Let’s talk about that project. That half-finished, half-loved-half-hated one you shoved in a bag somewhere, that only occasionally shows its face to remind you that you still haven’t figured out where you went wrong in the pattern repeats, or been able to face another nine inches of seed stitch in lace-weight silk.
Every knitter/crocheter, I’ll wager, has a project like this. If you can’t think of one, it’s probably because your version of this project has tortured you so badly that you’ve blanked it from your memory. Lucky you: isn’t the mind a wonderful thing? But it’s there somewhere, I guarantee. Go and look behind the sofa. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.
My particular project-of-doom sat in a broken washing basket under my bed for a year and a half, until I got it out the other day, girded my loins (whatever that expression means – second thoughts: I don’t want to know) and decided that I would not be defeated by 350g of purple sheep-shavings. It’s a neat little jumper (non-UK translation: sweater) in fine 4-ply (non-UK translation: flippin’ fingering-weight) waffle stitch (translation: nine million hours of stitching hell) and I am never ever knitting it again.
It’s a perfectly well-designed, well-written pattern called Thermal, and please don’t think for a moment that I’m criticising the designer (Laura Chau), because I’m not. It’s a beautiful pattern, worked in waffle stitch to trap cosy little insulating pockets of air against your skin and keep you snug. If you’ve read any of my 300 rants about the temperature of this house, you’ll understand why I chose this pattern, decided to knit it, and bought soft purple merino for the job. There are some gorgeous pictures of finished versions on Ravelry. So far, so good, although I should possibly have hesitated when I noticed that the pattern said, “The fine gauge might take a little longer than usual.” If I am ever unfortunate enough to come across those words again in another pattern, I shall grab my children and my knitting needles and flee screaming from the house.
But in the end, it wasn’t even the sanity-sapping need to flick back and forth between knit and purl in yarn so narrow that I could’ve flossed with it, that did for me. No, it was the fact that I’d knitted round and round and round for a full twelve inches of jumper before I had the sense to hold the thing up and mutter, “Hang on, doesn’t this look a little… wide?”
Before you ask, yes, I’d swatched. Several times. In slightly different needle widths and materials, just to be sure. And yup, my stitch count was just as it should be. But somehow, 240 little stitches in the round were working out so big that, if I ever mastered the art of time travel, I could pop back and offer the thing to myself as maternity-wear for when I was bumpy with the Toddler Twinnage. (Just to put this in context, a midwife at the hospital laughed heartily and said that in her 20-year career, mine was the biggest bump she’d ever seen. Sigh. Thanks, twins.) Except that a summer twin pregnancy was possibly the only time in my life when I’ve ever felt warm enough and had limited need for super-warm knitwear.
Being an essentially lazy person, I couldn’t face frogging back and starting again. And devoid of other ideas, I went and whinged to the Stoic Spouse.
My husband’s usual approach to anything non-functional is to say, “I’ll take it in the garage,” where he’ll either add a bit of metal/wood, remove a bit of metal/wood, or bash it about until it works. Obviously, he was going to say something ludicrous about the jumper. But his first suggestion was almost workable. “Why don’t you wear it as a skirt?” he asked. Now that idea had some merit, because I do like narrow shortish warm knitted skirts, but I’m not sure I’d like one with a bobbly waffle-stitch texture, so I shook my head. “OK…” he paused. “Why don’t you just cut it down the side and sew it up a bit smaller?” His shrug implied that this plan was both obvious and workable.
“Cut?! Cut?” I screeched.
“But I’ve seen you cut your knitting before. Loads of times. Like that blog header you made…” I willed him not to repeat the shrug. For the sake of his survival to meet any future grandchildren, do not let him repeat the shrug.
“That was different. That was a steek.” (OK, so there wasn’t a hyperlink in my actual speech.) “You can’t just randomly go round hacking bits off your knitting when you feel like it!” He may have missed these last words because by now, my voice was so high-pitched that it was probably audible only to dogs. “Besides,” I added, because I was really going to nail this argument, “the yarn is superwash: you can’t steek superwash.”
