Wednesday, September 19, 2007

The Naked DUCK

It came to me the other night in a merciless bout of insomnia: The Husboy doesn't read the blog unless prompted, so if I can keep from prompting him, I can talk about the DUCK project!

Ahem. When I first started frequenting knitting websites and blogs I read an article on Knitty about the dreaded Sweater Curse. I thought this was hysterical and told the then Boy about the story. From then on he refused to even talk about my knitting him a sweater (though apparently socks didn't count). A few years passed, as they do. As soon as the wedding plans were cemented and it looked like I was too invested to back out of the whole thing, the Husboy started talking about my finally being able to knit him a sweater.

I can' t say that I was terribly surprised that he was suddenly coveting a hand knit sweater, even if just to prove that no measly garment could ruin our now legally-binding relationship. What surprised me is that now I didn't want to talk about it. When someone at work would talk about wanting a sweater, Husboy would promptly inform them that he was next in the sweater line. I started thinking of knitting an aran or gansey or something else that would take months of math and planning, years if I stretched it out. Then the root of the problem came to me:

What if I make him look like a dork?

How will we take it if the fruits of months of meticulous labor make him look like a chubby five-year old whose mother dressed him funny? Would he wear it anyway? Would I let him? Would our marriage survive this horrific fashion disaster?

I guess we're going to find out, because, as if your blind grandmother couldn't tell by now, the DUCK project is going to be a sweater for the HusBoy, knit behind his back and (hopefully) completely without his knowledge. I've taken his measurements off of a sweater whose fit looks quite fetching on him, picked the pattern, bought the yarn:

swatched and started knitting. Let's just hope I can keep from falling asleep with my knitting in my lap before he comes home at night. Wish me luck!

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