One Sleeve, Two Sleeve, Watch Me Knit a New Sleeve

Here is the elder of two sibling sleeves.  Actually, it's the wrong side of the elder of two sibling sleeves.  I am showing it this way for two compelling reasons:

1.    I think the "wrong" sides of things are really interesting:  Who's to say my wrong side isn't somebody else's right side?  It's like the difference between Flowers and Weeds.  Ask a child which is which and they will surprise you...

2.    This is supposed to be a titillating sneak preview, not a full-frontal sleeve expose', otherwise you would just read my blog and not buy my book.  Or so the theory goes.

I suffer from clinical bouts of Second Sleeve Syndrome.  It's the same malady that keeps me becoming a respectable sock knitter.  The crushing realization that I have to start all over again tends to suck a lot of the joy out of the completion of the first unit for me.

Here's a closeup of some groovy floats.  They don't call it "Stranded Color Work" for nothin - once you have the first sleeve done, you are marooned on the Island of the Second Sleeve until you gain the fortitude to either wait for your rescue or swim to safety.

Swimming to Safety:  Here's the hem facing of the second sleeve.  Yeah, sure I started, but it's a long way to the armhole.  The thing in the foreground is my stitch marker that fell off.

The body of this little gem is all done, so I have no excuse not to wail all the way up the sleeve and have it all over with.  This is also a benchmark project:  The last of 5 cardigans in my book.  Lots of people have stopped to talk to me as I worked on it in public, which I take to be a good sign.  Of course, it could be just the screaming green wool that I'm using for the main color (of the outside, that is).  It's a perfect example of my trademark subtlety and restraint.  Kinda like a freight train at a prayer meeting.