That’s right, the girl who has no problem discussing almost any bodily function with the entire world is going to share with you something she finds almost embarrassing. If you’re a knitter, you’ll understand. The rest of you can just prepare to be bored.
Remember that sweater I started on the machine and set aside because the back came out gigantic? That was back in the middle of January, and I finally forgave the project enough to dig it out and have a second go at it last night. On refreshing my memory, and reviewing the gauges on the swatch and the sweater back itself, I discovered that yes, it was still totally wrong. I was really hoping that letting it sit and relax for a while would somehow magically fix the gauge. No luck.
Instead, I realized that I was not at all happy with the drape of the fabric. It was too loose and stretchy, and I tend to like my sweaters a little closer to the bulletproof end of the spectrum. The strange thing was that the gauge on the swatch was different – a bit tighter – than the gauge on the sweater back. Even though I used the same yarn, same machine, same settings, and as far as I can remember same techniques. Was it a change in the weather? The fact that the back is a much bigger, wider piece than the swatch (this matters with machines as the farther you get away from the tension mast the more the thing has to stretch)? I couldn’t say. I was too busy making new swatches and calculating gauge and multiplying out all the numbers for my new sweater back.
Now, knitting math isn’t all that hard. You multiply the gauge (stitches per inch) by the number of inches wide you want the garment to determine the number of stitches to cast on. Similarly, you multiply the row gauge by the intended length to determine the number of rows to knit. When you’re hand knitting, you can often get away with the row gauge bit and just measure as you go along, but with machine knitting there is a handy little counter on the machine that tells you the rows, and the gauge changes so significantly with blocking that calculating it out is a must. So basically, I had to figure out numbers relating to the width of the waist, the height to the armholes, the depth of the armholes, and some other things involving how the arms and neck are shaped. Not that big of a deal, especially if you have a giant collection of knitting reference books laying around.
Or so one would think. I spent most of last evening cranking away at the machine, reforming the stitches to make ribbing, cranking away some more until I had a sweater back completed. By that time it was very late and Joe had already gone to bed, so I set it aside and hit the hay.
This morning, I came into the office room to admire my work from last night. Damned thing is way too small! The fabric is beautiful – exactly the firm-handed drape I was looking for. But it’s not nearly wide enough. Maybe it would fit my pre-mommy body, but that’s not around right now for me to check. I need something to stick my current self into. ARGH! I did a little more measuring. I did a lot more measuring. Then I did some more math, and I still have a bit more math to do. I’m going to give it one more try.
In the mean time, one thing was clear. I’m going to have to re-use some of this unsuccessfully knit yarn if I’m going to have enough left to knit the sweater. Anyone remember the old Weezer song called, appropriately enough “The Sweater Song?” It’s about ripping out a sweater and leaving a guy cold and naked on the floor. That’s my new cell phone ring tone as of today.
Here’s the first back after I ripped it out onto the swift. See how crinkly the yarn is? That’s from being knit up and shaped as stitches, blocked, and left for a couple months.
Here it is getting a little bath in the sink to relax.
A little happier, hanging to try in the bathroom.
I just hope that treating the yarn this way isn’t going to overly affect the way it appears in the end project, or (horrors!) how it knits up gauge-wise in the final piece.
I should have stuck to the blankie. Off I go.