chrysanthemum

Showing my stubborn side

I was shocked, shocked, I tell you, to find this giant hole in the heel of one of my very favorite socks a few weeks ago. I loved these socks so much I knit them twice. As in, I knit them, then ripped them out because I realized that I'd knit them wrong, and then knit them up again immediately. The right way. These socks are only two years old. I don't wear them that often, and it's not like I'm wearing them over my spurs or something. It must have been some kind of freak laundry accident. Anyway, it's not like I could just throw them away, so I set them aside for a little while and happily, happily, the folks at Craftzine decided that March is for mending. Also happily, they're walking the walk with tutorials for sock darning. Wow.

This seems like the sort of thing that would make old ladies laugh out loud. Old ladies who knit too many socks in their youth and spent boring hours with a basket of socks to darn. But frankly, I don't know any old ladies like that, and I spent too much time knitting these socks to throw them out over one giant, gaping hole in the heel. For me, the half hour I spent darning this sock was actually fun. I might not like to have to do a whole basketful, but one sock, bring it on.

You can see that I did not have any more of the Fleece Artist sunflower yellow yarn I made these socks with. I recently used up my leftovers from this pair on a tiny mitten (check back in, like, December for more details on this project), so I was forced to darn with a complementary yarn instead. I think this is a bit of Koigu, leftover from this pair, and you know, I kind of like it. Next time, though, I'll try to remember to turn the sock inside out before I do the darning magic. Oops. 

Sorry, about the non-working link to the sock-darning tutorial. It's better now, I think.

Not my flavor

You like ice cream, right? You know how you get that ice cream craving and only ice cream will do? Not cookies or brownies or candy or froyo (ugh!). Ice cream. And you know how when that craving strikes, there's rarely just the right ice cream on hand. Whatever's in the freezer is too old or too plain or too hopped up with novelty ingredients, and all you want is something fresh and cold and purely delicious. Yeah, I get that. I don't know what your flavor is. I often don't know what my own flavor is, but I sure as hell know what my flavor isn't when I'm staring at a freezer full of wrong ice creams.

It's true that I just made a batch of custard for burnt caramel ice cream (that flavor has been on my mind for two solid weeks, I swear), but the reason I bring this whole tragic issue up is because I really want to talk about this yarn and these socks.

This yarn is luscious: MadelineTosh Glazed Sock in Waterlily. It's beautiful, really, but it's so not my flavor. I'm knitting it anyway because I own it. It's the only sock yarn I've got at the moment, and it's amazingly soft and a pleasure to work with, but this is the fifth sock pattern I've started, and even though there are many things I like about it, I spend most of my time knitting it wondering if I should I rip it and make some more Monkeys or maybe another pair of Leyburns. I wonder if I should give them to someone else, and then whom I could possibly give them to that doesn't read my blog and won't think I'm just desperate to be rid of them. But they really are nice socks--the pattern is Aquaphobia--and it's got a great ripply stitch texture that, overlaid with the colorway, sends me off on a Georges Seurat meets Claude Monet at the lily pond in Giverny tangent. Just because the variegation isn't my thing doesn't mean it isn't pretty. Right? Maybe I'll fall in love with them when they're all done. Maybe?

Fanciest sock yarn ever

At least, the fanciest sock yarn that I've knit so far. It's a mix of merino and cashmere, handpainted by Perchance to Knit for The Loopy Ewe. I bought this color, Glory of the Snow (which seems like kind of an overwrought name), several months ago and just thought about knitting it every so often. I'm not a big stasher, so it was really nice to have some special yarn just waiting in the wings.

I knew it was going to make big flashy rings of color, so I opted for a simple sock pattern: Minty's Anastasia. (When you say that in your head, do you say ANN-a-STAY-zha or AH-na-STAH-see-uh or something different? I say AH-na-STAH-see-uh, but I think I might be affected.) Anyway, simple as it is, I felt like I was screwing it up every time I got to the point where the yarnovers needed to wrap around to the next needle, and oh my, I shouldn't even mention how I started the stitch pattern for the second sock in the completely wrong place, and the socks don't technically match each other. It doesn't matter. Maybe. They're still cool. Or warm, rather, but in cool colors. The cashmere makes them really, really soft. They feel insanely good on the feet. I tried them on extensively before washing them and mailing them off to a special someone. Mmm, cashmere...

