A Sock Confession
I did not make the Sockapaloooza deadline. I wasn't anywhere close to making it. Between my wrists hurting and my chronic case of procrastinationitis, there was no hope for me. My sockpal did not suffer from these same shortcomings and I recieved my socks in the mail days after the deadline.
That yellow package was the wet cat tail in the middle of the night that makes you shoot out of bed to make you check to make sure the toilet seat is down. Or more simply put it was a clear motivation for me to get my socks finished. I decided that I was not allowed to see my socks until I had finished my required pair.
I forgot to tell my wonderful sock pal of my plan so I'm sorry Dierdre for any stress I may have caused you by leaving this key component out of my plan.
My plan hit a bit of an annoyance because Jay couldn't deal with waiting. The annoyance went something like this:
"Come on open your socks."
"No, I have to finish my socks."
"Well, I'm going to open your socks."
(Jay leaves room with package. Comes back.)
"Wow, your socks are cool. Do you want to know about them?"
"No, I don't. . . . Are they cooler than the ones I'm making?"
"I don't know they might be. You should look and see."
"Please go away."
I finished up my pair this Sunday with minimal damage to my wrists, thanks in part to regular doses of aspirin.
Sunday evening I was able to reopen my socks and this is what I found:
Jay was right. They are pretty awesome and they match most of my favorite fall clothes.
Zissou is quite taken with them as well. He couldn't keep himself from biting, nuzzling, and pawing at my feet.
These are the socks that I made and sent to Texas, after trying at least three different patterns and as many yarns. Once I correctly finished my first heel on the second try and completed my happy heel dance, knitting these socks was a blast. Hopefully, I can make some for myself after giving my hands a few days rest.
And a close-up of my stitching.
Thus ends the saga of the socks.