take THAT, mattress stitch!

I've always hated mattress stitch.

And why is it sometimes called mattress stitch and sometimes called kitchener stitch? And why is another stitch used in making Aran sweaters sometimes called blackberry stitch and sometimes called trinity? Why is it sometimes called seed and sometimes called moss? Why can't we all just get along?

But I digress.

I usually seam with backstitch. I feel like I'm in an inner circle of knowledge by foregoing mattress stitch for backstitch when I finish an object. I call it mattress stitch because I like kitchens, and mattress stitch makes it sound like a cheap two-bit floozy somehow, rolling about on a dingy, unwashed mattress with no sheets, as if I'm so much better than she is. I don't have seaming parties. I toss unfinished garments into pretty little boxes purchased specifically for that purpose at The Container Store and place information about them in my sidebar with a percentage of, say, 92% complete, even though I began said objects in, say, 1999, and all that needs to happen here is a little bit of mattressing and picking up the edges for the neck and buttonholes.

That said, when I got to the end of Zillah, it became patently obvious to my cat, whom we refer to as Beans, even though that's not his real name, and The Man Who Lives in the House that mattress stitch was the only way to go in finishing her. Why? Because Jane Ellison's design determined that the same number of stitches lined up to the same number of stitches.

I hate that. The Man Who Lives in the House hates that. Beans really hates that.

Despite the necessity of waking up The Floozy, I smacked her around and I kept her in line. Pictures to come later. Pictures which will knock your socks off. I totally rock at mattress stitch. I might just pick up that Filatura di Crosa cardigan and finish it yet.