One thing about that cashmere: I'm not certain if it's the fiber content, or just that yarn is somewhat loosely plied, but I found the yarn less than thrilling to work with. It's pretty splitty, and it doesn't have the sproing that I'm used to with merino fibers. I like a lot of bounce in my sock yarn, and this yarn doesn't have it. It is really soft though, so the tradeoff seems worth it. They're special socks.

And yes, look, I really did do a short-row heel, and it's really not pool-ly around the instep. I also did a really stretchy bind-off that I discovered in this post of Grumperina's--genius. It's very simple to do and very stretchy--just right for the top of a sock.  

I have to say, I'm currently knitting two sweaters, a scarf and a shawl (which is a positively unprecedented number of projects for me to have on the needles at one time), and honestly, I think socks are my favorite kind of project of all. They're so damn portable and useful and beautiful and fun. I'm never going to give up the other stuff, but socks... ah, so satisfying!

Monkey mind

Two nights ago at dinner, Michael was telling us about his day and how he'd had lunch with our friend Lu, and they had talked about Ben and about Lyra and about Mommy. Ben piped up, "Oh, you mean about how's she's so bossy?" Huh? I'll admit to being a bit taken aback by that comment. I have thought of little else since then.

I had already been thinking about possibly needing to change my attitude just a smidge with regard to these kids of mine. We were in Disney World over the Halloween weekend and, wow, that trip really wiped me out. I'm not naming names, but there were several overtired, overstimulated, overreacting people in my family. Anyway, I had been thinking that there's got to be a better way to maintain both general happiness and a modicum of respectability in public places.

Earlier in the week, I'd read one of Molly's posts over at A Foothill Home Companion, saying that she had adopted a Mae West philosophy of parenting: When they're good, they're good, and when they're bad, they're even better. I was initially a bit confused by that, but it made me think about the kind of behavior that drives me nuts.

Take, for example, standing in the 20-minute line for It's a Small World, surrounded by crowds of people with largely cooperative children. It's not quiet, obviously, but no one is shrieking. Except for Lyra, who doesn't want to ride in a little boat on the water, who doesn't want to wait in the line for another 10 minutes, who does not even believe for one single second that this ride is populated by small dolls dancing to a brain-twisting little tune, and that it's happy, happy, happy. She cannot see the ride--except for the people getting into the dreaded boats and floating away--and there are sure to be scary things inside. So shrieking seems to be in order. I am mortified by shrieking. I am already tired of holding 35 wriggly pounds of her in the line, and I do not at all like the furious kick and struggle of a shrieking 3-year-old in my arms.

But a week later, it's easy to see that she was acting that way because 1. she's not old enough to wait in line yet, even for 20 minutes, which ain't bad in Disney World on Halloween, and 2. she was scared. She wasn't conveying these facts to me in my preferred manner, but hey, that's good information to have. It's good for me to know how she reacts--and how I react to her reaction--in situations where she has no knowledge or control over what's going to happen next. I think I'll be trying to avoid those situations, at least on Disney-esque scale, for a while. We maybe need to work up to that. So she was "bad," and I was cranky, but it was a better chance for me to learn something than if she'd been "good." There may be something to this idea, Molly, though I'm not sure it's quite what Mae West had in mind.

Anyhow, back to the part where I'm so bossy. Man, that kind of cheeses me off. I probably am bossy. I spend a lot of time telling the young people who live here to put their shoes on, pack their backpacks, wash their hands, wipe their behinds, take their dishes to the kitchen, stop taunting each other, put the dirty clothes in the hamper, no, IN the hamper, ALL the dirty clothes, ESPECIALLY the underwear. OK, I definitely am bossy. I don't enjoy bossing, though. It is largely useless work. The bossed ones ignore me as long as they can, and then they get huffy when I start to repeat myself, and I get even huffier.

Today, it's Saturday, and I'm really trying to not boss anybody around. I'm trying to back off on the go, go, go. We had a pleasant morning, and I'm looking forward to the evening. I'm thinking that it will be harder than this during the morning rush on a weekday. But instead of saying "Put your shoes on. We're going to be late," trying "It's time for shoes. We're leaving in two minutes," will be of value. Especially if I don't say it every 30 seconds. Maybe I need to trust them a little more. Maybe backing off on the constant verbal prodding, and just moving ahead with the next thing on the agenda--walking out the door--will prompt them to pay attention to the less directive statement. I don't know, maybe not...but it's worth a shot, I guess. And if it makes my sensitive boy will feel less bossed around, that'll be a good thing.
       ___________________________________________

These Monkey socks have precious little to do with anything, but I've been wearing them a lot in the last five weeks or so. I love them with my red shoes. There is some unfortunate pooling around the instep, as I knew there would be, and it's inspired me to get with the program on the short row heels, especially for these stripy kinds of yarn. I've got a stripy pair half-finished right now, in fact, with no unpleasant pooling. Pictures to come.

