Knit Along: Stirrup Socks from Purl Soho - Day 5

The needles don't pin me down, they hold me up

Goodness but that took much longer than I was expecting, even with focusing on one sock.  I just found my original timetable, and this post should have occurred two weeks ago.  I love my life and my fabulous job, but I just wish everything were a little more predictable.

To my surprise, as I stared down at this taking-forever-but-worth-it sock, I found myself missing our days in the hospital.  Not having a sick son--I hope cancer never darkens the path of anyone in my family ever again--but the pure distilled nature of life in a hospital.  The simplicity of utter survival.  No one expected anything of you but to receive information, make a few decisions, and essentially just exist. As my son’s doctors told him, “Your job is to just lie there and take it.  We do everything else.”

Crises of the hospital inpatient variety involve a lot of downtime.  A lot of sitting around waiting for tests, procedures, doctors, even waiting for the other shoe to drop and disaster to come.  As I look back (it’s one year ago tomorrow that my son was admitted), I realize what a tremendous blessing knitting was to me in that time.  Knitting allowed me to be where I was, focusing enough of my attention on my son to be what he needed, but occupying enough of my attention that I managed to wade the edges of worry instead of drowning in it.  The progress I made on projects was a reminder the the world hadn’t ground to a complete halt, even when it felt like it had.  

People were impressed that I could knit.  People were impressed that I could complete a sentence, actually.  But there was only one horrid dark night where I couldn’t even knit.  The rest of the time, I HAD to knit to keep myself together.  A soothing project like the ribbing of these stirrup socks would have been exactly the type of project I’d crave.  

Looking back today, as I round the final corner--or stirrup, actually--of this sock, I say a prayer of thankfulness for all the yarn and needles in my life.  And the fellow knitters, like you, who wield them toward a more comforting world.

Knit Along: Stirrup Socks from Purl Soho - Day 4

You know, I thought I’d be so much farther along by now.

Isn’t that always the way?  You plan something out, think you’ve given yourself enough time, and suddenly you find yourself with the knitting equivalent of an all-nighter.  Luckily, it’s not Christmas and these socks are not destined to be anyone’s birthday present.  But I am beginning to wonder if Spring will have sprung by the time I am finished.

So what’s a girl to do?  Bail.

Well, not really bail.  If I were bailing, I’d be running straight toward the short sock option on the pattern (even though you’re supposed to start out with less stitches).  I’m not going to do that, I’m sticking with my long socks because that’s what I want.  

So, I prefer to think I’m adapting.  Realist that I am, I have come to the conclusion that I cannot get both socks done at the same time and still keep to a timetable that will not bore you to tears (anyone realize I’ve faced this particular issue before????).  Unfortunately, those nice folks at my publisher will not accept “I had to get the socks done” as a reason for why my book isn’t in on deadline.  Not that I didn’t toy with the idea.  Writers everywhere will tell you even tuckpointing looks attractive when you’re doing anything to avoid buckling down to meet a deadline.

So I will do these socks the old fashioned way:  one at a time.  Yes, I got out my dpn’s today and separated our fibrous conjoined twins.  As a courtesy to you, DestiKNITters, I’ll only make you watch Thing Number One.  Thing Number Two will get done on Spring Break post book deadline, alongside the very cool scarf that is our second knit-along from New York.

Onward!  Well, after I get today’s word count done on the manuscript.  Which I’ve avoided by writing this blog.  See how this works?

Knit Along: Stirrup Socks from Purl Soho - Day 3

Worth the Wait...

Ribbing is calming.  Maybe too calming.  

Truth be told, I’m getting a little bored here.  Sure, I’ve got to wrangle a decrease every seven rounds, but the other six are...well...tedious.  That’s good “television” knitting, good “boring meeting” knitting, but I haven’t had much time for either of those lately.    

I look at my row chart and see something like 12 more repeats of this decrease stuff and it stretches before me like a flat, straight highway.  It’s times like these when you start gaining an appreciation for size 13 needles.

Still, these socks have such a marvelous elasticity. I love the subtle color changes in the heathered purple of my yarn.  These remind me of the leg-warmers I adored back in high school and college (eek, showing my age here).  And I’ve just the rain boots for these with spring coming.

And so it is that I return to my biggest knitting challenge: patience. In knitting and life, I’m an impatient gal.  It’s not lack of skill that has botched so many bind-off’s in my knitting career, it’s impatience to finish the project.

So practice patience alongside me:  these are going to take a while.  But like most things long in coming, they are sure to be worth the wait.

Kind of like Spring in Chicago.

Knit Along: Stirrup Socks from Purl Soho - Day 2

"If they're looking at the back of your calves..."

I think of ribbing as calming. Like the ocean waves, two knit, two purl, etc.  A heartbeat.  Yin and Yang if you’re into that sort of thing.  I love the texture, the hills and valleys, the elasticity of a ribbed piece.

Throw a decrease in there, especially one that supposed to look nice, and all my zen is gone.  I get the concept of the decrease.  Mentally, I know what’s supposed to happen.  And I’ve been knitting for years, so I should be able to tell what’s a knit, what’s a purl, and whether or not I really did decrease last round.  Ha.

There is now a pen and paper in my knitting bag, and you can guess why.  The pattern calls for decreases every seven rows, and my first twenty rows ain’t lookin’ so purdy, if you know what I mean.  Of course, these are the top of the socks, the things everyone can see.  Eek.  It’s time to call forth my usual knitting slogan (stolen shamelessly from EZ) that “if I man running for his life can’t see it, it’s not a mistake, but a design element.”

And to adapt a phrase from my late mother, “If they’re looking at the back of your calves, dear, then you’ve done something wrong already.”

With any luck, I’ll have get the hang of it and have stunning stirrupped ankles.  Clear plastic rainboots, anyone?

And just because I can’t resist, check out this photo of me enjoying a houndstooth smart car at the Chicago Auto Show.  Yes, I knit the scarf I’m wearing (but not the car). Think of the possibilities here!  The DestiKNITionsmobile... although in reality, I must  confess to being a massive fan of the Nissan Cube.

Don’t forget to comment so you can win!

Knit Along: Stirrup Socks from Purl Soho - Day 1

A good ribbing...

I’ve decided we don’t give nearly enough credit to the rib.

Actually, I’ve worn enough socks to remind me I don’t respect ribbing enough.  You know the kind of rib-less, mass-produced sock I’m talking about--usually from a department or discount store.  They’re deceptive, making you think thin and synthetic is sleek and chic.  They lure you in with their perky, clever patterns...

...until you go to take them off at the end of the long day.  There, facing you below your knees, is a clear, disturbing dent in your calves from where they were too tight on top.  You begin to wonder what kind of cellular damage has been wrought throughout your day, wonder if these strangulating socks were indeed the reason for your never-ending fatigue and general crankiness.  After all, nothing as cozy as socks should ever leave a mark.

It is then that I run to a pair of hand-knit socks, sure to hug my tender cankles in soft, forgiving ribbing.  No marks, no scars.  Unless, of course, these were toe-up socks and I botched the bind off (okay, it’s been known to happen).

I hold these hand-crafted socks from Purl Soho and know, just by how the first inches feel, that they will be comfortable, warm, and a delight to wear.  It’s in the give of the wool, the rhythm of the rib, the artistry of a good pair of hand knit socks.

These will be like that, I can just tell.  You can probably hear my sigh all the way to New York.

Chime in with your comment to win this “P” totebag from Purl Soho.  I’ll even throw in an Allie Pleiter book of your choice if you like, just because I think you’re spiffy, too!