Alter-knit reality

"It is finished."

Not only powerful words from the Cross, but also to every knitter who has ever labored a hundred-plus hours on a sweater.

I just finished a shop sample from Rowan's mag #40: "Parker" in Tapestry. (see http://www.gotyarn.com/detail.cfm?ID=2763 )

Inevitably, knitting a sweater becomes a love-hate relationship. You LOVE the yarn!
"I MUST KNIT SOMETHING WITH IT!!" you squeal, plunking 9 balls of it onto the counter at your LYS. And so the saga begins...

Day One: You're practically casting on at stoplights all the way home just to get it started. Dinner goes by the wayside, your family sorting through leftovers like homeless people. You almost miss an episode of LOST being so caught up in the newness of this love! But that would be crazy. No one misses an episode of LOST just to knit. You pride yourself on staying connected with reality.

Day Two: Twelve straight hours of knitting and the back is almost done! You've shaped the armholes and you're on the downhill stretch... of the first of 6 pieces. Six? Hmm. Oh well, you still LOVE the yarn! You're thrilled to see how it's knitting up even more beautifully than you could have imagined. Your family has switched to auto-pilot, knowing better than to bother you when you're counting decreases.

Day Three: Reality sneaks up on you when you realize that after finishing the back, every other piece of this sweater will have a matching piece with reversed shapings. It's like giving birth to twins, or realizing that you'll have to knit a second sock. You don't just get the joy of making one... you get to make an identical one that is not... identical. You suck it up and cast on both front pieces on one needle with two balls of yarn. You feel a bit anxious about the probability of tangling these yarns, but you pour a mixed drink and press on.

Day Four: Rip out both fronts when you realize whatever you were drinking clouded your ability to knit. Explain to hungry family that you spent your food money on yarn... and that it could be worse-- you could be sitting in a bar somewhere throwing it all away. Shut up and let me knit!

Day Eight: You've been reduced to a sweat shop knitter. Days off are spent in your pajamas with copious amounts of coffee and whatever food you can find in the fridge. You wonder why there's no food in the fridge, and then push that thought away as you realize you haven't cooked in a week. The Sweater has become the Sweater From Hell. It sucks the life from you... it lurks in your knitting bag like an animal. You dream in yarn, and wake up in a cold sweat, certain that you've knit your neck edge decreases incorrectly. Your daughter asks if you have a recipe calling for tomato paste and dryer lint... she's willing to try anything if it means she can eat.

Day Ten: Your family has begun leaving notes for you... what family? who are these people? Your eyes are sunken, your fingers atrophied in the Knitter's Claw. You think your missing chihuahua might be trapped under the laundry pile, but you don't have time to pursue it. Must knit... MUST KNIT.

Day Thirteen: Sleeves... why does it always end with sleeves?! Not one, but TWO! Two identical sleeves... sleeves that start small and then increase! It's got to have been some misogynistic bastard who added the first sleeves to a knitted garment! It's madness!

Day Sixteen: The last of the knitting is in sight. You hate this yarn. HATE IT... as in NEVER WANT TO SEE IT AGAIN! But it's got you now. You must knit on. Burning the oil well into the wee hours, you cast off ...tomorrow is another day. Your husband startles as you collapse into bed... he checks the framed photo of the two of you on his bedside table against the shell of a woman pretending to be his wife. Too tired to argue with a stranger, he lets you sleep.

Day Seventeen: Blocking. Oh sure. Take an entire table, cover it with towels, pin the pieces of sweater down and mist them, steam them, cajole them, scream at them, beg them to lie flat. Vow that you never want to see this yarn again. EVER. Go find your chihuahua.

Day Eighteen: Seaming. Isn't it enough to have knit 10,001 tiny stitches? Now they have to be seamed together? There is no joy in Knit Town tonight. Weep softly, humming negro spirituals such as Roll Righ By 'Dem Purly Gates, and Pass Me Knit, O Gentle Savior.

Day Nineteen: "Behold, I saw a knitted garment in all its glory, and it was a fearful and awesome thing!" As you weave in the last of your ends and gather your needles and notes, you reflect on the miracle of knitting. Like all things worthwhile and glorious, it has taken you to the end of yourself and back. It's brought you to desperation but allowed you to return to glory! You marvel at the 10,001-plus stitches and think of all the things your mind and soul were contemplating while you ticked off the hours on your needles. You put the sweater on and it hugs you back.

Much like the birthing process, you have brought this sweater from conception to fruition and it has been painfully rewarding. And also like childbirth, the memory of the pain immediately begins to slip away...

Is that a yarn catalog in the mailbox? Wow! I LOVE that new yarn...