Or is it part three? I can't remember. What I do remember is that I had to frog the first attempt because there was no way the sweater was going to fit my lovely husband. Several friends suggested that perhaps he should go on a diet ... or perhaps I should find a smaller recipient for the sweater. Nope. I dutifully frogged it and started over.
Things went well for the body and first sleeve. When I finished the second sleeve and started to assemble everything on the needles ... The second sleeve was much longer than the first ... A more careful perusal of the pattern indicated that the problem was in my interpretation of the directions. (Note to self: Read patterns carefully even when you think you remember what you are doing. Memory plays tricks!) So I ripped again.
By now, my poor husband was beginning to fear that his sweater would take the road traveled by Joe's Gansey (see various of the Yarn Harlot's posts about said gansey). Not that we've had much winter thus far, but he WAS hoping to be able to wear it this year.
Then my sister had her baby early. Three weeks early in fact. So the Accursed Sweater was put on the back burner while I made a gift for Sammy.
Returning to the Accursed Sweater, I finished the second sleeve and assembled the project on the needles. And began the colour-work. Only to discover I had too many stitches. A more careful review of the pattern directions indicated that I was required to perform some decreases before the colours started. (Apparently I did NOT remember the note to myself made above!) So I ripped again.
By now, my husband was getting seriously worried. He would inquire anxiously if I was all right, did I need anything, perhaps a glass of wine or some Guiness. Through clenched teeth (apparently disregarding my vow to never grind teeth again so as to avoid root canals) I would state firmly that I.WAS. FINE.
After the requisite decrease rows, I began the colour-work. A tremendous sigh of relief when the first row worked out properly. A sip of wine and row two commenced. An even louder sigh of relief. I worked several more rows without incident.
And then a miracle occurred. Lizzie-Kitty, who is NOT a lap-cat, settled in for a long winter's nap. And stayed for almost an hour. This, folks, is right up there with the Virgin birth and making-wine-from-water stories. She NEVER sits on laps. And not only is she on my lap, she is stretched out, tucked in and purring.
2007 is gonna be a great year.