I needed the perfect yarn like an ice cream sunday needs fudge. Without the fudge, it's not a sunday. Without the perfect yarn, it won't be worthy of being mine.

When my bank account vehemently disagreed with me, I went to the sock drawer and began digging though it, searching for a few extra dollars--spare change that I missed in the first pass. That's when I saw IT--the teal cashmere sweater that I bought at the Goodwill not long after I moved to DC. It never fit, but I was freezing and looking for something to layer underneath my coat. It worked. For $10, it more than worked; it was perfect.

I haven't worn it in years, not since I got my first pay raise and was able to afford clothing that fit. So when I saw it my drawer, my first thought was “Didn't I give that away?”. Then its beguiling voice whispered in my ear, “Knit me.”

I gnawed on my lower lip and looked around the bedroom, searching for the source.

“Knit me,” it whispered.

I looked between the sweater and my dog. People will think I'm nuts if I say the sweater talked to me, so I almost convinced myself it was the dog, who is neither knitable nor spinable.

The sweater rubbed against my fingers, reminding me of how luxurious it once felt against my skin even though the sleeves were too short. A small smile skated across my face and I lifted it out of the drawer and rubbed it against my cheek. It was still soft--make you want to wrap yourself in it and never take it off soft.

I stroked it for a moment. I promised my sister she could have this, but that was before her she got the 'twins'. It wouldn't really fit her after her enhancements, I told myself as I surreptitiously turned it inside out and checked the seams. Crocheted seams, no button holes or nasty zippers, minor felting at the arm pits, but I can around that, I reasoned.

Excitement coursed through me. Maybe I didn't need more money. Maybe all I needed was my yarn swift, a seam ripper, and a tapestry needle. Sweater in hand, I dashed into my living room and grabbed the yarn gauge.

Ten stitches per inch put it on the finer end of the lace weight yarns. Perfect. Ten minutes later, I found myself sitting in my rocker, carefully removing the seams.

Many hours of Law and Order later, I have 115g of 2-ply lace weight cashmere. It's not the color I had in mind and there are a few stains, but a little vinegar, some Betty Crocker Gel Food Coloring (blue), and a crock pot should fix that.

Before

After

To be continued...