Maybe that's why we generally get on so well? Because knitting chews up and spits out divas. Sure, lots of strong willed women out there knitting. Lots of creative, dynamic, driven - nay, obsessive knitters out there. But not truly egotistical. Because anyone who knits for any period of time gets their rear kicked occasionally. We learn to accept our mistakes, own them, and fix them. We curse in our chosen language and at our chosen comfort level, then we rip back, pick up the needles and try again. Excess ego gets left on the floor with the drifting fuzz (if one is ripping yards of Noro). This is also why I think we all deserve to hoot, howl and shout from the rooftops when we get it right. We earn our successes.
If surviving fiber challenges makes one stronger, then I am training for a marathon! I've got three, count em three sweaters in some stage of crisis right now. Before you scroll down craning your necks for a fiber wreck, I should say that I'm very hopeful regarding the final outcome of each of these projects. OK, pretty hopeful. Solstice is approaching, so I keep telling myself this is just the dark before the light, the winter before the spring. But I need to get a move on with fixes, because my short sweater season is upon me.
Case 1: Cornelia Tuttle Hamilton's Skeppsta from her Noro Revisited book knitted in Noro Transitions
Got an extreme bargain on this yarn over the summer. I've always wanted to try it, but that $20+ price tag put me off. Now I have 10 balls in a color way I adore and I'm determined to have a new sweater by Christmas. Responsibly swatched, got gauge, then cast on with 8mm needles for a jacket, but after an evening's knitting I felt the striping was too narrow. This was not going to be flattering across the rear. Frog time.
Locked in on Skeppsta. The long panels would allow the colors to build nicely and I really like the almost-cables. Swatched, got gauge and cast on with 9 mm needles. Easy-peasy short-row wedges that really let the colors and fiber changes sing. I'd found my yarn/pattern match. Glanced at the pattern once or twice and I was rolling. Little error in the pattern that I figured out on my own, no problem. Love it.
Hum, but, what's wrong here? Mine doesn't look like the one in the book (middle of photo below). Those are definitely two rows of purl ridges, but I'm somehow I'm only getting one (on right). Look at the pattern again. Very carefully knit another wedge. Nope, one ridge. To make a ridge you've got to either purl on the right side or knit on the wrong and the wedges are constructed in stockinette short rows - no ridges there. Hummm. Examine the pattern and photos again and again. Hum, there's one single-ridge wedge near the bottom of a strip in one photo (not visible here) - that must be proof that originally the wedges had one ridge, but she changed it when knitting without updating the pattern. (please don't make me explain that leap) It's OK I say magnanimously, we all make on the fly fixes that we forget to note. Maybe I have a rouge, unrevised first edition? Yeah, that must be it! Search internet for errata and confirm that little fix I did on my own but no other issues. Even wrote an email to the designer inquiring about revisions (oh, the shame). Look on Ravelry and the handful on there look perfect. So I'll just fix it. Add a stockinette row at the top of each wedge, then an extra ridge row and it looks great(the plain row is required so you finish on the correct side for the next wedge).
This is the time dear reader when you roll your eyes - how can our heroine be such a twit? If this wasn't a true story you would say that your suspension of disbelief was compromised in this absence of logical knitterly behavior. I mean really, how often is the pattern that wrong, especially with photographic evidence of other people successfully completing said pattern? The conspiracy theory of getting the only unrevised copy of the pattern is so pathetic - so desperate!
I finished the strip with the extra 10 rows show (on left). It looked right again the pattern photo, but was worrisomely long.
Now comfortably snuggled down in first class on the denial train, I decided it was because of the larger needle size. Last night I knit yet another strip (thank goodness they're fast) with the 8mm needles, but after cast off it still seemed far too long. It was 10:30 at night and I was three strips into this fiasco when I forced myself to ask the question again ... how could you get a second ridge without adding the rows. DUHHHHHH. The very last row of short rows is straight across all the stitches except for a slipped stitch at the beginning. In that second I knew. I would have bet my house on what I would see when I opened the book and really looked at the pattern. There it was. That little "k" where there had been a "p" in previous rows. The pattern is so easy that after the first two short rows I just glanced at the number of stitches to work before turning, but didn't really read each line. Easy mistake, but I suspect most people would have found their issue a tad sooner. Certainly before three strips! Humbled I am. It's all ripped now and I'll start over tonight. I am determined. I will prevail.
Next time: Mr Greenjeans and Juliet - the odd couple with top down problems.
