sock junkie
When Harvey was a shoe-size pup, I said to B one day: what if I don't love him when he grows up? What if he is not as cute when his little snub nose grows into a full-size dachshund snout? B said, ridiculous!
As I blocked Faina's Scarf last weekend, marvelling at how the yarn got softer after a block and stretch, how the fabric changed, at how light it was in my hands when all folded up, I thought about what project comes next. I am trying to be a serial monogamist with projects, only having one affair at a time alongside the tedious marriage of end-weaving. I was pretty certain that I would do Heidi's socks, which I look at as someone else footing the bill for my addiction. It doesn't apply in this case, I was delighted when she asked me if I wanted to make her socks, but I am starting to notice how people ask you to knit stuff as if they're asking you to pass them a Kleenex. But I did think: what if I don't really like knitting socks after all? What if those tiny tiny stitches drive me nuts and I develop massive "second sock syndrome"?
After one very frustrating night when I tried to get them on the sticks via Socks! The Next Step and its inscrutable instructions (to be fair, I probably shouldn't have tried to do this the same night I had a meltdown about the medical condition), I have been knitting happily away. So I guess it's like Harvey love: it never gets smaller, only bigger. I am now waking up early to read knitblogs or surf pattern rings or knit a few stitches. I was nearly late for a meeting yesterday because I wanted to sit in my car listening to The Secret Life of Bees from audible.com and knitting just one more row. And I don't do late for meetings.
And besides, I think miles of stockinette is just the ticket for teaching myself to knit Continental. The throwing has hurt my wrist more lately and made my right pinkie alternate tingly and numb. So far, the remapping of synapses in my brain is going fine, but I find it harder to purl Continental, and this project so far has no opportunity for practicing that.
If nothing else, Socks! The Next Step is a fantastic read-out-loud-in-bed kind of book. B took his his turn the other night and now cannot stop laughing about the sock "revolution." He's mustered Harvey into the guerrilla sock revolutionary army, and Harvey keeps singing, "Can you hear the guns, Fernando?" And if you've never heard Harvey sing, well, you're missin' something. We all want to be part of the revolution. And we'll be well socked because of it. (Mea culpa, all my good-girl apologies to Carole Wulster.)
As I blocked Faina's Scarf last weekend, marvelling at how the yarn got softer after a block and stretch, how the fabric changed, at how light it was in my hands when all folded up, I thought about what project comes next. I am trying to be a serial monogamist with projects, only having one affair at a time alongside the tedious marriage of end-weaving. I was pretty certain that I would do Heidi's socks, which I look at as someone else footing the bill for my addiction. It doesn't apply in this case, I was delighted when she asked me if I wanted to make her socks, but I am starting to notice how people ask you to knit stuff as if they're asking you to pass them a Kleenex. But I did think: what if I don't really like knitting socks after all? What if those tiny tiny stitches drive me nuts and I develop massive "second sock syndrome"?
After one very frustrating night when I tried to get them on the sticks via Socks! The Next Step and its inscrutable instructions (to be fair, I probably shouldn't have tried to do this the same night I had a meltdown about the medical condition), I have been knitting happily away. So I guess it's like Harvey love: it never gets smaller, only bigger. I am now waking up early to read knitblogs or surf pattern rings or knit a few stitches. I was nearly late for a meeting yesterday because I wanted to sit in my car listening to The Secret Life of Bees from audible.com and knitting just one more row. And I don't do late for meetings.
And besides, I think miles of stockinette is just the ticket for teaching myself to knit Continental. The throwing has hurt my wrist more lately and made my right pinkie alternate tingly and numb. So far, the remapping of synapses in my brain is going fine, but I find it harder to purl Continental, and this project so far has no opportunity for practicing that.
If nothing else, Socks! The Next Step is a fantastic read-out-loud-in-bed kind of book. B took his his turn the other night and now cannot stop laughing about the sock "revolution." He's mustered Harvey into the guerrilla sock revolutionary army, and Harvey keeps singing, "Can you hear the guns, Fernando?" And if you've never heard Harvey sing, well, you're missin' something. We all want to be part of the revolution. And we'll be well socked because of it. (Mea culpa, all my good-girl apologies to Carole Wulster.)
posted by nann at 6:29 AM
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