Sock of Doom

Since I have been blabbing about my sock knitting disaster the past few days, I thought I'd give an update.

Yesterday, as you may recall, I realized I had started my gussets before I turned the sock heel, and I ripped back to the end of the heel flap and got all the stitches back on the needles in a half-assed sort of way. After that, I put the sock in its little red pouch so I could do some serious self-recrimination.

Today was a new day. The air was clear, the sun was shining, birds were singing, and I went off to work with an idiotic smile on my face. Can you tell where this is heading?

Around 10:30 we had a small break in the action at work, so I pulled out the sock, confident that I was of clear mind and yippy-skippy attitude. I fixed all the stitches to they were whole-assed, not half-assed. I picked up a few dropped stitches, fixed some slipped stitches, righted some twisted stitches, and repaired some split stitches. Maybe 'repaired' is a little grand. The yarn was shredded and looked like hell, but I decided that the only way to fix that was to rip back again and start with a new piece of yarn. I'm a perfectionist in theory, but a realist in practice. On I forged.

After all the stitches were happy and smiling and lined up like little schoolgirls, I set to work in earnest. First, I picked up stitches along the sides of the heel flap.* I started knitting across the instep. I got to the point where I was going to redistribute stitches to work on the gussets.*

That's when I said 'D'oh!'

And then I said to myself something a little more salty.

And then I un-knit back to where I had started for the day.

How many ways can you spell D-U-M-B? How many ways can you BE dumb? Well, let me count the ways, for I am inventing new ones daily.

At this point, I got out a copy of the pattern.** Understand, I have knit socks from this pattern for so long that I memorized it years ago, and can usually knit a sock with only my pinkies and both eyeballs tied behind my back. While I stand on my head. In a bucket full of syrup. Naked. On drugs.

(Come to think of it, after years of doing the above, maybe I have some cognitive impairment).

I forced myself to read the pattern, a line at a time, and knit one row at a time, pausing to admire my work after each row. I'm relieved to say the sock now has a heel, and I don't have to go buy coaches' shorts to wear with tube socks.

After turning the heel, I carefully put the sock away in its pouch, so it wouldn't attack again.

It may be several days, and several pints of vodka, before I attempt the next step, FINALLY picking up the gusset stitches. Or maybe I'll just strip and get out the bucket of syrup.

*See yesterday's post.

**Nancy Lindberg's Knit to Fit sock pattern, # NL 7. A fine pattern. I recommend it for anyone of normal intelligence and sound mind.

Rookie Mistakes

I made sure to bring my knitting to work today. Yesterday I forgot it, and suffered the tortures of the damned. Well, OK, I was slightly inconvenienced. Whatever.

I have been working bit by bit on a pair of socks. On the first sock, I somehow distributed the stitches askew when I was repositioning my needles for starting the gusset. I was almost done with the gussets when I realized the sole of the sock was very narrow, and the instep was ballooning.

I ripped out back to the gusset pick-ups and re-did them. Do you know how hard it is to pick up off-the-needle stitches with size 0 needles? It might have been quicker to start the entire sock over.

I learned my lesson, so on the second sock when I was ready for the gussets* I made sure to count my stitches and distribute them correctly. I had done two rounds when something just felt wrong. I held up my sock. Yes, the gussets looked even. I recounted the stitches and yes, I had the correct number on each needle. No, there were no dropped stitches.

And no, there was no heel. Ah.

If you are a sock knitter, you know that it is helpful to put a heel in your sock, unless you want to relive the Tube Sock glory of the 1970s, when you could buy white, knee-high athletic tube socks in big economy packs of 750 and when people's socks were perpetually uncomfortable, ill-fitting, and prone to creeping down into their shoes. Don't you just love that feeling of a huge lump of sock under your arch? Keeps you awake better than coffee.

So ...

I ripped out back to before the gusset pick-ups and got all the stitches back on the needle. Do you know how hard it is to pick up off-the-needle stitches with size 0 needles? It might have been quicker to start the entire sock over. (Is this sounding familiar?) I'm now ready to turn the heel. As soon as I get done with the self-flagellation and the wearing of the hair shirt, which I knit from the hairs of my Labrador.

*I thought I was ready for the gussets.

Moment of Zen

My job at the yarn store is a dream job. During the lunch hour, when people come in to knit and chat, and between helping other customers, we get to knit along with the lunch group. I usually have a pair of socks on the needles, and little by little, the socks magically get finished. Both socks, as opposed to my usual one-sock-wonders that end up as part of a zany mismatched pair.

(The definition of a one-sock-wonder is: One wonders where the other sock went). Dryers can create one-sock-wonders too, as we all know. And who hasn't had that experience where you wonder what that lump under the bedsheet is?

I digress
Yesterday, having changed knitting bags, I went off to work. It was a gorgeous early fall day, and I had an idiotic smile on my face.

I got to work and pulled out my things. I had several things in my backpack. My lunch. My wallet. My phone. My keys. No knitting.

Now, knitting is my panacea. It keeps my little hands busy so I don't overeat, don't smoke, don't pick at things, don't, as the t-shirt says, kill people. And though there was plenty of work to be done helping customers, stocking shelves, and the like, the noon group kept asking me why I wasn't knitting.

"I'm having a moment of Zen" I said. They didn't buy it. I had to fess up.

When I got home, the first thing I did was to find my knitting in my other bag, and put it in my backpack. I slept well last night.