I just realized. Sweaters hate me.

Before I get on topic, I'd like to say something. I got to Chicago safely. The trip took about 13 hours, including stops. The details of my cross country yarn crawl will be disclosed shortly. Perhaps next week after I finish it. 'Twas a bit stunted, you see. But never fear, I am at Tzurriz's house safe and sound. Without as much delightfully diverse yarn and stories as I'd hope.

(At this time I'd like to address one question I was recently asked. Tzurriz is Yiddish for "trouble," and the apt nickname of a dear friend of mine in the Chicago area. ((Perhaps the name comes from some of her more memorable exploits: spending well over a year trying to introduce me to the Amazing E.))

Perhaps because of the amount of knitterly literature I've absorbed in the last few days, I've been contemplating a serious subject. And oh, by the way, my signed copy of Things I Learned from Knitting was at Tzurriz's after all. Anyway, the subject was my pitiful relationship with the sweater. By this I mean no sweater in particular, but rather all sweaters that I knit much like an ornithologist who has a close relationship with flightless Antarctic birds refers to them collectively as "the penguin."

In my 3.667 years of knitting, I have cast on a total of five sweaters. The first was frogged long ago and very early in my knitting career. No harm, no foul. The second was the Fair Isle Sleeve Top which I still own. It slumbers in a bag. I've worn it once. It is a beautiful work of art and completely unwearable. To this day I haven't to foggiest what the designer was thinking, and I'd like to write her a letter. Third is the Green Tea Raglan. We'll come back to this in a moment. The fourth sweater is a Sahara. Knitting that lovely whizzed by in only six weeks. However, I used some silk for the lace that I'd dyed with Kool-Aid. It wasn't colorfast and faded to a horrid shade of blue-gray. I'm pretty sure it can be saved if I rip off the lace and reknit with something I like better. And then there is the Oriel Lace Blouse. I still have hopes for this blouse. I have only to do the back. It will be done this year. Then I can find out how disappointed I am with it. For now it remains an unrequited love.

The Green Tea Raglan. Sigh. Feel this with me. Sigh....

I finished it in late May. I think I even posted about it with no picture. To review the case history, I purchased the yarn for it in a fire sale at a yarn store. In short order it was cast on for an unsuccessful project and frogged. The Green Tea Raglan was cast on, and according to the pattern I should have just made it with the yardage. Yes, I know I was tempting fate, but let's not dwell on that. In short order I got nearly done but realized that I would run out of yarn sometime during the last sleeve. The knit was cast into prison for months whilst we searched for the one or two balls of what turned out to be a rare yarn. When two perfectly matching balls of another colorway were by an act of yarny heroism in another state by my LYS, the project was restarted and shortly thereafter finished.

Then I spent hours properly seaming and blocking. Then I wore the perfect knit with glee. Three times.

Then some fiendish cat decided it was his mommy and kneaded it with his claws while it sat in its place waiting to be lovingly hand washed. All those little bamboo threads that make up the yarn got frayed on one part near the bottom. It's unwearable. It's only on one section near the bottom hem of the back, but it's several square inches of very frayed fabric.

And I don't know if I can get anymore of that yarn. Boo hoo hoo. Perhaps sweaters are never to be, and I am destined to knit socks forever. And perhaps this is deductive reasoning at work.