The hardest thing about knitting

is loving yarns like this:

Shibui Sock in Roppongi, a narcotic neon mix of hot pink, fuchsia, yellow, orange, red and crimson. It's heady stuff, but truly one of my favorite color mixes ever. I've been coveting this yarn for more than a year, and I finally bought some this summer. Two weeks ago I was finally ready to knit it, and wow, can you ever make some ugly socks with this stuff. I cast on half a dozen different patterns, I even tried a garter stitch scarf, but everything was just repugnant. There was pooling. There were utterly lost stitch patterns. There were very nearly tears and rending of garments. I was so sad that I finally gave up on my avowed plan never to knit Monkeys. Despite my wholehearted admiration for Cookie A., there are just so darn many Monkeys that I had decided I wasn't going to add any more to the total. It's far and away the most popular sock on Ravelry--6782 projects, in 3234 queues. Doesn't that seem like a lot?

Shows what I know. This yarn looks amazing knit up in the Monkey pattern. A-maz-ing. It reminds me of those old-fashioned striped ribbon candies. Except in a neon narcotic flavor. Yum. 

Once upon a time

I didn't have any blue socks to speak of. But then I made this pair:

And now I've started this pair:

And look what showed up in my mailbox today:

The pair in progress is Duet Sock Yarns Middy in Pebble Cove, and it's making me want to drink lattés all day long. I love how this yarn comes packaged with a big painted hank and small solid one for the heels and toes. I'm also liking how the color's playing out. The lengths of color aren't long enough for a whole stripe around in one shade, and even though I'm pretty sure all the color sections are about the same length, there's no pooling. Whoever paints this yarn is obviously much better at math than I am.

The big hank at the bottom is Dream in Color Smooshy in Caribbean. Yowza. A couple of weeks ago, on the very same day that I won Sasha's bacon candy bar and gorgeous spinning project, I won a gift certificate at Michelle's blog, Textile Junkie. Seriously, I never win anything, and then I won two things in one day. I should have bought a lottery ticket too, but I didn't. (Obviously. I would have told you way before now if I had won the lottery.) Anyway the gift certificate was for The Loopy Ewe, and criminy, what a store! They have loads of sock yarn and lace yarn and beautiful rovings. I had just bought the Duet yarn from them a few weeks before (and, um, a couple of other sock yarns too, because frankly, I felt I needed a sock yarn stash), but I was happy--very happy--to buy another pair's worth of hand-dyed merino yumminess. And now look, I'm going to have three pairs of blue socks. Hmm, I'm going to have to choose another color to start amassing...

Oh, and speaking of color, I'm having a damn hard time getting decent pictures of my new little red sweater. My camera just can't handle the red. Is it the camera or is it me? Is there some special setting I'm supposed to pick for shooting red? I'm afraid I'm kind of a camera dunce, and actual technological explanations go right over my head; I just want an easy secret in plain English. Is that possible? Anyone? Anyone?

P.S. Michelle, you totally rock. That was an amazingly happy little prize. Thank you so, so much!

For me, after all

I really was thinking that these would make a great gift, but I've decided that they have to be mine. For purely practical reasons, you understand. For one thing, I don't have any other blue socks, unless you count a pair of rather ill-fitting Jaywalkers in a sort of scratchy yarn. And I don't. But the bigger issue is fit--I couldn't get the pattern, as written, to fit me, so I didn't feel comfortable knitting it for someone else. What if it didn't fit them either? Could there be a more disappointing gift than a pair of handknit socks you can't wear? That's like a negative gift. I don't want that on my conscience.

