victory is mine

But the socks are for Phil. I finished them yesterday evening, blocked them overnight, and put them out in the sun today to finish drying. When P got back home this evening, he obligingly tried them on, proclaimed them a perfect fit, and I've since put them away for cooler days.

My first sock, the cuff of which is pictured in the post below, was only a success in the sense that I learned a lot while doing it. It's recognisably a sock, all right, but it would take a very strange foot and leg to fill it, because I jacked up the decreases after turning the heel. But that's OK! I did the hard parts perfectly -- the heel went smoothly, and let me tell you, the Kitchener stitch ain't that hard -- I just made the leg of the sock waaaaay too narrow, due to my insanely tight knitting (I was so nervous I had a death-grip on the DPNs for most of the process, and also: gauge swatch? what gauge swatch?) and then fucked up the decreases after the heel, as noted above.

After finishing the mutant sock, I decided to go for something I could knit on somewhat bigger needles, to compensate for my death-grip gauge, and also, not to waste any of my good sock yarn on my second attempt. (I graciously gave myself permission to indulge my second sock syndrome, due to the fact that the first sock was, basically, unwearable anyway.) The successful pair of socks were made from regular ol' Jaeger Matchmaker Merino 4-Ply on 3.25 mm DPNs, and even though they're just plain grey wool socks, they were so much fun to knit! The Jaeger is really soft, springy wool, very forgiving, and these will be seriously cosy winter socks. I don't know how durable they'll be, since they're a fairly loose gauge and 100% washable merino, with no added nylon or polyacryl, but you know, I just don't care. It only took me six days to knit them, at a couple of hours a day, max, and more to the point, I was working with a fibre I absolutely love, and knitting with it was pure joy. It also helps that MM is fairly inexpensive, readily available, and comes in very many colours; I could see these socks becoming a winter wardrobe staple around our house, since we definitely have plenty of draughts.

Learning to knit socks was great fun, and gave me a terrific sense of accomplishment and confidence in my own abilities. I would say that if I can knit socks, anybody can, and it would be true; not because I am a barely-competent knitter, but because I now believe I'm actually a pretty damn good knitter, and the odds are, if you want to knit socks, you probably are too. It's really not hard; it just requires patience, perserverance, and desire, all three of which you will need while you're wrestling with those first few rounds on the DPNs.

Hear me: Until last November, I had never in my life knitted anything more than a garter-stitch scarf. Since then, I have made three sweaters, two pairs of baby bootees, several hats, mittens, more complex scarves, taught myself to cable, to do short rows, learned to read and follow a pattern, how to correct (or cover up) my inevitable errors, how to use double-pointed needles, knit lace, and many other things I can't call to mind at the moment, but suffice it to say, there are lots of them. I love this. I'm good at this. I will never run out of new things to learn, but I know for sure I've learned the most important thing I need to know: it's just knitting. There was no need for me to be nervous and quite literally afraid to knit those socks with those scary DPNs, and all that tension and death-gripping and whatever. It's knitting. Who the hell cares is you screw it up? You can tear it out and start over, or decide it's just too much of a pain in the arse to bother, and do something else instead. I do this because it gives me pleasure to knit, and it makes me ridiculously happy to see somebody I love wrapped in a garment made by my own two hands.

Learning to knit socks also had two happy side-effects. The first is that I now love fine gauge knitting. I used to regard it as one of those things I'd never have the patience for, because it would take so long, but I was wrong, wrong, wrong. The smaller needles make me knit much faster because they're so much easier to handle, and I am looking forward to doing a lot more work with them. The second thing is that knitting those socks refreshed me, and I'm now back to working on the HCOH, with the plan of doing ten or fifteen rows a day until it's done, which should let me finish it within a couple of weeks. Right now I'm in that delicious phase where I get to plow through my patterns and books and peruse my stash while deciding on a new project. (My stash was hugely enhanced this past weekend at the John Lewis sale; pictures to follow.) I'm also going to cast on a new sock, because socks are the most fabulous on-the-go knitting project imaginable -- I took those socks with me everywhere last week, and all I had to do was toss them in a Ziploc bag and throw it in my purse.

If all this hasn't convinced you (I'm looking at YOU, cee-dub) to try socks, I have one more wonderful revelation with which to tempt you: Number of ends to weave in? Two. Beautiful.



Note sexy legs. Phwoaaaar!