sockpal... sigh.

Folks, it's been such a crazy ride with this sockpal thing that I almost, ALMOST began this entry with the word "y'all." Seriously.

When you last heard sockpal news, I was still trying to get the first sock off the ground. Inexplicable issues with the short-row socktoe were preventing me from making any progress whatsoever beyond the discovery of new combinations of curse words. After pouring my heart out into a frustrated blogpost, I was able to nail the toe without a single hitch, and went merrily on my way. I was knitting so quickly and gleefully that I didn't even take a picture to mark my progress. Mere days later (mind you, my knitting time during the week is pretty much limited to my lunch hours) I had turned the heel and was a few inches up the leg of the sock when I finally gave in to the little voice that had been nagging me all along. This sock, pretty as it was, would probably not fit.

I am just not good at making things for other people! Gauge and measurements are fine things, but finished knitted garments are changeable, reckless items that will defy your expectations (for better or worse) in the end. I have my sockpal's measurements, along with a warning to account for negative ease to ensure a snug fit (good advice, although I'm usually one to do so anyway). However, her foot is wider than mine but shorter, which means I can't "fake" try-on the sock and pretend to know how it will fit her. Alas! So I decided not to go any further with the Falling Leaves pattern since it was knitting up too large and I didn't want to take the Koigu down to a size 0. That would just produce stiff cardboardy socks that NO ONE wants.

So... scrap that idea! On to the next! And after a frantic search, I landed on Pomatomus. Okay, it was the OTHER sock pattern that I happened to have printed out. Also, I wanted something with texture but not a pattern that would become muddled in the variegation of the Koigu. (And therein lies the problem: I chose a variegated yarn knowing full well my take-it-to-a-therapist issues with handpaints.) Poma is perfect: twisted rib stitches create a strong vertical line and lots of light-n-shadow interplay, so texture will probably win out over color... right?



At this point, I figured that if I was going to get my knickers in a twist about knitting a pair of "really nice" socks for my sockpal, then I may as well take the extra time to do a tubular cast-on. It was time wasted, though, because I decided after a few inches of sock that my size 1s were just a bit too wee to produce the fabric I was hoping for. (So I stopped to take a picture, because at this point I was becoming enormously frustrated with the whole escapade, and was delighted only by the fact that my shoes and pedicure just happened to match the sock yarn in question. I can't help but think that this was NOT an unconcious choice... the nail polish at least.) So I made the SECOND tubular cast-on of the day, on size 2s that I had to scramble around to locate. And was happily knitting away...

...and realized that I had, in my haste, decided to not read the pattern but merely to skim it and "get the gist," which is not a strategy I recommend. I ended up starting this sock AGAIN because I could not get the chart to work with what I had already knitted. NOT because the pattern is wrong, but because I was being impatient. And the price for my impatience? Having to refuckingknit!! So take it from me: reading the pattern is a great idea, even if you think you "don't have time."

About halfway through the sock I figured I was running out of yarn, sort of. I weighed out what I had knit vs. what was left in the ball and started to panic. I only had two skeins for the pair! What to do, what to do... so I decided to veer off-pattern again and make the leg shorter, not thinking (again) that straying from the pattern would end up throwing things out of whack later on. Which it DID. I skipped half a pattern repeat, turned my heel, and then tried to resume the leg pattern for the gussett: no dice. No way to fake this one. And after all this trouble, I couldn't send off a pair of "almost but not quite" socks, if I could help it.

At this point, I swear to you, I cried. I actually threw down the needles and yarn, stared off into the misty trees bursting with their hopeful young leaves, and I cried like a jerk. It seemed like nothing I did was working, and that the whole plan was doomed from the start, and that maybe I should take up playing the guitar after all. I mean, there are plenty of mediocre guitar players out there!

Time was running out, but I chose to take a few days off from my personal sock-hell, and worked on a few other projects in my life. Namely, retail therapy. A very few of my readers may be aware that I am going through a different hell, a pretty parallel torture running in tandem with my sock ordeal. And where there's boy trouble, there's shopping.



What could make a girl feel better than the purchase of a handmade item over the internets? First off, you support an artiste who isn't a sell-out jerk, and you get something cool out of it. No one's going to show up at the party with one just like yours because it was on sale at Target. Enter splityarn. I don't know how I ended up at this shop, but I'm glad I did! I did not hesitate to purchase this awesome little "wristlet" purse, because the colors of the fabric were the exact same as my New Personal Vision for My Bathroom Decor. (Never mind the fact that I have since abandoned that vision.) The article itself is solidly, cleverly made, and is just all fired up to go out on the town. So, people, let's go out!! (If only it were the type of bag to carry, say, a small sock project. Then I would have used it already. At this point I think I need to have the sockpal socks near me at all times for those tiny pockets of spare knitting time.)



Equally alluring are the pizza-slice stitch markers, handsculpted by a local chica at mack (which is why they were delivered about five minutes after I ordered them) (slight exaggeration). This artiste has a smorgasbord of miniature-food items for sale, and I was initially taken by the breakfast foods and the school lunch sets. Why I decided on the pizza, I don't know. I was probably hungry for pizza, specifically, at the time. In fact, I think I want a pizza now. Hmmm... Anyway. My generous, loving readers are welcome to buy me miniature food items for any (or no) occasion. I will accept them with joy. Another thing that puzzles me: why did I buy stitch markers? I must confess, I don't really use them that often. So even though this purchase is steeped in mystery, I regret it not. Just seeing them sitting there on my desk is enough to make me smile. Retail therapy: 2. Boy trouble: 0.

Back to the socks. I decided to rip back and go with the pattern, and try my luck with running out of yarn. And by "try my luck" I mean I would find the yarn label and contact the shop to buy more. And I called Asheville's Yarn Paradise this afternoon (bless the yarn shops open on Sunday!) and helpful Eunice informed me that there was none left of that color and another shipment was not expected soon, but maybe I could use a coordinating color for the toe? I think she might have the answer. I did notice last week that there was a solid skein of the brownish tone sitting at my LYS. I hope they have it when I swing by tomorrow.

Hmm... maybe I won't need it?



Ta-da! Not quite done, but it's looking like I have just enough to finish the toe. I am going to trust that the other skein will not be freakishly short (which they sometimes are) but may stop by LYS for the savior-skein just in case. [By the way, in the background you can see the pretty green trees I referred to earlier. I took the picture with my foot hanging out the front door in order to get some good light, but didn't want to exit the apartment entirely because 1. I'd already gotten locked out of the house today and 2. my skeezy neighbors were chillin' on their adjoining porch and I try not to allow them into my field of vision.]

This may be the longest post in the history of Pinkydom! Wow! Thanks for bearing with me.