These are basic rainbow Koigu mitts knit from stash, without a pattern. Apparently this one was knit with a webbed thumb. It's what happens when you knit over Christmas and you're hanging out and talking and you've had a few eggnogs with burbon. You keep going and going and going with the thumb increases, then you put the thumbs on a holder and keep knitting up, and before you know it, you're at the fingers and the thumb is crazyfat and ridiculous, and it begins about halfway up your real thumb. And although the night was fun and the conversation great, you pull out the knitting the next day and see the glove is definitely wonky.
But, since you're already on the fingers, there's no way you want to go back and do all of that crap again, so you finish up the fingers and put the gloves on and hold your thumb under your hand just a little, like this and it looks Just Fine.
My knitting group was entirely amused by this last week, but I'm thinking that's actually a benefit here. Entertainment. And the other glove might get a good thumb so I'll only have to tuck this one under.
So, I'm going to go with these as an example of when it's just fine to leave the knitting imperfect. I'm neither gifting nor publishing these babies.
But, since you're already on the fingers, there's no way you want to go back and do all of that crap again, so you finish up the fingers and put the gloves on and hold your thumb under your hand just a little, like this and it looks Just Fine.
My knitting group was entirely amused by this last week, but I'm thinking that's actually a benefit here. Entertainment. And the other glove might get a good thumb so I'll only have to tuck this one under.
So, I'm going to go with these as an example of when it's just fine to leave the knitting imperfect. I'm neither gifting nor publishing these babies.
I'm going to put cool buttons on the cuffs and wear 'em. One webbed thumb and all.
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However, the more I knit, the more I realize there are some projects that should be perfect. The problem is the time it takes to make these things so. Or maybe the commitment to the idea that these things need to be so and you should rethink, rip and redo. A commitment I seem to have lacked in the past and hope to work on in 2010.
With that in mind, here's MY Golden Vintage Cardigan.
By knitting this, I learned the lessons that made all your sweaters fit so well. I realized I needed to move the armpits up a bit, make the back narrower, and make the sleeves a little tighter throughout the upper arm. Thanks to this sweater, all these tweaks are in the pattern. Thanks to my inabiltiy to frog and reknit, they never made it into MY little garment.
So, my poor sweater lies in my closet. Gold and Lonely. And, here and now, in this quasi public forum (I just may have more than 10 readers now), I'm telling you: it will be done. This winter. Soon. I will definitely fix it and then I will wear it. Because this is one sweater that really should be perfect.
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And to prove it can be done, here's my White Russian.
Again, I learned from the mistakes I made while experimenting, but I didn't fix them on the actual sweater. The pattern has the perfect proportions. But MY sweater had a shortish neck and sleeves that were both too long and too wide.
A sad testament to my laziness about frogging anything finished, I was actually wearing it around (since October). And every time I wore it, I'd adjust the neck and fold up the sleeves and feel a little sheepish for not making the damn thing perfect.
(see, cozy neck perfect sleeve)
So, Ta Da -- last week, I took the sweater, frogged back the arms and fixed the neck, according to the pattern. Now it's awesome. I done did fixed it. And I can wear it happily.
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Lastly, here's one that just may end up perfect to begin with.
With that in mind, here's MY Golden Vintage Cardigan.
By knitting this, I learned the lessons that made all your sweaters fit so well. I realized I needed to move the armpits up a bit, make the back narrower, and make the sleeves a little tighter throughout the upper arm. Thanks to this sweater, all these tweaks are in the pattern. Thanks to my inabiltiy to frog and reknit, they never made it into MY little garment.
So, my poor sweater lies in my closet. Gold and Lonely. And, here and now, in this quasi public forum (I just may have more than 10 readers now), I'm telling you: it will be done. This winter. Soon. I will definitely fix it and then I will wear it. Because this is one sweater that really should be perfect.
-----
And to prove it can be done, here's my White Russian.
Again, I learned from the mistakes I made while experimenting, but I didn't fix them on the actual sweater. The pattern has the perfect proportions. But MY sweater had a shortish neck and sleeves that were both too long and too wide.
A sad testament to my laziness about frogging anything finished, I was actually wearing it around (since October). And every time I wore it, I'd adjust the neck and fold up the sleeves and feel a little sheepish for not making the damn thing perfect.
(see, cozy neck perfect sleeve)So, Ta Da -- last week, I took the sweater, frogged back the arms and fixed the neck, according to the pattern. Now it's awesome. I done did fixed it. And I can wear it happily.
-------------------------
Lastly, here's one that just may end up perfect to begin with.
It damn well better be, since I've rethought, rewritten and reknit parts of it continually over the past few weeks. And each time I have learned a lesson and re-figured the pattern, I've frogged the fucker and reknit according to the lesson learned. I do have a little more to do, but I'm getting there. And I'll be happy wearing it from the beginning. Amazing. This makes me an old dog who's officially learned a new trick.
Maybe I'll wear it with my new Webbed Glove(s)?
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