Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip!

I finished Goldisox's top-down cardigan a few months ago and I still haven't posted a photo. Well, there's a reason.

I hate it.

Oh, Goldisox loves it. He thinks it's just terrific but I swear to you any time I see him put it on I want to tear it off his body . . . and not in a good way.

Today I finally snapped. "Don't wear that outside," I begged him. "Please don't wear it in public."

He thought I was crazy. "There's nothing wrong with it."

"Yes, there is."

"It's a sweater," he said. "It fits. It's a great color. You did a terrific job. What's the problem?"

What could I do? All I had left was the truth. "It makes you look stupid."

I'm sorry, but it does. Now Goldisox is pretty cute if I do say so myself. Tall. Still has a full head of hair (this becomes important when you cross the 50 marker) and none of it is grey. No middle-aged paunch. I mean, I should be so lucky. But that sweater . . . Holy Elizabeth Zimmerman, that sweater needs help.

It took me a long time to figure out what was wrong with it but a few weeks ago it dawned on me that just because the pattern supplied an alternate collar and buttonbands (both of which Goldisox requested) that didn't mean they were a good idea. Because, trust me, they weren't. Now I haven't seen a man's cardigan in years. I love 'em but they're really not a big fashion item out there except in an L. L. Bean catalog so it took some thinking to determine the following:

1. Men's cardigans should not have collars. Of any kind.
2. Men's cardigans are meant to be low-cut in the front, not bouncing around the adam's apple.
3. This pattern would look infinitely better with a zip-front.

So when Goldisox went out this afternoon I locked the door, set the alarm, and reached for my scissors. Yes, you read right. My scissors. I sat down on the sofa with the sweater, a can of Diet Pepsi, and flipped on The Sopranos for inspiration. (What would you watch if you were going to whack a sweater?) And then I made the first cut.

You know what? It felt good. For the first time since I wove in the last end, I found myself feeling hopeful about the sweater. Liberating it from that damn stupid collar has upped its wearability quotient by at least 50%. Okay, so it needs a little finishing around the edges but that's okay. I can handle it. I snipped off the top button and gently rolled the fabric into an elongated V, similar to what you find on normal cardigans and guess what? It looked like something Richie Cunningham would have worn to Arnold's. And no, that's not an insult. (That's how much I hated the way the sweater looked pre-surgery.)

So now I have to decide what to do next: do I do a little basting and turn the sweater into a normal cardigan or do I rip out the buttonbands and sew in a zipper? Of course then I'll have to add the shawl collar the pattern recommends but I've seen the photo and know it all works well together.

I'd show you a photo but he doesn't know I slashed his collar. I figure I'll tell him tomorrow when he's watching the Jets play the Patriots. He'll already be in so much pain, he'll never notice . . .