Monday, August 21, 2006

A Knitting P.S.

How you know your brain isn't firing on all cylinders during Deadline Psychosis:

You're knitting a cuff-down sock. You finish the ribbing. You finish the leg. You smile your way through the heel flap. (You just love heel flaps.) You pick up your gusset stitches, both sides, and continue on your merry Magic Loop-y way.

But something doesn't look right. You stare at the sock. You're not quite sure what it is but a human foot might be a tad uncomfortable in there.

And then it hits you. You forgot to turn the heel.

Embarrassing admission: this wasn't the first time.

Even more embarrassing admission: it probably won't be the last time either.

Barbara, who won't be getting behind the wheel of the car until this book is finito


Blogger Dana said...

Atleast you have the excuse of a deadline......(see my 8-17 entry,artistincognito, I still haven't gotten up the steam to try again.

8:04 AM  
Anonymous Anna said...

I must admit that I've done this once...or maybe twice. :)

9:10 AM  
Blogger Not An Artist said...

I'm convinced that you only really become a sock knitter once you have achieved this milestone. Really.

6:48 PM  
Blogger Nancy Herkness said...

What is the mystique with knitting socks? I've never done this so I don't get it. Can someone explain why it seems to be a transcendent experience for a knitter?

8:10 PM  
Blogger Barbara Bretton said...

Sister knitters, I say unto you that the other milestones are 1) mastering dpns for the first time and 2) the Great Sock Knitting Death Wish. You're knitting along happily and suddenly, for no logical reason whatsoever, you pull out the needle and release masses of working stitches into the wild.

And, Nancy, please please don't tempt me. I'm still not finished with the #@*@! novella but I am sorely tempted to tell you all about the Mystique of the Sock. I didn't understand it either until I (sorry) stuck my toe in it so to speak. The first time you master double points you'll feel like a goddess. But the first time you turn a heel, you will have split the atom, climbed Everest, painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and out Kitchenered Elizabeth Zimmerman. It IS a transcendent experience. You'll never be the same.

8:30 PM  
Blogger Nancy Herkness said...

Wow! Clearly I've got to take up sock knitting.

10:56 PM  
Blogger LauraP said...

I did such a happy dance the first time I turned a heel - scared the cat. And oh, the feel of a hand-knit sock as it gently hugs the instep...heavenly.

12:18 PM  
Blogger Barbara Bretton said...

I have to admit I didn't understand what all the fuss was about re socks either. I wanted to learn how to knit them because they seemed a knitterly rite of passage, the same as learning to use dpns or circs or cabling w/o a needle. I mean, why put all of that effort into something that was going to be stuffed in a shoe and forgotten about?

Once I made my first wearable sock and slipped it on, I was well and truly sunk. It is a luxury beyond description. Pure utter bliss. Even my husband, my beloved Goldisox who has a stash of socks from Cost Co, admits that handmade is something extraordinary.

Nancy, you won't know until you try and once you do you'll be a raging sock addict too.

12:47 PM  

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