New Sock Season

Hey, Pat --  Today is October 15 -- the date when one is permitted to start wearing new wool socks. (Because I said so.) And, as I'd hoped, I did finish 6 orphan pairs over the course of the summer. Of course, I'd have greatly preferred to enjoy all the distractions full of people that would have kept me from doing so much knitting, but I am trying to celebrate this small achievement. (Not to worry! There are more to finish.)

Those Mittens

Hi, Pat --  

You know how I get charmed by a pattern and make it over and over. Just like David Byrne says, “I don’t know why I love it like I do. . .”

I made the first pair of Aline mittens in August 2019. (Pronounce that like the woman’s name, not like an A-line skirt.) I think I’ve made nine pairs now, although I kept forgetting to take pictures, so I am not sure; it could be eight or ten. They look weird and misshapen in the photo, but the combination of ribbing and cable on the top makes them pull in to fit all kinds of hands, and you eliminate that floppy mitten feeling that can happen if you guess wrong re size. They feel wonderful when you put them on.

The pattern is free from Garnstudio, available at https://www.garnstudio.com/pattern.php?id=7186&cid=17 . 

The layout they use for their patterns  is notoriously difficult to use, because everything is condensed and run together to save space. The first thing I do when I plan to use one of their patterns is copy it to a Word document on my computer. Then I:

• type the URL at the bottom of that file
• delete extraneous photos and advertising (which usually eliminates several pages)
• Change the font to a 12-point typeface that I like

Now I can get to work making the pattern work for me. This makes the knitting so much easier – and as a side benefit, lets me do a careful preview of the pattern.

I reformat so it looks like the patterns we are used to using, which means I usually put almost every sentence on a line of its own. I change the way they write the numbers of stitches and measurements for several sizes at once to a format that works for me. Then I’ve eliminated all distractions and can just get knitting.

I think it’s time to cast on another pair. . .one or two more and I probably won’t even need the pattern anymore!

First Sock Syndrome

 

Everyone’s heard of second sock syndrome – suffered by many who are emotionally finished after knitting just one sock of a pair. But there is an unusual variant – first sock syndrome. So many times I s-l-o-g through the initial ribbing, inch along on the leg, make it around the heel turn, and then take a long time to get to the toe. 

But something exciting happens as soon as I cast on sock #2. At that moment, the project is more than 50% completed. Even the pesky ribbing at the beginning of this sock flies by, the leg is a joy, the heel turn provides an element of mounting excitement, and the foot is the exciting sprint to the finish line (aka the toe).

Case in point: the first sock in this pair was completed about a year after it was cast on. The sock on the needles went from the point you see to finished in just two days. 

 

Sock Discipline

 

For the last several years, my summer tradition has been to pick up socks that have been flung aside, unfinished, during the course of the preceding fall/winter/spring. A new, enticing yarn crying out to be cast on, or somebody’s birthday that calls for handmade socks, or the sudden unanticipated need to knit a Lopi sweater lures me away, and my own socks sink into the background.

Every year I hope to have six new pairs ready to join the rotation. Every year, I end up with four. Two important birthdays, one in August and one in October, tend to derail me.

Wool Sock Season opens October 15 (because I said so). In extreme emergencies, including early frost or folk festivals in the rain – in years when those are an option—wool socks may be worn before that date, but never the new ones.

This year, with more stay-home time and a need to impose some external order to keep from drifting aimlessly 24/7, I’ve decided I have to work for at least 30 minutes, every day, on one of those discarded pairs of socks. 

The rules are:

• The pair to be featured must be already in progress. It is not permitted to cast on a new pair for this purpose, no matter how seductive the yarn. (Of course I still cast on new pairs – but they don’t qualify for the 30-minute program.)
•  Once the pair to be completed has been chosen, there is to be no diverging from this path of righteousness. . . that pair, and that pair alone, is the subject of each day’s 30-minute session.
•  No dabbling in two or three pairs at a time will be tolerated.

For three or four days, it’s a chore. Then, after about four days, real progress is easy to see and the scent of the finish line makes me go faster and faster. . .

And -- we're back!

 Pat and I were talking, and we decided this would be a fine time to drag this dusty old thing out and play with it some more. I can't believe it's been two years since we just stopped, unplanned and unintended.

We still knit! A lot! We even still knit socks (also a lot). Pat is still a WAY better photographer, but at least I now have a phone with a better camera.

My own plan is to post on the second and fourth Tuesdays of each month, because I find deadlines helpful. Pat is still deciding on her approach.

See you next week!