The pattern is written from the toe up, and the toe and instep require a smallish number of stitches. That seemed to be working fine, since the top of my foot is fairly uniform. But then you have to make some stitches at the sides in order to accommodate the arch of the foot before you work the heel. I followed the instructions, but it just wasn't going to be enough to comfortably cover my (possibly over-lumpen) foot. I could have ripped back a ways and worked a longer gusset, but that seemed kind of dire, so I scrapped my short-row heel (and just when I'd finally figured out how to keep it from being hole-y) and tried a Widdershins-style toe-up-heel-flap heel. This is kind of a genius bit of engineering. Alas, it wasn't doing the trick for my (almost certainly over-lumpen) foot. I really did not like the idea of trying yet another heel variation (nevermind that I couldn't even think of one) that might not work, so I ripped the whole sock (technically it wasn't even half a sock at that point). I started over and knit it from the top down. I know there are lots of good reasons to knit from the toe up, one of them being that the magic cast-on is just so damn good, but I am rarely worried about running out of yarn, and I'm truly not crazy about short-row heels, plus I hate the sewn bind-off around the leg, so I guess I'm just going to keep knitting my socks mostly from the top down.

There's really nothing to modifying this pattern, of course. It looks exactly the same knit in either direction. I cast on 72, did some single ribbing, and started in on the stitch pattern. Eleven repeats, then a standard slip-stitch heel flap. I toyed with the idea of an eye-of-partridge heel--it seemed like it would be pretty in combination with the lattice pattern--but decided that I wanted the drawn-in slip-stitch ribbing since I was working the heel over a whopping 36 stitches. I worked a square heel, instead of a round one, for the same reason: to narrow the fit. Then I worked the gusset until I had 66 stitches total (37 on top and 29 on the bottom), because that seemed reasonably snug and comfortable.

Then when I got to toe and was all ready to kitchener, I did a quick internet scrounge to see if there were any good tips for eliminating the little corners I always get up there. Um, yeah, why have I never looked for this before? The first tip there under Kitchener Points--that works. Look how pretty that toe is!

Let us know pause for a reflective interlude:

I was working on the toe this morning in a random moment of free time before I took the kids to school, and Lyra was playing with the little ball of yarn that was left, quizzing me about whether I was really going to keep this sock or if I was going to give it away. Then she looked up at me quizzically and asked if I was going to knit another sock. I said yes, and she showed me the ball and said, "I don't know if you're going to have enough yarn for another sock." I told her I had another ball in my basket, and she said "Is it the same color?" It's good to know she's looking out for me. Also, it's very exciting, I think, that A.) she thinks I need more yarn, and B.) she recognizes the importance of matching your dye lots. She's got the soul of a knitter, yes? How long before I can actually teach her to knit, do you think?

So, OK, I've got another sock to knit, but I also got something good in the mail yesterday, and I think I just might be able to handle having two projects going at once. Stay tuned.

New sock on the needles

It's a Leyburn sock in a pretty Shibui Sock color--Breeze, I think. This pattern has been on my to-knit list for a long time, but sort of languishing on the list. The pattern photos are kind of small and the socks are solid dark blue--the detail is really hard to see. Then I saw this pair, and they shot straight to the top of the list.

I'm really happy with this yarn: it's ultrasoft and squishy, the colors are so creamy, and it's not pooling! So, to sum up: cool pattern, great yarns, socks to love. Alas, you know I'm going to give them away..

Quick, before November starts!

I know I'm a little late to the party, but I did think about Socktoberfest this month. I knit some socks too. Just one pair. These are the Kaibashira socks from MagKnits, a totally underknitted pattern so far as I can tell. Too bad, since I think the pattern is really lovely. I especially like the scalloped top.

I made these a little shorter than I typically do, because I was working with a short skein of Madeline Tosh Somewhat Solid Sock yarn (color: Vermilion), and I was foolishly afraid that I would run out. Of course, I have tons of yarn left over. Oh well, I'm thinking of pooling a bunch of leftover solid-ish colors to make some striped socks for Lyra. Her candy socks from last winter are getting to be too small, and she always wants to wear them, so I guess she must need another pair. My leftover range is red, green, blue, yellow, and this lovely dark rosy pink. Those'll be fun stripes for a wee one, and they'll go equally well (or badly) with everything. I'll definitely be working them toe-up, two at a time. No more of this fear of running out for me...

Back to the yarn: it's wonderful stuff. Soft and squishy with none of that strange stripiness I found with the Shibui Sock I used for my sock pal. And my god, look at all the gorgeous colors she's got! Alabaster, kale, ginger, lichen, milk... I want more! I want them all!