Maybe I should taken account of the stitches per inch sometime in the 2 years this was on needles. Denial is such a powerful set of blinders.
Cutaway in Rowanspun DK.
This isn't my first go-round with gauge. We go waaay back . It was the Twelve Corners Middle School 5th Grade Spelling Bee., final round. A voracious reader, I had an excellent vocabulary. There was a whole cosmos of words I knew but never heard pronounced. Hors D'oeuvres for instance. In books, people were always eating HORZ DA VORZ . Likewise, my engineer dad would talk about measuring things, and deputize us to monitor dials on the dashboard when he fixed his weird old car but the spoken word gauge never connected in my brain with that word in books, GAWJ.
So there we were on the auditorium stage. First, Richard Lee, goes down on roccoco, I am glad it wasn't my word because I wasn't clear on the CC's there.(and in truth just had to spell check it now, heh). The next two kids stayed in. And me, my word? GAYJ, to measure. Umm,so familiar, yet... G-A-G-E? Ding! Out!
Love the yarn, love the style, love the pattern, not loving the fit. If only I had arms 5 inches longer, another 6" of bust and was taller with broad shoulders. I am no waif, this is just a larger-than-me cardigan.
I am not ripping it to re-do. Just no heart for it, the yarn itself is kind of tender. I'll probably just wear it around the house, sob.
postscript: 24 hours later , leaving to spend the day with an old friend, I threw it in my bag. She has always been 5 " taller and proportioned for her height. It was a perfect fit. What might have seemed like gauge kicking my tush again was actually divine intervention.
(I'm not 100% behind selling myself on the divine intervention bit, but it takes the sting out of the whole situation, you know?).
Ok, gauge, we'll talk again. soon.