He stared at me blankly, whether through his inability to hear speech at 40kHz, or whether because he had no idea what I was on about, I don’t know.
But I was still left with an unworkable jumper. And, whilst I’d’ve cut off my own nose rather than admit it to him, maybe the Stoic Spouse’s idea wasn’t entirely insane. After all, what else was I going to do? (No, I was not frogging the beast.) So with a lot of eye-rolling and ‘hmph’-ing, I began to consider the possibility. Obviously, it wouldn’t be a real steek. And the felt-proof superwash (no I don’t know why I decided to use superwash, either – it was a long time ago, and I wouldn’t make that choice now) would need an insane amount of reinforcement on either side of the cut, possibly involving superglue and staples when mere stitching didn’t work out…
So I did it. I sewed up and down (and up and down, and up and down) where I wanted to join, and on either side of the band I planned to cut out. And then I made the first cut…
…And the second cut, which left me with this:-
And then in a move of gross stupidity that I’d recommend to nobody, I folded over my cut edges and sewed them a bit more. This was quite a stupid plan, because I now have some incredibly bulky sewed-up stuff on the inside of the seam, thus ensuring that (i) I’ll be irritatedly scratching my right side every time I wear the jumper, and (ii) I’ll look two inches wider than I am. (See bulky side of the jumper near camera on photo below.) Oh well. It’s like wearing a hair shirt: my punishment for knitting stupidity. Maybe next time I won’t make such a stupid mistake. At least I’m hard at work on the jumper:-
As for the Stoic Spouse, I plan to convince him that I’ve filled out a bit, and I’ll just have to hope that he never notices the seam when I wear the jumper.
I dug mine out from last August. So much stockinette stitch, it was beginning to wear on me until I thought, I’m glad this is not lace. That brought me to my senses. Suddenly I like this blanket.
Ha ha, brilliant reframing. 🙂 I hope the blanket is done soon. And endless stockinette has its place when you’re too knackered to concentrate on anything else..
I’ve just suddenly realised why the Stoic Spouse is ‘stoic’. What a man!! 🙂 And kudos to you for the attempt, even if it doesn’t work out, you tried – and can toss it out with a clear conscience. I have bags of yarn from items unfinished and undone and never again attempted. I am, alas, a fair weather yarn crafter!
So many projects, so little time, eh? Especially when you’re painting such beautiful pieces at the moment.
I did finally finish mine – many years later. I found it lurking in a box in the garage and decided to finally give it another go.
Result – I gave the yellow coloured jumper with a red Twisties logo (australian snacks) destined as a birthday gift for a 16yr old son to a 30 yr old adult man. Teenagers can be tiring at times and he must have given me strife at some time and I just gave up knitting it.
Didn’t tell him it was coming (he lives in another state) parcelled it up with a card and put it in the post. I could hear the shrieks of joy over the phone and funnily enough he could actually fit into it.
Now I stick to knitting baby sized garments for charities 🙂
Aww, that’s such a lovely story. And returning to it that many years later is seriously impressive. Glad he loved it.
Oh dear!! Lovely as spouses are they just don’t get it when it comes to these things do they! Such a shame that it was so big as it looks gorgeous. I hope that you do love it when it is done. xx
Thank you. And the jury is still out on whether this is going to end up as something lovely or something that gets shoved to the back of the wardrobe and ignored.
I don’t have any unfinished projects because I rip them out!
You’re a stronger woman than I am! And less self-deceiving…
Hello, I like your site and this post made me laugh. In 2012 I started knitting a wrap around cardigan for my (grown up) daughter, I was house bound with a broken foot at the time so it seemed like a good idea. The body part was all in one from top to bottom starting with a very narrow belt type bit that would go through a hole on the other side, it gradually increased until the whole side and back were on the needles, I think it was something like 148 stitches! It took me ages to work out how to do the armhole, it was a nightmare, I grew to hate it and eventually put it away in a cupboard hoping that my daughter would forget about it. She did for a while but eventually I had to continue with it. Unfortunately I lost the pattern (I genuinely did) but soldiered on trying to work out how to shape the neckline. Last week I crumpled and gave in, the neck bit was looking odd and as luck would have it we realised that I wasn’t going to have enough wool to finish it so we pulled it undone, I have taught her to knit, she’s taken to it brilliantly so she is going to do something with the wool.
