I have actually started the socks. Here is a photo to prove it, although it is already out of date:
This is actually yesterday's photo. The ribbing has reached 1 1/2 inches and I have moved on to basic stockinette stitch.
I can see already that sock-knitting contributes to even greater knitting obsession. Of course one of the advantages of knitting is that one can just pick it up and knit a row here and there whenever one has a few moments or needs to steal a few moments for peace of mind. Socks, on four needles magnify the opportunities. No more the "I have to finish a whole row" excuses to not pick up the current project. Heat a cup of coffee, knit a little, making tea, knit a bit. Wait for the pasta water to boil, several sections on the DP' can be knitted up in that time. Every momentary pause becomes a potential knitting experience. Oh My!
Socks are more portable, and are pretty stable on their needle so there seems less chance of lost or dropped stitches. If I had taken my socks with me in the car yesterday I might have made it to the farmer's market instead of just the grocery store.
But what I am I talking about??
The cupboards were truly bare. Swamp thing here (me) did not want to face the public, and had been subjecting the beloved spouse to frozen vegetables and leftovers for far to long. Since we would be out most of the weekend, I thought a quick trip to the local produce/gourmet market, and the best farmstand in the area were called for so I could make a mini-grocery run for two nights only.
Alas! I turned onto Route 9G and and got half-way to the Route 199 light and stopped dead. Nothing was moving. I read the Wall Street Journal. I read the Boston Proper catalogue -- believe me this did not entertain me nearly as much as the paper. By the time I finished and wondered what I would do next I was near the light and able to discern that the non-flowing traffic would probably continue all the way across the bridge to Kingston (boo hoo). Migliorelli's farm stand was half way between me and the bridge. At my current rate of progression it would take another hour to hour-and-a-half. Screw it. I headed north, doubled back on less populated roads, and went to the grocery store like most people. I once would have said that fresh produce was worth every effort -- well I disproved that theory.
We survived dinner anyway. Now if I had brought my socks along, would I have sat in the car, patiently resting in knitting in heaven, waiting for the car ahead of me to move. Not bloody likely, but I like to imagine that it might have happened that way.
I think I will carry the poor sock around with me more. It is slow knitting after all, perhaps because I am not particularly adept. Sock knitting will be great travel knitting, Socks will not be great concert knitting however. I need to hold the needles up high and peer intently at what I am doing. With a standard sweater with a simple pattern I can rest the knittng in my lap and knit away while I listen to the music. The purists object. The obviously don't comprehend that I listen better when knitting, controlled fidgetting after all, rather than when my mind and fingers wander restlesslly hoping for any relief for their general state of aggitation.
There must be some kind of knitting zen.
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