Sunday, April 29, 2007

Lime and Violet made me do it

My First Pair of Socks!
Yes, I have succumbed to the title-wave of yammering about how great socks are to knit. Thanks a lot Lime and Violet!

k, it's not totally their fault but they definitely played a big part.

You know those people who keep insisting that watching violence and playing violent video games do not make people do violent things. I don't know about that. I was resigned that I would never knit socks.


But I listen to podcasts, I read blogs, and slowly I find myself thinking about socks,
hand-made, knit socks.
Are they really so much fun to knit?
Are the yarns so wonderful to feel slipping through your fingers?
Is a heel really a miraculous thing to create?
Can it be true that they feel soooo amazing on the feet that I will not want to wear store bought again? [That thought was planted by Brenda Dayne. I'd curse her but I might get struck by lightening.]

I kept telling myself,
"you don't knit socks",
"your dad never liked wearing the ones his mother knit him and mailed to him on a regular basis for years because he would put his toe through them on the first wearing."
"Too tedious."
"You hate making anything twice, that's why you have never finished a sweater for yourself [except the cardi where you knit the sleeves and body all together] which is why the only thing you knit and wear that has arm holes is a vest."

I could go on but what's the use. It has all come to naught. I am forevermore condemned to knit socks!

And why? What was it that finally pushed me over the edge? A miracle.

I don't know where they came from. It is a complete mystery. I was doing laundry, in my house, and found a pair of ugly, blue socks. Two different, mismatched blues with white stripes at the cuff. I looked closer. What on earth!? Their hand knit! How did they get there? In my laundry? [I think I actually looked around. I don't know what I thought I would see, Lime and Violet twittering behind the curtains?] I was confused and curious. The yarn didn't look like anything special but so soft. I slipped them on. Game over! Ugly or not, they found a home. That was in February. I have never asked anyone about them. I'm afraid someone will claim them. Their mine!

And it really is a miracle. Look at them: [ahem...I could only find the one when the picture was taken.]

Who could love such things? Not only have I walked over to the dark side....I did it because of those hideous, cozy, wonderful socks!

I knew I had to learn. The first pair didn't have to be amazing, just functional. And here they are.

They are knit out of Red Heart Strata, a worsted weight, acrylic, self striping yarn that my daughters gave me for Christmas. After months of wanting to validate their gift and not coming up with anything it suddenly came to me.....self striping yarn = socks. They knit up quick and were not as scary as i had believed. Ya, their acrylic, ya their bulky but their great for wearing on cold days over other socks. Seeing their bright, happy colours peeking out of my pant legs make me smile. They're comfortable.

But more than that....they make me feel .... good, just good. I made them. I'm wearing them. Their cool!

Then there's my husband, Barry. For the last year or two he has mentioned he would love knit socks. Now before you say it let me assure you he had nothing to do with this tragedy. We have been married for 15 years. I am so past being swayed by his unwanted requests. BUT when he discovered I was knitting socks he knew it was only a matter of time. One evening, not long ago, I was desperate for something else to knit besides the endless rounds of an experimental poncho that never seems to end. [We'll talk about that latter] Earlier that day I had printed off a pattern for socks using Briggs and Little wool, so very plentiful in my stash. I ran up stairs during a commercial break, grabbed two colours that looked great together that I didn't think I would want for anything else and was casting on in minutes. Here is the first finished sock.

I know. It's bright. That orange is actually called "hunter orange". Barry is thrilled. I feel like I am making something that he will never wear. This wool is scratchy and thick. He never wears slippers. He's always warm but he has assured me he will wear them. [It will have to be the dead of winter with him trudging through snow before it happens.] Now I have to knit another. *sigh* oh dear. I hope I make it.

1 comment:

bluealto said...

Did Barry ever wear the blue and hunter orange socks?

Inquiring minds want to know!


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