So was this the impetus for her wanting to learn to knit? If so, you’ve given her something even more lovely than the cardigan would have been. Cheesy but true!
And housebound with broken foot sounds like enforced knitting time: am I a bad person for being a tiny bit envious? (Hope it wasn’t too painful and that it healed perfectly.)
The cardigan WILL get finished, i swear. Just as soon as i can track down some more yarn. Oh yes, and there’s the shawl too, which is in completely the wrong colour…
Brave lady. Hope its worth the extra work in the end.
I really do believe we’ve all got projects like this. Hope you make more progress with yours than I’m making with mine!
Oh me, Phil…after doubling over in laughter at the beginning part and then unable to breathe through the section of that conversation with your husband…I truly do think you have an amazing brand of stick-to-it-iveness that must be in the annals of psychology as a very unusual type of masochism. ? I do say this with utter admiration for both your knitting talents and your wonderful way of writing about them. Is there a book in your future? I would totally read it!!!
Aww Jennifer, I always appreciate your kind comments, but this one is particularly lovely. I do have nearly as much fun writing about knitting as doing the actual knitting, so it’s great when someone says they like to read it.
And I’ll put you down for a signed copy of the first edition. 😉 (Joke! That’s a joke!)
I was thinking the same about your writing skills. It’s such fun to read and makes me smile/laugh often. Happy knitting/writing!
How about stitching it up on an overlocker. They trim the seams as they sew.
Much of the bought knitwear are finished this way. xx
Oh poo. Wish I’d thought of that before I hand-sewed it badly. Sigh. You’re right: that would be a good idea. Thank you.
Thank goodness I was laughing as I read my way down, as that almost distracted me from thoughts of the half-crocheted sock hiding somewhere in my craft room.
Of course it’s you that reminded me of it in the first place…
Err, sorry. Oops. So what stopped you working on the sock, dare I ask?
It was four-ply. It didn’t grow fast enough and was extremely fiddly to work with. I could crochet for hours and barely have a cm of sock done. Pah! Give me a nice DK or Aran any day 😛
I laughed so much as I read this because it’s so similar to something that happened to me recently with a jumper I made my dad. At Christmas I finally plucked up the courage to cut up the sides and sew it up. It was terrifying but once it was done I felt completely all-powerful. Probably something akin to Caesar when he’d conquered England. I’ve been meaning to write a blog post about it, but so far I haven’t been ready to talk about it. Maybe, having read this, I’ll find the courage next time I’m in front of the computer!
Yup, I can totally relate to the all-powerful feeling of a successfully-chopped knit… when it’s supposed to be cut. So have you given the jumper to your Dad yet?
Yes… I had already given it to him. That’s how I knew it was way too big! He was very patient waiting for his re-fitting!
Oh you are brave Phil…please post the finished jumper. And, I sure needed the good laugh, thank you.
You’re welcome. 🙂
You are a fearless knitter. I give you credit for going forward with the knit. I don’t have projects like this around. Strange, but when they come to where your sweater is at they always suffer some sort of accident which includes scissors and ends in the garbage bin.
Oh dear! How unfortunate! But if you will insist on leaving your sharpest scissors right in the project bag with your too-stressful sweater…
I know the feeling – I have an Alice Starmore fair isle vest I’m doing for my husband, up to the armholes in preparation for the dreaded steek [I’m a Steek Virgin] and it’s in my “time out” box. I have this horrible fear that it’s going to be too SMALL – yes, I swatched, in the round, in the fair isle pattern, and added the necessary repeats of the design to the cast on vest, but maybe I’ve screwed up. And I can’t fix it by cutting stuff out, so where now???????????? Perhaps cutting up each side and putting in a gusset?
If you can get this far in an Alice Starmore vest, you can do anything. Seriously. And yes, maybe the gusset idea if it’s really too narrow? Did you wash the swatch? If not, maybe the wool will chill out and loosen itself a little when you wash the finished thing.
