Socks

I seem to have become, without intent or awareness, an obsessive sock-knitter within a dangerously short amount of time. This past winter, I wore only hand-knit socks. Mind you, I have had only six pair of hand-knit socks in my sock drawer at any one time most of the winter. The youngest pair is pictured to the right, and they took nearly a year to knit. My habit before their completion was to have a small knitting project close-to-hand at all times whether I knit regularly on them or not, and that usually meant a sock on double-pointed needles somewhere in whatever bag I was carrying. Mostly, however, I kept myself busy knitting larger items.

Well. For 141 days (thanks to Ravelry.com for helping me track such things) I carried around those socks-in-progress until the 8th of October 2012. Then, once they were done, I rested from socks for all of 5 days before beginning and completing another pair (in 60 days), then another (101 days), then another (42 days), and another (21), another (43), another (15) and another (16), sometimes pausing for a day or two or more before beginning another pair, sometimes beginning a new pair before the former was quite complete, but most often casting on for a new pair with the same needles off which the former pair was just cast not unlike a chain-smoker lighting her next cigarette off the cigarette she’s almost-but-not-quite done dragging on. As a result, my sock supply is more than doubled and I am more than amply prepared for what might be, if my sock supply is any indication, the most wicked winter ever to grace Rochester, NY in a millennium.

Here’s the scary part. I am nearly halfway done with another pair that I began the day I finished the last pair pictured here (5 August) and while we were traveling in Maine I added four more skeins of sock yarn to a sock yarn stash I had only barely begun to dent. Somebody stop me!

Or don’t bother. There might be absolutely nothing wrong with me. Indeed, I might just be one of the few people you count worth knowing come the snowpocalypse. And, unlike the zombie apocalypse? The snowpocalypse has a snowball’s chance of comin’!

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About pattiblaine

Raised under the name of Snyder in the upstate NY town of Vestal, I've worked as a typesetter, a fast food salad bar tender, an art reviewer, a waitress, a part-time nanny, and a very-bad-with-phones temp. Once upon a time I was all-but-thesis toward a Masters in Art History. Now I'm just a mom with a lot of fiber squirreled away throughout the house. We call it insulation. In 2013 I completed a life-long learning program at Colgate Rochester Crozer Divinity School, and am a postulant toward the diaconate in the Episcopal Diocese of Rochester, NY. In addition to coordinating volunteers for the soup kitchen, I volunteer as a tutor at a deeply impoverished city elementary school, and am a docent at the Memorial Art Gallery.
This entry was posted in Connections, Extracurricular, On the fly (aka from a mobile device) and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Socks

  1. beautiful socks. Is it possible to have too many pairs? I have taken a break from knitting. 2 pairs of socks waiting to be finished will be, i think, 71 and 72 in my collection. I now have a enough socks to do a full laundry load.(30 or so pairs). and truthfully, it really doesn’t get that cold in NYC. but hand knit wool socks are a special luxury… and things of beauty.

  2. D'Alta says:

    I spent the last couple of years obsessed with crocheting hats–I do not knit. Hats take such a short time to crochet, an evening while distracted by TV, about an hour while riding in the car. I give them away and often dash off a matching or pseudo matching scarf–bits and pieces of similar yarns worked into each. Sometimes my hats match a couple or more scarves or vice versa. I find that I need to be working on a quick project and a longer term project at the same time. Going between them prevents boredom or feeds a need for a different color, yarn, or stitch. One can have too many hats and scarves. Socks?? Never!

  3. Pingback: We interrupt this programme … | Every Fibre of My Being

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