Off The Cuff

So there I was, minding my own business, when my extremely casual relationship with math leapt from the shadows to make sure I have no delusions of adequacy.

In my world, when I go to the lengths of my intellect to determine that 8 stitches in an inch of knitting should give me 6.75 inches of cuff circumference in 54 stitches, I am fairly smug about having figured it out.  Turns out that in my world, corrugated ribbing does not yield regular inches of knitting.

I was happily knitting along, pleased at my progress on the secret deadline project.  I was in the rare company of several of my favorite knitters.  Right in the middle of the conversation about where we were going for dinner after our little knitting party, I gasped out loud.  I had the temerity to try wrapping the cuff around my own wrist, as one does between rounds, with the smug satisfaction that this will tell her what the finished cuff might look like on an actual human wrist.

Keep in mind that this is actually TWO cuffs, conjoined into TWO siamese sleeves, being knit at the same time.  So sure was I that because I had gone to the trouble to actually perform calculations, nothing could possibly go wrong.  So confident that the sleeve would fit that I casually wrapped its cuff around my wrist, just to see how things were progressing. 

Except that the edges of the cuff didn't meet.  My friend Lisa used her superhuman cuff-wrapping skills to hold it wrapped it around my wrist for me.  Edges didn't meet.  My friend Liz muttered in her quiet way that it looked like I was hosed.  K.T. assured me that although it looked very bad indeed from way over where she was on the other side of the living room, she was sure Lisa could tell me how to fix it.  Jen meaningfully held her tongue.  "Block it!" was the final and reassuring chorus from all parties.  "You can totally fix that with sheer force of will!"  These ladies are nothing of not supportive; one of many reasons I love them.
 

Liz was right.  I'm hosed.  This cuff would fit a toddler, but probably not a human-sized adult model, and for sure not me.  Not to mention that if the dang thing doesn't fit a normal person, there are one or two hapless knitters who will grab their pitchforks and head for my house.  And I wouldn't blame them, either.

But, of course, I'm on a deadline to have this beastie done in 8 more days, and all the steam in the world is not likely to create the extra 3/4 s of an inch I thought were going to be in it.  What you can't see in the photo is the other 8 or so inches of conjoined sleeves above the nightmarishly small ribbed cuffs.  Those in-progress sleeves are the limiting factor, because reknitting them, after the wretched ribbing is sorted out will surely put me over the deadline.

My clever knitting friends advised me to finish the sleeves, and then, only if there is time, rework the cuffs buy cutting them off and reknitting them at a looser gauge.  God Love the Knitters.  I might have thrown myself under the next bus if they hadn't been there to lend their expertise.  Can you fathom being so smug that you don't even bother checking the gauge on the cuffs until after you are half way up the sleeves {Queue maniacal Knitting God laughter here}?

Phillip took the Smallies on an overnight trip to the water park resort, so that I could have some quiet time to declare war on the wayward cuffs knit.  Darn neighborly of him, though it's possible he was tired of explaining why Mommy was using the Naughty Language.

I have about 6 movies queued up on Netflix; all of them chosen for their knitability.  You know: no subtitles, not too complicated in the plot department, no heavy accents, and hopefully no characters that look too much alike (Phillip's not here for me to ask "which one is he again?").

I'm up to movie #3 so far, with 10.25 inches on the piece, of a probable 20 or 21 inches needed.

At least I found the measuring tape.  No reason to panic.  I'm going to just roll with it.  What could possibly go wrong?  Except for the cuff ribbing, I mean.