I’m guessing it’s beautiful, though? Her designs are gorgeous. I’ve got a couple of her design books, and she makes it all sound so effortless.
Oh…….I thought you might have been asking for suggestions – a cushion was the first thing that came to my mind. Mind you, a very special, Mummy only cushion, perhaps on the bed for when you need a little peace and quiet, resting your head on lovely lavender softness………
Peace? Quiet?
But if it doesn’t work out as a jumper, I think you may be on to something with the cushion. Thank you for the suggestion.
I’m so new at knitting (about half a year) but I’ve already found mine – an MKAL I signed up for that I’m very out of my depth in. Hoping to change that once I get better, but for now it’s staying frogged.
I admire your ability to take the risk and “steek” it! I’m excited to see how it turns out. I have yet to steek anything. . . One day, soon.
Normal, planned steeking isn’t as scary as people make out, honestly. Except for the first time. And maybe the second. But unplanned steeking is a little less clever.
A KAL sounds like extra pressure! I hope you finish the project some day. What was it?
Ah, good to know it gets less scary with time/practice. The KAL: It’s a shawl. I like it, but honestly, I think it requires too much focus for me at the moment. I’ll save it for another day.
I’ve never made actual clothing for this reason. I’m still a fairly novice yarncraftytypeperson and the nearest I have to one of THOSE projects is a cabled scarf from I want to say three but possibly four years ago. I put it away when I moved house and with all the best intentions, I now cannot work out which part of the repeat I’m on to pick it up again. Maybe I shall frog it and start again, because the colour is going to be awesome.
That’s the worst thing – when you can no longer work out where you were up to or which bit is supposed to come next. It took quite a bit of time and mental energy for me to think my way back into my jumper project. (I hope you do finish/re-do the scarf.)
Wow. Wow to your determination to finish this. Wow to the serious stoicism of your spouse. Wow to being able to find humor in it all!
Lol! Thanks for sharing this. Your experience has reinforced my commitment to buying feltable yarn only.
Of course, there’s a whole other league of disasters that can occur when using feltable yarn. Like my toddler jumpers that felted when the washing machine stopped working…
“I’ll take it to the garage.” Love that. I’ve never been the least attracted to knitting myself, but I do understand the “how do I salvage this” gritting down to make something work. Wow. I could see that as a skirt with some heavy leggings, though. Thanks for the humorous and triumphant tale!
Thank you.
Yes, it probably would have worked as a skirt, although its bobbliness would have added a certain amount of bulk that I’m not really looking for on my hips…
As helpful as my husband is, he is of no use with knitting unless it is to untangle hopelessly messed up balls of yarn. I so relate with your efforts to make the jumper into something useable. I applaud your courage. Carry on!
I enjoyed your misery. I’m sorry but I did, but it was mainly because I empathize. Girding your loins I’ve only ever heard in the Bible. Haha made me chuckle here. It just means steel yourself for what’s ahead. (Of course that’s the extreme paraphrased version) I’d say that definitely happened after reading your endeavor.
All of my (note the ‘All’ and consider the weight in that small word…) unfinished crafts (and they are legion…) live in a cupboard that my son, very kindly, calls my “Failed crafts cupboard”. They go there to haunt the spare room, most likely never to be contemplated again (apart from here where I just got a significant waft of guild along with their equivalent of dog eyes whenever I open their door). By the way, anything that is down the back of the sofa deserves Earl to find it. Husbands and their complete disregard for the intricacies of whatever craft you are undertaking at any given time. If only life was as easy to fix as someone’s husbands suggestions, none of us would ever have to worry again (except our husbands who would have sheds FULL of ‘stuff’ that needed fixing!) Kudos on being able to reach the ‘Harpy note’ by the way. I haven’t quite managed to attain that masterful level of angst tangled up with pitch. Should I ever manage to master it (I am only a lowly grasshopper when it comes to yelling and mine is loud, low and crude…I can only dream of mastering ‘The Harpy’) I am sure I will never have to chase Earl ever again…
So… What are you going to do with the cut-offs? LOL. Great post : )
So… What are you going to do with the cut-offs? LOL. Great post : )