So, last Friday (I would have posted this yesterday but I chose to listen to A Prairie Home Companion and make wonderful pizzas instead, I’m sure you understand.) I pulled out an oh-so neglected pair of socks. I started these, well, I really don’t remember, but I do know that it was a while ago. Anyway, I knit one sock and let it languish for a really long time (like months) before starting the next one.
That sock too lingered for a while. I didn’t like the needles I was working with. They weren’t part of the Zimmermann project, so I felt guilty for working on them. It was ribbing, which I don’t mind on DPNs (oddly enough) but it still bothered me for some vague reason. I didn’t want to work on them. They weren’t for me. The usual stuff.
Needles: US 3’s
Pattern: That sock pattern I was born with embedded into my brain.
Time it took: Too long
These are going into the long-range planning box, which is slowly starting to get smaller and smaller range. (A lot more people will be given bought gifts, just sayin’.) It’s not like I can churn out Aran sweaters for the family in a few months. I’m starting to get a little worried about this holiday season. Can anybody say chunky yarn? I realize that that is sort of a cop-out, but I really don’t care. The people rarely wear thier stuff anyway. Aside from socks, which everybody loves, people around these here parts don’t really wear the knitted stuff. Despite the fact that Ohio usually has a bitterly cold winter. I, as I usually do, blame the midwest. (It’s just so easy, and usually true.) I knit my sister some Norwegian colorwork mittens one year. (Some long-time readers may recall my “Mitten Hell” posts) Well, last I knew, one of them was still being kicked around here somewhere. (Who loses a colorwork mitten? They were beautiful.)
The Fishtrap Aran is at center stage now, and is almost always by my side. It’s currently four and a half inches long. I must work on this more. I’ll go do that now. But tonight I have some potential job/education classes that I have to start looking into. I’m already starting to look in the mirror and say, “Hello, my name is Garret and I’ll be your tax handler.”