Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sox But Were Afraid to Ask
Now and forever, my ideal Irishman: Peter O'Toole. At any age. I don't even care if he can't knit and is allergic to wool. He is PETER O'TOOLE. (And was there ever a more romantic and glorious scene than this one from LAWRENCE OF ARABIA: golden glorious Peter O'Toole racing across the vast desert with gorgeous smoldering (be still my heart) Omar Sharif. Both of them on screen at the same time. It simply doesn't get any better.
That, of course, was just a cheap and shameless ploy to get your attention. Somehow I didn't think that this would have the same effect. That peculiar striped thing to your right is in personal Hall of Knitting Fame because it represents my first successful attempt at mastering the mystery of double points.
I had myself tied up in nasty little knots over double points. I was convinced my hands wouldn't be able to manipulate four (or five) needles. I worried about ladders. I wasn't even at all convinced I understood exactly why going round and round produced stockinette but hey, I didn't have to understand it in order to do it, right?
The double points were sitting on the table in the family room. I had a skein of something ugly next to me. (I always keep a skein of something ugly next to me. It's my knitting version of the "it's okay to write crap nobody's gonna see the first draft" way of thinking. If I try something with crap yarn it's clear to even my fevered brain that THIS ISN'T THE REAL THING. You can make all the mistakes you want. You're not committed to continuing.)
So I cast on. (I broke into a sweat. I really did.) I made sure the stitches weren't twisted. (I wasn't quite sure what a twisted stitch would look like but I gave it my best shot.) And then I started to knit. Leaping between needles was a bit of a Cirque du Soleil triumph but I did it. Yes, I had laddering. (Yes, I learned how to avoid that later on.) Yes, I dropped a needle here and there. (Yes, I had a few hot flashes.) But suddenly a miracle happened and I saw a tube forming. I was knitting in a circle. There were no seams! I almost leaped off the couch in my excitement. I made my husband admire the Whatever It Was.
After a couple of inches I started to wonder, "So what's all this talk about turning a heel? Why don't I just turn an imaginary heel right here and see how it feels?" So I did. I ignored proportion and the proper # of stitches and just plopped that heel in the middle of nowhere and son of a gun if a 3D heel didn't appear!
Clearly I was invincible. So I knitted some more after the heel (didn't know about gussets or flaps at that point) and decided I would try decreasing for a toe. Lo and behold a toe began to take shape. Now I wasn't quite ready to try Kitchener so I 3-needled it and voila! A really hideous looking ugly yarn protosock was born!
That sock is a triumph, knitters! I was convinced I couldn't do it, positive I would fail. I threw roadblocks in front of my progress every step of the way. (I mean, look at that yarn? That could have stopped Elizabeth Zimmerman in her tracks.) But I did it! I had to trick myself in order to manage that, but I did it just the same.
Which is my way of saying, maybe we should start a sock project here at RTY. The sock bug seems to have bitten a few of us so maybe we could decide on either a pattern we'll all use (I'm thinking Spiral) or we'll each choose our own and start together, help each other, and see what we end up with. Socks for toddlers are easy and small and there are many hospitals out there who would welcome them.
And I'm not limiting it to just the RTY bloggers. Readers, we want you too! Tell me what you think, PLEASE! After publishing that awful sock photo I need some reassurance. (I finished my book and have too much time on my hands. Beware!)
Besides, Liam thinks it's a great idea.