As promised, I am posting pics of the almost-finished sock that brought me undone (it was definitely this sock, and had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I have been knitting almost non-stop for months on end, on tiny needles with 4ply yarn, faster and faster, and have recently made a lot of socks with 1×1 rib or a lot of knit/purl textured patterns, thereby throwing the yarn twice for each stitch. Nope, that’s all irrelevant. This sock is totally at fault). Also, I’d like to apologise right now; these pics suck. I will endeavour to do better by you tomorrow.
This is the first of my Dad’s Christmas socks. He has freakishly long, thin feet. These socks fit my foot around, but are five centimetres longer! This is somewhat of a shock to the system after knitting socks for my hubby and FIL, both of whom have great huge wide feet and high insteps. The other odd thing about knitting socks for my dad is that despite the fact that he rides a Harley and has long hair which he wears in a plait down his back, he is much more conservative than my retired school principal FIL, or my office working, suit-and-tie-wearing husband. Thus his socks are plain blue Patonyle, in a very simple and unobjectionable textured pattern. Here’s a detail:
See the diamond I’ve filled in with moss-stitch? There are three of these on this sock, and there will be four more on sock #2, representing the seven grandchildren. I will not be telling my dad this, however, as he is entirely capable of asking me to add more diamonds when other grandbabies are born (I know I’m done, but my brothers and sister aren’t finished yet). So the significance of the diamonds? Just between you and me.
Many thanks for all the kind comments yesterday. I am following orders and resting and icing the wrist and it’s feeling better already. I’ll keep off it until Monday, just to be safe. The biggest downers about being benched just now?
- In the next few days I have a paediatrician’s appointment for one child, an optometrist’s appointment for the other, and a meeting at first child’s school. That means a whole lotta waiting room time, with no knitting.
- When my hands are busy knitting, they are pretty effectively prevented from stuffing food in my face. Please, somebody save me from the beautiful glass bowl of roasted nuts on my coffee-table.
So, until I’m back among the sock-producing community, can anyone suggest a good book to read? A Sustaining sort of book, such as would help and comfort a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness?
Kiss My Frog 