I have absolutely ZERO interest in knitting the second sock of this pair. No no. As my colleague Greg would say, "this is what negative numbers were invented for."
Sock number one is fabulous. Warm, snug, fits just right, and possibly the first time I tried something new and started with the pattern that has the word SIMPLE in the title. Usually I start with the one that has "Will make you want to put your thumbs through your eyes" in the title.
Oh yeah. You know you want photos.
Aaaah. So lovely. Self-stripey goodness.
Look at that lovely, even, strong heel flap. That is ONE LUCKY HEEL.
The socks are a washable worsted weight, made on 2 US5 24 inch circular needles, and the pattern is Simple Ribbed Sock from Cat Bordhi's Socks Soar on Two Circular Needles. They are my first pair of socks made with a heel flap. I say "first pair" as if there are two of them. In fact, there are not.
I know I'm not alone in this. My mom used to make clothes for my sister and me, but she never made the same thing twice. I'd get a jumper (made of blue cotton with little purple bees on it) and Laura would get a dress with capped sleeves, which I would later inherit. I assume she just got bored and didn't want to do the same thing twice.
If you google Second Sock Syndrome, you get a list of things you can do to alleviate the pains of casting on a second sock. Sadly, I didn't read the posts until after finishing the first sock. I didn't know I could make two at once. Wouldn't that take the "SIMPLE" out of this pair? Mostly finishing the first one, then doing the second, then going back to finish the first? That won't work on me. I'm not fooled. That's a knitting equivalent to setting the clock forward a few minutes. I can subtract as well as I can add. The clock trick doesn't work either.
So, what am I to do? I can force myself to finish the second sock (which has been cast-on already). I can find a one-legged friend. I can use it to torture the kitties (they LOVE the sock-on-the-head trick. Love. It.). Thing is, I really do want that other sock. I can't give it to someone else to knit for 2 reasons. 1. Nobody wants to. 2. It wouldn't fit right, probably.
Oh, crap. Well, hope for cold weather for Portland. If it's really cold out, I'll stay home and knit, and have John hide the other projects.
ETA: There were socks made, a pair, even, before this pair. The pattern is from Vogue Knitting, and I was so excited about trying embroidery for the first time that I finished both of the black, knee-length socks in no time. It also helped that I was at a conference in Knoxville, TN, so that's two very long flights and lots of long talks. Ask anyone. I was crazy to make this my first sock attempt.
I wore them to a talk I gave at a nearby university, and the person who introduced me said, "This is Stephanie, and I think she made her socks."
5 comments:
Steph--
Get over yourself and just knit the sock! It's mindless, quick knitting, and you'll be done before you know it. It's all the whining that's getting you down. Really. Digging in your heels like a 3 year old having a tantrum in Target is not going to change anything. You need the second sock, so just get a grip and knit it.
Your friend,
Elaine
The viney sock is kewt. You know. Ka-yute. Like, "Poppies like that" cute.
I LOVE those socks! I would pay big bucks for a pair.
Oh, yeah. The flowered socks are fantastic. And let me point out, asymmetrical. The other one has the vine around the top, and not down the side. The embroidery took 3 hours per sock. Totally worth it, though.
Oh, my, that black, embroidered sock is *gorgeous*. I haven't knit socks in a while, but these did tempt me. There's also a very cute pair of fishnet-y socks (also knee length) in one of the recent Rowan magazines.
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