When Ignorance = Accomplishment

My mother likes to tell a story from my high school years. I had broken my leg at summer camp and was in a cast from my toes to my mid-thigh. That fall, I had been asked to lead a prayer at synagogue. The day of the service, I limped my way down the aisle on my crutches, climbed the stairs at the front of the sanctuary, and read the prayer. When I was done, I made my way back to my seat. To me, this was not a big deal. Yet, when my mother tells this story, she always remarks how the cast on my leg did not seem to phase me at all. I'm not sure why my mother considers walking (well, limping) to the front of the sanctuary an accomplishment. Maybe she thought I'd be too self-conscious to get up in front of a crowd. Anyway, I had no idea the cast was supposed to somehow hinder me, so it didn't.

So what does this little story have to do with knitting. EZ's baby surprise jacket (BSJ). I heard on a couple of Kelley's podcasts that there are some tricks to knitting this jacket, and I did a little research to prepare myself. I was amazed at what I found.

Do you realize that on this website and on Ravelry, there are discussion groups devoted to this jacket? Ravelry linked me to a Wikipedia entry devoted to the intricacies of the EZ BSJ. In fact, the Wikipedia article actually has a map to show you which portion of the jacket you are currently knitting. It also discussion variations to the jacket, including creating an adult-size-jacket and collar and hood-add-ons. If you need additional help, you can search the web for knitter's personal notes, watch YouTube tutorials, or you can purchase a DVD to show you how to knit this jacket step-by-step. While I am admittedly a novice knitter, I wonder whether any pattern has been associated with so much intrigue. Clearly, this jacket has taken on a life of its own.

Having done my research, I can now state without hesitation that (1) I am totally intimidated by the BSJ, and (2) I'm almost sorry I did any research. Had I not done any research, I probably would be half-way through the pattern, enjoying the experience and feeling connected to all of the knitters who had completed this pattern before me.

Instead, I've been spinning my wheels (pardon the pun) about the type of yarn I need to use. I have a bunch of textured baby yarn at home, but I'm concerned that the texture will be too difficult to handle with this pattern. So I've purchased several different multi-color baby yarns on the theory that I will be able to focus on the pattern and not on whether it was time to change the stripe color. And a day or so after I've purchased the yarns, I return them since it's silly to buy new yarn when I have many skeins of perfectly good yarn at home. I've been to at least three different yarn stores in the last week to purchase and return yarn. I've probably spent more in gas going to and from these stores than the cost of the yarns I've purchased (and returned).

Despite my wheel-spinning, I don't regret all of the research I've done. I did learn one important feature of the pattern - you have to figure out where each button hole goes before you begin to knit. Apparently, EZ makes her first comment about the button holes somewhere near the end of the pattern. A novice knitter, like myself, appreciates comments about button holes much earlier in the pattern, like at some point before you are supposed to make the first hole. Kelley speculates in her podcast that there is method to EZ's madness; by waiting to mention the button hole, EZ is trying to make the knitter think about what she is doing and not blindly following a pattern. I'm not convinced. My speculation is the buttonhole is not mentioned until late in the pattern because editing on typewriters is far more time consuming than editing on computers. Whatever the reason, I know that, because of this feature, I am going to have to plan out the pattern before I begin.

I guess that means I should decide on a yarn soon. After all, the baby is due in July.

Maybe I should work on a toddler-size Surprise Jacket . . . .