Stephanie, Why ARE your sleeves too short? (Part Two)

Because I can't follow directions.

I'm knitting the "Gathering Intentions" sweater from Fiona Ellis's book, Inspired Cable Knits. It's really my first cabled project, if we don't count John's vest. It only had one cable, twisting in one direction every 10 rows. (I also don't count it because it woul dhave fit me and him at the same time.) I asked Cheri about swatching for gauge, and her suggestion was that I start with a sleeve and use it as my swatch. Gauge and cabling are complicated beasts, since the cables pull stitches together more than usual.



Her suggestion was fantastic, and in addition, I got the right gauge the first time even though I picked needles that should have been too small. So I just worked the sleeve, increased when I was supposed to, figured out a good way for me to manage the cable needle, made sure to click the row counter when I finished a row. (This is key. I can read a chart. I cannot, however, remember which chart row I am working.)

I increased the sleeve length by 2 inches (after some precise measuring at one knit night a few weeks ago) and decreased to make the cap. And then I was ready for the bind off, so I held the sleeve up to my arm in triumph.

It was too short. Way to short. Dorky short.

The whole time I was knitting it, I wondered about what you do when you rip out something with cabling. How do you get the stitches back on the needle in the right order, since the whole deal with a cable is knitting them in the wrong order? What happens if you drop a stitch? How much swearing can John handle if I mess this thing up?

Well...a lot.

I put the sleeve down and measured to the beginning of the cap. It was spot on. I measured the cap. And God Bless America, it wasn't even close.




It's meant to be 5 3/4 inches from the cable needle to the top of the sleeve. Also, I'm only supposed to have 18 stitches. Crap. I measured again, from a different angle. That sometimes makes things appear longer.



Nope. Still not right. And there is no way to stretch something that's about 3 inches to almost 6 without, well...without really messing it up.

Sigh. I opened a Diet Coke. Things are easier with a Diet Coke.

And I ripped, and ripped, until I got back to where I started to decrease. About a third of the way into picking up the stitches (which isn't that bad, but it's not that good either), the timer in the kitchen went off. I made the executive decision to cook the pork roast a little longer. There were loose stitches on the floor of the living room, and I have priorities.

I got them all back on, and the stitch markers too, and then I reread the instructions. I did some math. I tried to figure out where I was in the pattern. In a brilliant and totally unprecedented feat of knitting genius, I remembered that I'd written down the number of the last row before the decrease. All is not lost. I will survive. My sleeve will be the right length (for me).

FYI: I was not able to do all this picture taking and ripping without a little "help" from Abby and Jake. It's not fair to expect that they would sit by and let yards of yarn fly by without investigating. And the tape measure? That's more than little Abby can handle.