welcome to planet torture knitting

so i'm making another cardigan.

to counteract the terror caused by the previous cardigan.

with a gauge of 30x40 stitches.

after six days of maniacal handiwork, the body is done. the collar and front button band alone took a whole day.

then it comes to me to try the thing on.

and before i can say "HOLY FUCK IT'S TOO SHORT" i realize that it is, in fact, too short.

i knew i had to make at least 13 stripes instead of the 12 in the pattern, because i have a freakishly long back, and because i prefer my cardigans a little longer anyway. i also clearly noted how majorly anal frogging the hem would be, because the front band attaches directly to the side of the hem, rendering any alterations to the length both futile and unsightly. but did it occur to me, at any point, to count the freakin' stripes? the short answer is, no. the long answer is, due to a critical risk of me starting to break things, also no.

not that i didn't do that too. TV remotes, flower pots, nokias, whatever. in real life she was so calm and composed and boring. on planet torture knitting she went freakin' berserk.

just because you think there's 13 don't make it so

i've heard it said that knitting is a metaphor for life. you try your best to make good, but sometimes life (and yarn) just wants to throw turd-covered curveballs at you, and all you can do is enjoy the taste.

but why is it that when it comes to me and knitting, everything has to go through the fuck-it-all amplifier before any good can come out of it? it's like i'm subconsciously sabotaging my own work. maybe i don't feel like i deserve any yarn-related happiness. where's freud when you need him?

i'd like to say, next time i'll count the stitches, next time i'll be super smart, next time i'll be so careful and conscientious that i'll get it right from the word go.

but that would be a lie, and you and i both know it.

go ahead & panic

so i'm making this cardigan.

313 yoke stitches per row.

with three alternating skeins of the same yarn, because it's hand-dyed and i want to avoid pooling and other color-related disasters. 

my hands hurt and my already crippled back is twisted into some kind of contortionist nightmare.

i think, "gee, i hope i don't screw this thing up, because frogging into three live skeins at the same time is surely not a pleasant thing to do".

i also think, "nah, i'm not going to count the stitches at this point where the correct amount of stitches is a matter of life and a supernova-type death, i'm sure the number is right".

so i go ahead and knit one row. purl one row. knit. purl. knit. purl.

"i don't see how this thing could go wrong"

seven hours and 8136 stitches later.

the yoke is done and i'm marking the stitches to separate the sleeves. front piece, sleeve, back piece, sleeve, front piece. but... the numbers don't add up.

terror fills my head and panic starts to tighten its death grip on me as i realize i've had too many stitches all along.

i failed to read the lace chart properly at the beginning, so i now have 26 extra stitches, which means the yoke is going to be way too big for me. i would have noticed this had i counted the stitches at the point where i knew i should have. but i didn't. and now it's too late.

the vision of frogging seven hours' work into three live skeins at the same time suddenly becomes very real.

bob, you fucking asswipe fartface. kill me now.

keep calm & carry on

no reason to panic! despite some rumors that i've gone apeshit over luxury yarn again, i have in fact contained  myself and spent my money on my most basic, fundamental human needs only. like shower gel and cheese.

to assure you that everything's cool beans around here, i solemnly swear that this isn't kollage sock-a-licious.

these aren't two gorgeous hanks of mokkasukka, certainly not in colorways pellervo and samuel, the (non-existent) latter of which very much (not) resembling the (hypothetical) yarn above.

this is not araucania ranco. really. it's not.

and even though they may appear so, these aren't two koigu KPMs in the most perfect shade of burnt yellow i've ever seen.

they're all mere holographic projections of yarn-y goodness against the backdrop of my maniacal, yarn-craving, excessive personality. so, you see, all is well. and i smell good too.

i do, however, admit having acquired eight skeins of basic alpaca, but since they were less than a double-digit amount of euros a piece, they don't count. really. they don't.

this little shelly went to germany

shelly's famous, man! after the previous post a friend of mine in germany expressed some interest in getting a raunchy little turtle of her own. and being the generous and overallily* nice person that i am, i made her a very special edition of shelly in sumptuous pink colors. poor thing was stuffed in a tiny box for four days, travelling up and mostly down europe, but apparently recovered quickly and is already busting some steven seagal type of dance moves.

props to antje for the photo!

also he's taken up learning german. should i be worried?

in other news: i was making a pair of paraphernalia socks, because the cable pattern seemed nice and also i wanted to use my mokkasukka for something more than just a basic pair of socks. anyway, this is how far i got...

...before i realized there's no way in hell they're gonna fit my giant quadrilateral feet (which pair up nicely with my giant trapezoid head). apparently my gauge was off by roughly a gazillion stitches. how about making a swatch or something first? no, that would remove the whole element of surprise. which is what makes knitting interesting. you get what bob allows you to get. and frogging is good fun, too.

and no, i don't want to donate them to someone with lesser feet. because if i can't have these socks, nobody else can either. ha. ha.

*overallily [adv]. mainly; in most cases; altogether.

confessions of a crack addict

did i say crack? i meant yarn.

but we in the knitting business know that a good ball of yarn can be as addictive as any illegal substance. and totally as expensive.

the only thing that so far has saved me from personal bankruptcy is the fact that whenever i want something special i have to buy it online. which is too slow and lacks the integral touch-and-feel part of buying yarn. so i've been relatively safe, with only a few relapses at fairs and conventions here and there. but now my local yarn store has, in its infinite evilness, started stocking luxury yarns.

the other day i went there to buy some boring mundane everyday 3.80 merino for another turtle i was making. and what do i see stashed incospicuously on a shelf below eye level, as if to fool the casual passer-by? koigu! jitterbug! malabrigo freakin' sock!

yes. malabrigo freakin' sock. in candombe.

why, satanic proprietors, have you done this to us? have you no idea what this means to these poor souls with no level of self-control?

i found myself forced to grab furiously whatever i can and proceed to the counter, with the same shameful it's-so-wrong-but-it-feels-so-right look on my face that alcoholics and crack whores often have.

here you go, 17.50 euros for a single hank of yarn. my brain and my wallet may be bleeding but inside i'm having the most filthily orgastic pillow-fight slumber party of my life. rapture is only a tram ride away.

jag dyrkar satan

here's a little something i picked up from a trip to norway.

www.fuldesign.se

i know it's not technically knitting. but i stitched it all by myself. with my bleeding little hands. so stop bitching. and start worshipping satan. prostitution is recommended too.

said eloquent piece of artwork also goes rather nicely with this little trinket i picked up from a trip to sweden.

www.ahlund-karlen.com

what the hell is wrong with scandinavians anyway?