I do not believe in "meant to be." As in "this sweater for Ben...it was not meant to be."
However, I do believe that Math is a lying, evil cheat that seeks to thwart my humble, charitable efforts at every turn. It is out to get me, with all those sneaky little symbols and cute little formulas, masking the doom that lurks in conversion and percentages.
Math screwed up this sweater, not me. Also, time might have come into play (where time passed x weight gained = irrelevancy of carefully calculated stitches per inch...which, again, looks like math to me.)
Beau began a year ago. I knew gauge calculation would be key, since the yarn I chose was far smaller than that recommended. I approached the math carefully, holding out yummy treats to coax it into submission. Then I flailed on it with a calculator, measured an existing Ben sweater and knit a gauge swatch.
Not being the trusting type, I measured again. I made Ben run the numbers. They all matched.
Thus it began.
And now, so many months later, we have come to this strange point. It is a time of failure...yet success! A moment to morn for what might have been...and cherish what is.
In the race, your loss is my gain, after all.
Okay, so Beau doesn't fit Ben. Not even kind-of. I wedged it over his head, but he nearly burst the sleeves off when he breathed in.
Was that why I put it down after finishing the back and most of the front? I honestly can't tell you. But I can confess that I suspected much amiss when I picked this out of the UFO pile and began to knit.
I knit along anyway. I figured someone would fit into it.
I see that suspicious glare in your eye. I swear - I didn't do it on purpose! I meant to knit Ben a sweater.
Aw well. Next time!
(coffee from Zibetto!)
PS: While I still hate on you, Math, you did okay by me this time.