It's a comical movie involving this couple who gets engaged, and then the engagement goes on for five years, and then there's some drama and then the audience is left wondering whether the couple will remain engaged for forever, finally get married or just call the damn thing off.
I have a sweater like that.
When I first started knitting, I did a couple of little projects. By "couple" I mean really wonky-looking scarves and a sort of sad attempt at a hat that later ended up being turned into a scarf.
Then, inspired by my favorite knitting how-to book, which I wrote about in an earlier post, I decided I was going to try my hand at a sweater.
I'd be given another knitting book-slash-materials-kit for my birthday a few months after I started knitting, and my family bought me some really pretty Red Heart Super Saver yarn. The colors were a subdued rainbow of mauve and chartreuse and pink, navy and gold and green. And despite this yarn not being the softest on the shelf, I really liked it.
Now, let's back up a second. This is 2013. I started knitting in fall 2007. Back then, as a knitting newbie, I literally knew how to KNIT. No purling. So stockinette stitch, ribbing, basically anything more advanced than garter stitch was a COMPLETE foreign entity to me.
I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS TAKING ON.
So summer 2008 rolls around. We took a family vacation to somewhere for one of my brother's running camps, I believe, and I brought with me my trusty new needles, pattern book and like WAY too many skeins of this Red Heart yarn.
Sweater, take 1: The pattern recommended like, size 9 and 8 needles or something like that. So I start off spending literally three hours in the car knitting 1.5 inches of ribbing for the base of the back of this sweater. I made it about halfway up the back of the sweater, ribbing plus stockinette stitch (I'd forced my friend Aliya to teach me rudimentary purling before we left school for the summer), and I realized 1) I was quickly running out of this yarn and 2) this sweater was fudging HUGE. Thus, I learned about gauge. About eight hours into the project, I unraveled the whole thing to start over with the proper needle size.
Sweater, take 2: OK, that last part was a little fib. I somehow tried to unravel and start over, but really the yarn got tangled, so I started over and then had this massive knot of yarn to handle. I got about the same spot in the project, which was already littered with my poor attempts to stockinette stitch, and gave up on the sweater. I rolled it up, put it in a bag and shoved it dejectedly into my closet.
Sweater, take 4: If any of you live in Georgia, I'm sure you remember well the Snowpocalypse of 2011. For about four days, the entirety of the UGA student body and employees were snowed in. Georgia is not snowicane prepared. My best friend Amanda and I trudged through the snow from our house to Sonic and to the liquor store on the second day because we were getting cabin fever and were sick to death of the "Millionaire Matchmaker" marathon that WOULD NOT END. I got so bored with TV, drinking, exercising to yoga videos on Netflix and making a match.com profile that I broke out The Sweater. I finished the front and half of a sleeve before it was time to go back to class.
And now, two years after the Snowpocalypse, The Sweater is still in three pieces and it doesn't look like it's getting done any time soon. It was such a sad labor of desperation, love and mis-matchery that I have no idea what the Hell I'm going to do with it:
That yarn looks like what would happen if "Project Runway" designers were allowed to choose camouflage colors.
And also, I am never going to finish this poor thing.
I bought a bunch of navy yarn to start over with. :)