Dear Designer of Cardigan,
Last night I said some things. I said some hurtful things. About you and about your ability to design. I made fun of your ability to produce a proper gauge. I laughed at your expense. I was upset, you see. Upset because I couldn’t get the same gauge as you. I tried three different needle sizes. I made substantial sized swatches with each. I cursed you because after all that, I still couldn’t get the right gauge.
Your gauge: 26 sts and 37 rows = 4 inches on US4 needles with sport weight yarn.
I picked out some DK weight (which is only slightly heavier than sport weight) and grabbed my size 5’s because I was nervous about creating too dense of a fabric (since I’m a tight knitter). I had 26 sts = 4.75 inches. So I did the next logical thing: moved up a needle size… three times. “Why is my swatch getting bigger?! How are you getting your gauge?!” I cursed and screamed to the heavens and shook my fist violently in the direction that I assumed you were located. Then I realized, that’s not right. Turns out, I’m the idiot. Want more stitches per inch? Go down a needle size.
So you see, that was my bad. And I’m sorry I got mad at you for my own stupidity. Turns out, I’m not so good at math and logical reasoning when I’ve been drinking.
I humbly apologize and take back everything I said. You’re a great designer and I love this cardigan. You’re right and I’m wrong. Let’s hang out sometime and I’ll buy you a drink.
The other day I was walking to the market for lunch when suddenly every bone in my body was urging me to stop, lie down on the sidewalk and take a nap. My eyelids were heavy and the warm concrete beneath my feet looked so inviting and divine. I never thought I would think that taking a nap in the middle of the sidewalk would ever be so tempting. Maybe when I was little I took naps on the sidewalk, but that must have been after hours of bike riding and sidewalk chalkin’ and (most likely because I was a weird kid) eating grass. Did you ever eat grass? I have a distinct memory of lying underneath a trampoline eating grass because I wanted to be a cow. Grass underneath a trampoline is probably the most nutritious of grasses because they’re safe from trampling feet. Additionally, the trampoline provides coverage from the ever watchful eyes of adults who frown upon grass/bark/twig/bug eating.
That tangent has nothing to do with knitting, I know. The important thing that I want you take home from this post is that I recently procured a mother-fiber-load of yarn. Couple of birthday presents:
From a friend: Handspun and dyed wool from Snowberry Studio Yarns on Lopez Island. Probably going to turn this into a chunky cowl of sorts.
From the sister: A skein of Tiny Annapurna in Coral Reef from A Verb for Keeping Warm in the Bay Area. I see a beanie in it’s future.
From myself: I got me a whole box of yarn. Because I deserve it and because I have big plans for a couple of sweaters. Holly aka sillylittlelady and I are about to venture into a knit-a-long. We’ve both been admiring Aidez for a long time and finally decided that we needed to do this. now. Thus I have begun:
I still don’t own a ball winder and I honestly have no free time to go to a yarn store to use theirs. So I will be using my overturned chair and kitchen utensil method to wind 11 hanks into semi decent center pull balls. You may think that this is a horribly bad and tedious thing. But I assure you it is not. I wound one hank and it was the most personally rewarding thing I’ve done all week. It put a smile on my face. I knit a swatch and I felt even more accomplished. It’s really the little things that get me excited…even if it is eating grass.