Making progress

When I began knitting, the idea of a knitted sweater seemed... oh, I don't know... insane. A scarf - sure, no problem. Hats? I'll give it a try. Why not? Even a baby sweater - a much smaller scale, so a little crazy, but doable.

But a sweater? A full-on, me-sized, knitted-by-my-own-hands sweater? With the seaming, the blocking, the pattern following and, ack, worst of all, swatch knitting? Even the idea of it was daunting.

But somewhere along the line, the idea becomes... less daunting. A pattern calls for blocking, so you give it a try. That little baby sweater seems a little too Mr. T-like without sleeves, so you learn to seam. And, yes, your daughter ends up with a few extra blankets for her little dolls as you learn the value of knitting swatches.

So the idea of knitting a sweater for myself, as crazy as it seemed when I first picked up a pair of needles four years ago, became less crazy. A pattern was found, yarn was ordered, a sleeve was started... and quickly discarded. Perhaps a mid-thigh length lacework cardigan, as gorgeous as the Celeste was, wasn't the best choice for a first sweater.

So I scaled back the plans, using the same laceweight yarn on a simpler, more manageable project - the very lovely Featherweight Cardigan. With its basic stockinette and top down construction, it seemed like the perfect first sweater. And it was. Until it was eaten by moths. Yes, really. Moths. Fun, right? Nothing like pulling a project out of the bag you had it in and seeing a fat little moth come out with it. (Consider this your public service announcement on the importance of proper yarn and project storage.)

So the third time, so far has been a charm. New yarn, new pattern: the tried and true February Lady sweater, from Flint Knits, knit up in the very lovely Berroco Weekend.


It's actually coming along nicely.... with a caveat. I feel like I really messed up the button holes. For some reason I have a large, loose piece of yarn going down the middle of the top two. Unfortunately, I'm the kind of knitter who would rather make due with mistakes in the interest of getting it done (and then point out the mistakes to myself years after the project is complete, of course), so I'll be figuring out a way to salvage those once it's almost finished. I can't believe I just used the words "almost finished" in the context of a knitted sweater.

Could knitted socks be too far behind? No way. That's just crazy.