The Second First Sweater

My very second knitting project, after a very simple scarf, was a sweater. I've always been an over-achiever. However, I had not yet learned that patterns should be altered for the individual, and copious measurements should be made throughout the process. Instead, I followed the instructions... and ended up with this:

I apparently had a short-waisted, broad-shouldered, long-armed being in mind.

For years this sweater was stored in with my yarn stash - never worn, just occasionally pulled out to be examined and admired. From the get-go I was a ridiculously OCD knitter, so my stitches were even, and the fabric wonderful, if I do say so myself.

Finally, after my knitterly re-emergence, with lace, stitch designs, and baby sweaters under my belt, I found myself looking longingly at sweater patterns. I bookmarked them on the web, I pored through all my knitting books and magazines, and kept coming back to the same pattern over and over. I loved the drape, the style, and the creative simplicity in the design. I realized that it needed the same yarn weight I'd used in the ape-human sweater, and I still loved the blue - I could picture the sweater in that blue over a shirt and my favorite jeans. In this land of above-freezing temperatures, the short sleeves would be a good way to offset the warm wool.

Finally, I was in. I pulled out the never-worn, much-labored-over First Sweater, and with complete abandon, and growing excitement, painstakingly pulled out the seams. I discovered that the arms were big enough around to be the torso to a sweater that actually fit me. What was I thinking all those years ago? I gleefully pulled out stitches to create loops of yarn hopelessly kinked by all that time spent in knitted form, like this! ------>

So each skein pulled was soaked, squeezed (NOT wrung!), and hung to dry. Never more than one at a time, because that kind of foresight is just asking too much for a person so thoroughly convinced that she can accomplish this knitting project. Instead, as each skein dried I wound it into a ball and sat on the couch with my needles and growing swath of sweater.

(If you're wondering, then yes, it took longer this way, because I continually misjudged the speed of my needles and found myself with no more yarn, and a two-day drying process to wait for.)

Finally, however, and in reality, just under two short months later, I cast off the last stitch. I researched better ways to work in the ends, despite the fact that I decided on a method that took longer than my usual (but looks so much better). I soaked the sweater and laid it flat to "block" - a process which helps the fabric conform to the shape it needs, and in this case gave me a chance to obsessively measure the folds that defined the look of this pattern. It took forever to dry, and of course reached a suitable state on a weekday morning. Despite being in a late heat spell, I raced home from work that evening to sit in a sunny room on the floor, where the still air made the inside of my apartment unusually stuffy. I sat in a t-shirted, pants-less state, with a cold beer handy to bear the warmth of the wool on my legs as I sewed up the folds and then slowly picked up the collar stitches required to add that final something. I impatiently created the i-cord loop and attached it with buttons selected in a panic the previous weekend, when I realized that crucial step had been forgotten. I drank deeply from the fast-warming beer, and smiled even as my face glistened with sweat, because I was done done done, and my second first sweater was everything I thought it would be.

It's really not wool weather yet, though the northern California nights are obligingly cool, and we even had a dreary, not-quite-rainy Sunday, when I could wear my sweater all day long. I've only suddenly burst out with, "I made this sweater!" to my co-workers. I even resisted when I found myself wearing it in a yarn shop. It's ok, because the I-made-this-sweater! song plays in my head the whole time it's on.