Something to Blog About

In avoiding the Pit Of Despair (and lack of blog-fodder) that is the pseudo-Prairie Blanket, I have managed to weave in the last of those ends:






Dulaan 2007, Item #8.

I am going to keep the mismatched ribbing -- don't think it looks all that bad, and I'm really anxious to move on to other things.

Here's a closer shot of the yoke pattern:





This was done free-style, sort of like knitted doodling. (Very fun.)

As for the rest of the "pattern," I think it went quite well. I have a few nits, but these are problems I have with my own choices (don't think the 2x2 ribbing at the neck quite works) more than with Zimmerman's directions.

I do think that if I did another yoke-type sweater, I would try distributing the yoke decreases a little more evenly. Zimmerman suggests three rows of relatively dramatic decreases. Instead, I would decrease fewer stitches over more rows. As it is, when laid flat, I have some puckering in the yoke. I suppose this might be necessary to a good fit, but I think it more likely that it might be reduced somewhat (without harm) by a different pattern of decreases. I just can't tell whether it is a feature or a bug. (I lack a person of appropriate size to test this.)

When I joined the underarms, I did get loose areas (we won't call them holes) at either side of each underarm. I solved this by reinforcing a little with the darning needle. There might have been a better way to deal with it, but I think it looks fine:





Finally, Zimmerman's false seams are just brilliant. They do help immensely with the blocking. And, although I was a bit worried that they would look awkward, it turns out that they are hardly noticable:






(There's one going straight through the photo -- I know it's there, and I still have a hard time seeing it.)

Stalled

Now this is just silly.

A mere 13 more stitches to graft:





And no more than 2 dozen ends to weave in:





A little washing, a little blocking, and the entire sweater would be done.

The whole thing couldn't possibly take more than two hours.

But I just can't bring myself to do it.

Blech.

Now the Fun Begins

Sleeves (up to the armholes) are both done, attached, and now we're onto the yoke.

So I figure this guy is at least half done.

Maybe more.

Probably not less.

But I prefer the feeling I have about the doneness of this sweater -- i.e., uncertainty -- to the usually inevitable feeling of euphoria-followed-by-betrayal.

Yes, yes. Uncertainty is much better.

Probably you notice that the ribbing on the sleeves does not match the ribbing on the body.

I could tell you that this is part of my "total knitting freedom" theory, and that I fully intend to stick with this little bit of wackiness.

But that wouldn't exactly be the truth.

The truth is that while I was knitting the body, I decided I really didn't like the contrasting ribbing. Have vague plans to cut off the body ribbing when I'm otherwise done, and then pick up stitches to re-knit. Re-rib. Whatever.

So I don't really have plans to leave it as-is.

I'm not quite that cool.

(I may, however, be that lazy.)

No Such Place

You've heard of it, right?

Sleeve Island.

Marooned on Sleeve Island.

That place where knitters the blogosphere over find themselves once they've finished the backs and the fronts of their sweaters. The sweater is practically done.

Only it isn't really.

It only seemed that way.

Before the sleeves were started.

Because, as it turns out, they really aren't that small. (Why does it always end this way?)

Once we cast on the sleeves, the depth of our folly becomes entirely clear. It isn't even that the sweater is no-where near done. It is that the sweater has no end. It is Interminable.

Nowadays, I try to deal with this by doing the sleeves first. Ideally, I would do the sleeves first, then the front(s), then the back.

Because even I couldn't fool myself into thinking the sweater is practically done if the back hasn't been started.

In practice, though, I generally do the back first (can't resist), then a sleeve. And then the front and the remaining sleeve duke it out for last place.

Or (more often) I choose a pattern with very small sleeves. Or no sleeves at all.

Clever me!

And in this backwards manner, I've steered clear.

But the Island always remains out there . . . because there's always the risk that I will leave the sleeves to the last and run aground.

But check this out:




In Elizabeth Zimmerman's seamless yoke sweater, you start with the body as usual. You do the front and back simultaneously, in the round.

But before you can get too far -- before you can even approach a feeling of substantial progress -- you have to do the sleeves.

I repeat: You have to do the sleeves -- both of them -- up to the underarms, anyway -- before you can go any further.

NO SLEEVE ISLAND.

No awful feelings of helplessness and despair.

Sure, you still have to do the sleeves. (No way around that.) But you're not stuck.

There is a very clear route back home.

And the way isn't so far.

Sleeve Island?

No such place.

It's more like Sleeve Isthmus.

There Are Only So Many Hats a Girl Can Take

Between the Cloud hats and the baby fruit hats . . . let's just say I'm all hatted out for now.

But I have a new idea.

I want some practice making sweaters before I jump further into designing the Blue Sweater for He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.

I've never made a seamless sweater.

I think a seamless sweater would probably be the bestest sweater ever to knit. (NO SEAMS! This means NO SEWING!)

Knitting Without Tears has guidelines / patterns for a ton of different seamless sweaters (yoke, raglan, you name it . . . )

I could knit them ALL. Just, you know, to really see what they're like.

And maybe I could fool around with some color patterning. On the fly. As it struck me.

Total knitting freedom.

I wouldn't want to make adult-sized sweaters. Adult sweaters are big. And for my purposes, children's sweaters (although probably not baby sweaters) would do just fine.

The sweaters would be like giant swatches, really.

Only when I was done knitting them, I would have no further use for the things.

I could toss 'em.

But that would be a waste.

Oh, well . . .

Oh. Wait!

(Sometimes I really am stupid.)





Probably this is the beginning of a seamless yoke sweater. But it might be something else entirely. Total knitting freedom, after all. Don't know what it will be, but I know where its going. (Dulaan 2007.)