Proving, once again, I should never make any assumptions about what it is I like until I've had plenty of experience with it, it turns out all that lovely bulky and chunky yarn I bought so much of last year (but it was ON SALE!) is going to be a bit of a problem to use up, not because it isn't gorgeous, but because it seems I like smaller gauge knitting quite a bit more than I thought I would. I'm not going to give it away, god forbid, or not use it, again, god forbid, but my future yarn-buying decisions will be somewhat more informed.
It is great yarn, though, and that jumper is far nicer than that snapshot indicates. I have no regrets, especially since it's made from Rowan Plaid, purchased at half price at the John Lewis summer sale. It's amazingly soft and lofty, and if plied a little loosely, it's ok, because it didn't give me much trouble at all. There's something like 30% acrylic content in it, but you'd never know, and trust me, I have some pretty damned exacting standards when it comes to acceptable amounts of acrylic. It was so very soft and springy to knit, and after blocking it with a good soak in cold water and a tad of fabric conditioner, it got even softer and springier. It's going to be a very warm sweater, but it's also quite lightweight, and I do hope my mother-in-law, whose Christmas gift it is to be, will like it. It's definitely her style -- neutral colour, high-ish collar.
One of the nicest things about knitting is that I can make sweaters that I think are beautiful, but know full well would look absolutely terrible on me, because I can give them to somebody they will flatter. I would look like hell in that sweater; my shoulders and bust are too big for that style, and the larger gauge wouldn't do me any favours. I can rock a V-neck, a cardigan, a scoop or a square neckline, but crewnecks and turtlenecks are not a good thing on me. The Wall of Bosom effect is one I'd just as soon not display.
Finishing the HCOH, and a couple of other languishing projects did so much for my self-confidence. One, I learned I actually can be persistent with this knitting thing, and I can finish a project I'm hating if I want it bad enough. Two, I learned to trust my instincts when it comes to dicking with patterns; I didn't like the stitch pattern originally called for on that cardigan, so I just went ahead and changed it, having faith in my own taste, and my ability to, you know, do the maths. Three, I now believe I could go ahead and make something without a pattern, if I wanted to, and I will be wanting to someday soon. Using patterns has been a terrific help in teaching me how to knit. I get basic construction; I know when to choose an ssk and when to choose a k2tog when shaping a neckline, and yeah, it's just right/left slant, but the point is, I would've been afraid of an instruction like "knit other side of neck, reversing shapings" until just recently, because what the hell does that mean? Well, I know now, and I also know what to do if the only instruction I'm given is to increase/decrease one stitch at each edge. Even three months ago, I'd have gone into a panic -- HOW? WHICH STITCH DO I USE? HELP! -- but now, no problem.
One final example of my increasing self-confidence: tonight, as I was cooking dinner, Phil came into the kitchen, wearing the first jumper I ever knit. This is not an unusual thing to happen, because he wears that sweater all the time. I have to wait until he goes out of town for a few days to wash it. Anyway, I noticed that the cast-off edge of the neck had a break in it, and it had laddered down a couple of rows, unsurprising, because Phil loves and appreciates that jumper, but he's kinda hard on clothing he loves. One too many times jerked over his head, and bam, something gives.
Instead of freaking out, because my precious first jumper has a hole in it, I thought, hmm, I never was completely satisfied with that collar, anyway. Now I can rip it back, pick up the, er, right number of stitches (I picked up about seven too many, and by then, it was like the twelfth time I'd tried it, and I was too tired to do it YET AGAIN, so I went with it) and do it much better this time. I made him take it off, and I'll frog the collar later, and knit a new one. I am totally unafraid of doing this, and you know why? Because of all those bloody stitches I picked up on that bloody Log Cabin blanket, that's why. No painful knitting lesson is wasted.
