Things My EZPS Taught Me

Here's my finished EZPS. 

I had fun with it, despite the lessons it wanted to teach me, namely:

1.  You should remember that self-striping yarn really wants a different colorway for contrast, (like you learned the hard way last year but completely forgot about).

2.  Yoke sweaters speak in a completely different fitting vernacular (DUH.), which bears further study.  Bout a million years oughtta be enough.

3.  You can get away with stranding worsted-weight yarn, if and only if 
        a.  You are limiting the stranded areas to only part of the body (preferably a cold part)
        b.  The garment can be opened up the front for ventilation, or 
        c.  The garment will be worn only in areas devoid of central heat.  

4.  It's extremely clever to buy a bunch of buttons that you like when they are on sale, and hoard them until the day they are needed.  
        a. Unless, of course, you fail to buy the correct number of said buttons, or at least count them before deciding how many buttonholes to make.
        b. Never, ever, ever ask "What could possibly go wrong?"; see item 4a.

And now, having enjoyed this little diversion, I'll be returning to my regularly scheduled programming: 

1.  A mitten who has no mate and seems to think she'll be the subject of a class I'm teaching in less than two weeks. 

2.  A sock who is not only still single (notice a theme here?), but lacks an instep or toe, and dreams of becoming a member of a pair within its deadline.

3.  The Frog Prince, who needs some cuffs and some finishing before he can be introduced to the lovely and talented Ms. K., of Technical Editing Fame.  Might be good if I also wrote the pattern before that. 

4.  Two Top-Secret Christmas Present Projects.

5.  There is the little matter of the Relentless Atomic Knitting Book Tour, which I am still on, pretty much every second that I'm not attending the day job.  This weekend it's Seattle, which coincides nicely with Thanksgiving, and some people I know there, who, because they are related to me, are letting me and my family hang out and feast at their place.   They made me promise to bring the beer.  Done and Done.

A Little Good-Natured Ribbing

I have a long and complicated relationship with ribbing.  As a general rule, ribbing is not my friend.  Something about the knitting of it; the relentless moving back and forward of the working strand, the slowness of it; the constant battle with how much or how little it pulls in whatever edge it's applied to; all flummox me.  And it's done to death.  In the language of knitting, ribbing begins far more sentences than it deserves.  In spite of all that, I loves me some corrugated rib.  Just really dig it.  And on a sweater like this, where so much is going on with the yarn anyway, it adds just the right amount of interest and texture, without looking fussy or contrived.

Here's another of our friends, the crochet steek.  Is this photo out of focus, or is the ombred colorwork messing with my vision?  Probably both, but you get the idea:  Just like with the sleeves, reinforce edges first, then...

Steek Porn.  I like this shot, not only because I took it with one hand (my left!) while cutting with the other, but also because you can actually see the individual stitch ladder being cut, between the black crochet stitches.  And yes, I do believe that one day I will seriously jack up a sweater front by standing on my head to photograph the cutting of a steek while actually performing it at the same time.

And here is the demon/angel ribbing, not laying especially flat because it has not been blocked yet.  Note also the strange, volcano-like silhouette of the yoke, pre-blocking.

And a money shot of that ribbing.  This is a special tubular castoff, sewn with a tapestry needle.  Instructions for it and its gifted sibling, my beloved tubular cast-on (no waste yarn required!) are in the back of my book, if you are interested.

Which leaves only one more ribbed edge, this one with buttonholes (saints preserve us), a couple of armpit grafts, and some buttons pending procurement.  I think I'll do myself the favor of making the buttonholes first, and then restricting myself to a choice of buttons that fit them.  Clever plan, that.

What could possibly go wrong?

Do As I Say (Not As I Do)

I'll admit it:  I am just crazy for color-changing yarn.  There's such an air of sanctioned cheating about it.  I mean, you don't have to figure out anything at all with regard to color combinations.  It's all done for you.  But I could never be happy just complacently self-striping along.  Oh, no; not "Sassy Mc-Couldn't-we-make-this-harder-ton".  I got it into my head that what my EZPS really needed was some colorwork at the yoke.  Nothin' to it!  I'll Just (how many truly bad ideas begin with the words "I'll Just"?  I'm thinking most of them) stagger the color changes in my second strand to work the pattern, assuring that there will be enough contrast to make the motifs pop.  How'd that work out for me?

Great, actually, as long as I was only doing corrugated rib.  The hem and cuffs, being at the beginnings of things, offered a lot more control than I had in the yoke area, where I was subject to the whims of the color-change trolls:

Nowhere near enough contrast to see the motif (it's a leaf - thanks for asking).  It dawned on me after about five rounds that what I needed was an entirely different colorway of cool self-striping yarn.  But this is the really barking part:  This lesson is not new to me.  As soon as I thought about it, I remembered last Thanksgiving, when I learned this the first time.  Just about a year ago, to the day.  I was making this swell hat with Noro, when I learned that you can't just reverse the order of the striping by working from both ends of the ball because when they cross, you will be working stranded colorwork with two strands of the same color.  Did I try it anyway?  Of course.  Total denial that my tingling Bat Senses might indicate trouble ahead.  And when, at the end of the project, I asked myself "What have you learned, Dorothy?", the answer had two parts: 

1.  Stagger, rather than reverse, the stripe order of the yarns.
2.  Even better, get a totally different colorway for the second strand so you get enough contrast.

So why, I wonder, did only the first part of the lesson stick?  Stupid synapses.  Stupid Knitting Amnesia.  Oh well.  I was only a few rounds in when the epiphany struck (again).  I could easily frog the stranded part and replace one of the strands with a separate colorway.  But (and here's where my control-freak nature rears its ugly head) the hem and cuffs are already worked in the main colorway.  For the design to make sense to me, the second colorway needs to be used at the hem, cuffs, neckline, front bands and yoke.  Otherwise it looks like I just changed my mind midstream.  Which I sort of did, but don't want to be reminded of it every time I see the sweater.

So I'm Hosed.  Notice how I always fall out of love with my projects somewhere near their completion?  Yeah, well, it appears to be that time again.  {I'm not even supposed to be working on this right now.  If you'll remember, I sent the Frog Prince to Time Out for less egregious crimes.  Come to think of it, I don't really remember what Froggy's doing time for, exactly.}  So I have decided to push through the wall and complete the EZPS, which means that every time the yarn colors get too close, I'll break and graft one or both to get better contrast.  So far, in the yoke area I have broken and grafted three times.  Which blows.  So while I had hopes of publishing this design at some point, I like you all too much to do it.  Instead, I'll just give you the following  vague  instructions, open for interpretation: 

Make this sweater using EZPS, and working 6 steek sts at the center front to make it a cardigan.  But don't be a dumbass like me:  Choose TWO colorways and use one for the edge trims and colorwork, and the other for the main body. 

In other words, Do As I Say, Not As I Do. 

And good luck with that.