When it comes to knitting sweaters, I have a pattern. No matter how energetically I start, two years later I'll only have the back, front, and lonely sleeve of a painfully dated sweater. Kate Davies' Owls Sweater is the exception. The more I knit, the more I liked knitting it, until I gave myself a wrist injury cabling the owls on the yoke. But now I have to sew on 40+ wee button eyes to a stubbornly fluid piece of fabric, all so my decorative owls can see. This seems like the kind of tedious work in the service of twee that should be contracted. Who would be an appropriate party? The missing third Deschanel sister?
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