The Other Mitten

Last December I knit a mitten. I found a pattern I adored, selected a fetching colour combination of yarn, and cast on. Did I swatch? No. I admit it. The gauge was given "in chart pattern after blocking", and I couldn't be bothered. Don't get me wrong, I understand and respect the value of the swatch, but if it's not your standard, run of the mill stockinette swatch, I'm not going to do it.

I knit the mitten, all the while thinking "this is looking a little big, isn't it?", but ignored my inner voice as only a knitter in the throes of colourwork can, and just kept going. When I finished the mitten, it was the size of an oven-mitt, and my fragile knitter's heart broke. Perhaps even died a little bit.

I struggled with some deep, personal issues for a long while after that fateful day. Could I move on? Should I knit the other mitten? What was the point? These were NEVER going to fit me! Where should I go from here?

As you know, eventually I decided to knit the other mitten. My Dad proclaimed them "beautiful" and "not-too-girly" and a "perfect fit". I'll be honest: I still don't know if he can pull off mittens in a Green Tea Heather and Sweet Potato colour combo, but hey, he's a grown man and I'm not going to debate it with him. Besides, I needed to make peace with this project. I needed to get the mitten albatross off my back.

So I cast on for the other mitten. Problems kept popping up, but I didn't let myself get deterred for long. I kept at it. I knew that with a little patience, a little love, my hard work would pay off.

I finished it on Saturday afternoon. It was a bit hairy for a while, because there was a very real possibility that I would run out of the main colour, but it turned out alright (barely). I wove in the ends, folded the cuff back and sewed it in place, and admired my handy work.

"That's a damn fine mitten", I thought. At that moment, my heart swelled up with love for the mittens. I forgave them for being too big. I forgave them for being fussy. I remembered that I really loved this pattern, and at that moment, I wanted to be one with the mittens. I wanted to put them on and just draw out that moment of pride and serenity just a little bit longer.

Still wearing the recently completed mitten, I rooted through my knitting bag and found it's mate. I pulled it out and stared at it, poised on the brink of ultimate mitten-knitter satisfaction.

Time stopped. My breath stuck in my throat for a moment, and every tension in my body let go all at once as I focused on one all-important detail: the thumbs.


Realization of what I had done came crashing down on me in an instant: I had not won. I did not have a pair of mittens. What I had were 2 right hand oven-mitts.

Pray for me, for I am in knitting Hell.