If there was any doubt

that I am certifiably insane, let it be removed right now.

I am, in the next nineteen (19! Bloody hell!) days going to knit a toddler sweater out of fingering-weight yarn. I cast on yesterday.

In retrospect, I shouldn't have spent those few days dicking around with Koohaas and getting back to my beloved sock-knitting. Oops.

Naturally, I'm not really following a pattern. I have a picture in my head, and I found a pattern that has the basic shape and finished measurements that I want, so I've calculated the new stitch count, cast on and am very much hoping for the best.

Here's what I've got so far:

Craptastic photo.

I searched for a heavier yarn in the appropriate colours, but nothing seemed to be available in the local shops I patronize, when I remembered to look (and I've known about this for, oh, about eight months now) and it's too damn late to order anything.


I procrastinated, because there was tons of time. Five skeins is about five socks, and I can whip that off in a couple of weeks, no problem (since I can do half a sock in an evening, just sitting at the pub). My gross miscalculation comes from forgetting that what I want to make is just a picture in my head. I foresee lots of ripping. And what gets ripped must be re-knit.

Let's not forget about the intarsia beast. I haven't knit intarsia since, oh, I think about 1998, when my ex-husband's nephew was born. Holy crap, that kid is about nine now. And if that is any measure of how time flies, I'd better get to it...


Oh, and I start a course next Monday. I guess I will really be putting my knitting-and-reading skills to the test. I wonder how my employer feels about knitting and "working."