More Tales from the Chronically in Denial

The sweater has a name. Her full name is Chloe the Cabled Clematis, but Chloe works just fine. I finally gathered the courage to buy the yarn and took full advantage of a 15% off sale at my other favorite Madison Yarn shop (sans coffee). I hated parting with that much money, but I hated even more the thought of spending weeks moping around because I didn’t have any knitting to keep my hands busy. I came out of the store with nine skeins of Lambs Pride wool/mohair blend in Clematis, and a much lighter wallet. But I didn’t cry. Not even once.

So, despite the fact that the mercury rose to 95 degrees yesterday, I began knitting my gauges. Because I have faith that there will come a time when I have to dress for warmth again. And I probably will not have time to knit a sweater that morning.

Being a fairly novice knitter, I was tempted to forgo knitting my gauges. Ah, the naïveté. See, I didn’t want to “waste” the time knitting gauges that I would just pull apart afterwards. I am really, really glad I didn’t listen to the lazy knitter inside of me. If you knit, you know the dark side of which I am speaking.

In the instructions, the author says that she achieved gauge by using size four needles, but that she is a loose knitter. So, I picked up my pair of eights and knit the first gauge. Too small. I re-knit the gauge with a pair of tens. Still too small. I finally achieved gauge with a pair of ten and a half-sized needles. All told, it took me several hours to knit all four gauges. Knitting gauges are a good thing, I have decided, though. I could have worked for weeks knitting a sweater that only my six year old niece could have worn. Then I would have had to pretend that I made it for her along...

Chloe is still in pieces right now, having only the back side ribbing on her begun. Here's a peek at a grown up Chloe, except that she will be a deep purple. She is very excited to be a sweater someday, and hopes to become the first sweater President of the United States.

Until it cools down, Chloe and I will be found lurking in places with air conditioning. I will surreptitiously eek out a few rows in the frozen food aisle at the grocery store. I will whip her out in elevators. Bring her with me to the dentist (regardless of whether I have an appointment). Because it is hot. And we do not have A/C in our 1920’s apartment. And knitting a wool sweater in the middle of July without the barest hint of artificial cooling? Dumb. But I have faith that someday, as she sits in the Oval Office, Chloe will look back and appreciate all that I have done for her. In the meantime, we’ll be hanging out at the car dealership down the street.