It’s only fitting that I write my first post about one of my first adventures in knitting: the broken hand mittens (aptly named by my dad).
When I was in college, learning to knit was the cool thing to do. What better way to express your keen interest and attention in the subject at hand than knitting during a lecture?
So I, like many of my pre-hipster classmates, learned to knit.
Badly. Really badly. My first scarf was full of dropped stitches and undulated like a serpent, since I was completely incapable of finishing a row with the same number of stitches I started with.
Hey, I thought to myself, you know what would look great with this masterpiece of a scarf?
Ok that’s not really what I thought. I wanted a pair of mittens, lovely mittens knitted with lovely chenille yarn on big lovely needles.
Rather than fooling around with doing a gauge swatch (why bother? We like things that don’t fit!) I did it my own way, sure I had stumbled on a secret that no knitter had even found before. If the yarn isn’t the right weight called for in the pattern, why not just do some math? Just multiply everything by two and it’ll all work out!
Cast on 40 stitches = cast on 80 stitches
Decrease 2 stitches each row = decrease 4 stitches each row
MAGIC KNITTING MATH YAY. AM A FLIPPIN’ GENIUS.
I magicked up a pair of mittens that would look smashing on the Jolly Green Giant. They were so big I could easily fit both hands inside a single
Here’s the thing, though. I didn’t knit A mitten. I knit a PAIR of them.
As in, I was aware you could stuff a litter of kittens in one mitten and I knit the other one anyway.
Sadly, I did not document my first masterwork and there is no photograph evidence. I can offer you this, however:
Hey, I was still proud of them. They were my first mittens – I’m entitled.
I want to hear about your crafty disasters! Let me know in the comments about your early projects.