Some days I do not know. Take Monday for instance. I finally tried on, with a critical eye and the sleeve pinned in, a sweater I had been knitting, off and on, since last year. The sleeve was too big and was gaping around my arm and the sweater, that looked like it fit just right last week, was also way too big. How does this happen you ask? I would say, of course, lack of gauge swatching. And a lack of measuring and a lack of being able to look at a partially knitted garment and realistically associate it with the actual size of your body.The silliness and lack of TAKING KNITTING SERIOUSLY abound.

But I’m also wondering if I will ever be able to get a sweater to fit without taking drastic measures to make my proportions less proportioned. It seems drastic, I know, but I am very frustrated by this latest development.

See? Gigantic. Why is the delusion so convincing?

Disappointed as I was by this failure, and the one I had two weeks ago, I also felt liberated because, A., once this project was off the needles at least one project was out of the bag. And, B., I could start something else. And, honestly, aren’t there always so many things to start?

These socks are further along now - I have turned the heel and started up the foot.

And even in times of great darkness, thank goodness, there are always socks. I am more than half way done with the second sock of the Second Socks, which means, of course, that I am done with the first of the pair – no Second Sock Syndrome for me. So, in order to one day wear them, I will soldier through the finishing of the socks, some golf club covers, the winding and swatching (yes, I’ve learned my lesson) of three yarns for three different summer sweaters – one I can’t wait to start. It’s crochet, don’t judge me. And after that I may even attempt a reno of this latest disaster. I have a plan.

And now, back to the question I asked at the beginning of this post: Why do I knit? Apparently I can’t help myself, because even after these recent failures, I am still spellbound and proud when I can turn a heel on a sock and have it turn out right and then pick up the stitches to start the foot. I am always immensely proud of myself and it never fails to jump start the fever of watching all of those little stitches line up to make a very, if I do say so myself, fabulous sock that could possibly fit.

Fingers crossed! Until next time, Faithful Reader.

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