Don’t ask me why

Once in a while I’ll get a real hair across my ass to knit something so complicated it might be dangerous to my health. Enter the Nagano:

Notice how I didn’t just show a shot of a completed Norwegian ski sweater modeled by my dad? Yeah, funny that. I was up two nights before Christmas, madly steeking and attaching sleeves, then tacking down selvages over the rough edges and weaving ends. There were a few nail-biter moments with that and I had to pull out some things but no big deal. It got wrapped. It went under the tree.

The sleeves were Two Inches Too Short. I said, “No problem, this is superwash!” and dashed to the bathroom sink to submerge the sleeves in hot water and pin them to size. Somehow that didn’t work. The damned things were still two inches shy and guess who only brought what seemed necessary for the finishing to Maine?

It fit just as easily into my checked bag on my flight home and now it sits mocking me from its favorite spot in my WIP bin.

That hair? That hair across my buttcheeks that I mentioned earlier? The one that won’t go away until I shower take on a project that makes my best knitting buddy toss his head back and cackle about my insanity? Turns out that picking apart my effing Nagano doesn’t make it go away. I’m doomed to screw up colorwork. Just as a cruel trick, it’s not the technical aspects of the skill that poop on my parade. No. It’s the basics of sweater construction and fit.

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