Failures Motto, Again
I was determined to do it all just right. I made my gauges three or four gauges and did a careful counting of stitches. Two gauges made it to the blocking stage. (Yes, blocking stage. I did block them. It does seem retentive to do such a thing, but have you noticed that with gauge I have relational problems?) So when the gauges had settled, there was more measuring and counting. And, unbelievably (believably?) the wooden size 8 needle and the Turbo size 7 needle were knitting at exactly the same gauge! So of course I chose the Turbos for speed and, because they dont throw sparks. (Forgive the levity. Gauge is a ponderous topic.)
So feeling virtuous (and a tiny bit smug,) I cast on and began knitting. Past experience has shown that when I get into the knitting groove, everything loosens. Determined to be attentive enough to prevent this from occurring, I knit vigilantly. Then that *feeling* started to set in, that feeling of Authority Looking Over My Shoulder, Frowning. It got creepy enough that I picked up a ruler and checked my gauge. Im sure you already know. There were MORE stitches to the inch than there were supposed to be. One half stitch too many to be exact.
So with Hannahs help (Hannah is a Jewel and handles hysteria with a capable hand) I did some (re)thinking, some more measuring, and some counting, and decided that ripping back to the armholes and adding a few extra stitches at the same gauge would equal the correct size if I followed instructions for knitting the next size up. It would seem that I cannot knit the most humdrum of garments without drama.
In the meantime, I have decided that sharpening my knitting acuity is in order. For instance, I have a new theory that knitting to gauge means that the stitches will feel a certain way on the needle, that is, not slide too easily, nor slide not easily enough. So far, this has proven to be accurate. Also, it is self-evident that I should NOT ignore the Authority Looking Over My Shoulder she is trying to tell me something. And I have decided to reflexively (and to cheerfully) check my gauge. Every inch or so.
And so I recite (again) with (mustered) zeal, Failures motto. Success is a terrible teacher.