Sunday, October 17, 2010

As promised: the work of an artist

I love to knit. It keeps me busy, it gives me something to do when I am trapped in line (or in class), and it's a relatively quick payoff when I need to produce something quickly that I know will fit.

Here is my personal hand-knit sock collection. Understand, these are not all of the socks I have knit. I have knit and given away at least 5 more pairs. These are the ones that I have kept.


I call these my "lucky socks." I never took a test without wearing a pair. See that pair on the far right? The lovely jagged orange ones?

They are my Disneyland socks. I first knit them in 2006 while on a trip to (you guessed it) Disneyland with my family. Anytime we had to spend time in line -if you can imagine- out came the socks. It attracted a fair amount of attention from fellow line hostages; they are lovely. They are almost my favorite pair. They fit beautifully, the color goes with nothing I own, but they are an exciting fire color.

They are also on sock hospice. See this?


They have a hole in the heel. Normally, as soon as a hole shows up in a pair of socks (or even when the heel threads thin noticably, indicating that a hole is imminent), the sock will wing its way to the trash.
Not this pair. These are my Disneyland socks. They have an emotional connection. They are my only pair of fire-colored socks. They fit as no other pair does. I will keep (and wear) these socks until my foot can pass through that hole. Then the sock with no hole will be preserved in its single state, a sweet momento of a family vacation.
I really can wear these socks. Here are two other pairs.
This is the Mermaid sock pattern (later, I'll edit this post to include publication information. Stay tuned!) These socks show the most common problem with varigated sock yarn: the regular production of socks that are fraternal twins, instead of identicle. It further assures that there is no other pair of socks in the world like these.


I don't remember what pattern this is (publication information forth coming), but I love the very subtle striping of this sock.
Tomorrow: sweaters! My battle with actual versus produced body proportions!


1 comment:

  1. I know you've been knitting socks as long as I've known you. You've even tried to show me how, but all the needles going everywhere and my distinct lack of knitting enthusiasm has dampened my sock knitting prowess. Alas, if only crochet were an acceptable sock production skill. But no: too bulky.

    Your socks are beautiful.

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