Recently DH and I decided to make our annual migration south to GA. As is often the case the decision to make the trip came upon us suddenly (meaning we had talked about it in the abstract for weeks, and then we were both out of work at the same time, and the opportunity to escape NY was upon us). In years passed, I have packed my spinning wheel, all the contents of the refridgerator, two dogs, all my knitting needles, all my WIP's, a couple pounds of fiber, three or four novels, and a 1/3 of my yarn stash.
This year, I settled on Gismo, my computer, three WIP's and one skein of sock yarn.
As we approached the Georgia State line my favorite WIP was almost complete.
They were the pair of socks I had started around Easter, that represented both the joy and despair I had felt in early spring in NYC. I had used a lovely pink colorway. The yarn was Araucania Ranco Multy. I had decided to use a grey for the cuff, the heel, and the toe, because "Hey that's spring in NYC." The color of spring is there, but there is just enough grey to remind you it's not summer yet.
For over a year, I had hemmed and hawed about what I should do with this glorious yarn. Funny thing about sock yarn, as much as we all love it, it so often can be debilitating. We often only possess 400 or so yards of it. 400 yards?
"Hmm? It's too much for hat, not enough for a sweater, hmm, I guess you could be a shawl? Socks, hmm I know your sock yarn, but REALLY am I suppose to put you on my feet?"
"Aren't you too lovely for that?"
I have often heard my other knitting sisters lament over this very subject, so I know it's a common problem, but I can't help but wonder how many of them lay in bed at night obsessing over what the yarn wants to be.
"Are all knitters certifable, or is it just me?"
In January, when my season of sorrow, had moved it's way into an entire year of sadness, I had firmly decided that all of my sock yarn would be knitted up into the beekeeper's quilt. I had reached for the Ranco Multy, more than a couple times during this period. It was pink, I was sad, but even in my sadness, my inner knitter reached out for bright colors.
By April, Gismo and I had gone on enough walks that my sadness had turned if not into joy, at least a desire to leave the apartment from time to time. He had reminded me that there was enough light and color on the gray days to move forward.
And I guess somewhere in there, I remembered that sock yarn might make up way too much of my stash to be entirely dedicated to the Beekeper's quilt.
"Hmm, the yarn is pretty. Is it too pretty for socks? Hell, at this point, I have used a lot of it to make puffs. Do I even want a blanket? I hate knitted blankets. Given how awful my night sweats are as of late, am I even going to use a knitted blanket?
Socks..........
SOCKS
SOCKS!!!!!!!
I LOVE KNITTING SOCKS!"
Socks don't care what you weigh. Socks don't care how much yarn you have in your stash. Socks don't have to be sexy. Socks can just be, well you know, socks. So I did what knitters before and after me will do, and have done, I just cast on.
And you know what happened? I became what I hadn't been in months. I was once again a content and happy knitter.
My cute little pink socks were probably over half way done when we made the decision to travel south. My experience with the socks had given me the courage to once again pick up my breezy cardigan. I had been cruising along on the cardigan for a couple weeks, and after months of sitting idle, I just finished the body and had started on the first sleeve when it made it's way into my travel bag.
The socks had even given me the confidence to cast on a lace shawl. Honestly, I can't remember the last time I didn't have a lace shawl on the needles, but somewhere during the season of sorrow/ year of sadness, I had lost the courage to knit lace. I'm not sure why. I had knit lace throughout my treatment of cancer. I knit lace both times we had moved cross country. I even knit lace at my Godfather's death bed, but somehow when Frankie got sick, knitting lace no longer felt like an option.
Sometimes, the only option is to go back to the beginning. After looking at a slew of lace knitting patterns, I decided to cast on a lace pattern from my knitting bucket list. I remember the first time I saw the Adamas shawl. I was in Macon, and one of my knitting pals and I had both decided to cast on another one Miriam Felton's patterns the Icarus shawl. The Icarus was managable. The Adamas was pretty, but "Wow, knitting an entire lace shawl!?" Did anyone really do that?
I had knit the flower basket shawl, but that was in sports weight yarn and it was a shawlette. I had knit the Flower Meadows shawl in lace weight yarn, but it was all in garter stitch. I remember looking at the chart and feeling nothing short of overwhelmed. That was 2007, flash foward to 2012. I looked at the chart, and went, "Hmm, it's a 12 row repeat. Knitting only on one side, no nupps, no beading. Simple increasing and decreaseing. It's really only one chart until the border. Shouldn't I try something more complicated? Hmm, maybe not."
It's time to cast on. And just like that, the curse had lifted and I was knitting lace again.
Okay, but in the spirit of full disclosure, it wasn't like I traveled down south and all of a sudden I became a lace knitting, cardigan knitting fool. I finished the sleeve, I finished a couple repeats of the shawl, but the project that got finished first was of course, the "almost summer" socks.
In fact, they got finished within hours of us arriving down here. I had planned for it. I had printed a copy of another sock pattern. The Blackrose socks. They featured an eight row lace repeat panel in the front of the socks. Not quite as mindless as the stockinette socks, but not quite as challenging as the lace shawl.
I cast on, and worked about 10 rows.
"Yikes. OMG, the yarn is Saguine Gryphon skinny bugga. What the hell is wrong with me?! My friend Laura had waited in line at Rhinebeck over an hour for this stuff. The yarn is waayyyyyyy tooooooooo SEXY for my feet. It's black and magenta. I am crazy to think that this yarn wants to be socks! What the hell is wrong with me! Crap, I didn't pack spare needles or spare yarn. I have some of that gray left over. I could put my shawl on scrap yarn, and use those needles. I could buy needles, I could buy more sock yarn. God, I have way too much sock yarn at home, and buying needles is sooooo out of the question. Maybe, I should surf ravelry and see what else this yarn wants to be?"
"Hmm, but who the hell says sock yarn can't be used for socks? Why can't super sexy sock yarn be used for super sexy socks? I have pretty feet, maybe I deserve pretty socks? I like knitting socks, is there something wrong with that? At the end of the day, am I really worried that I wasted a perfectly good skein of sock yarn on socks? "
"God, no!"
Not only is there another perfectly good skein of sock yarn at the LYS, there is also another pretty good skein of sock yarn sitting in my stash. I have often said, that I don't knit for the outcome, for the potential of what the yarn can be.
"What if when I wear these socks, I go ice skating at Rockfellar Center slip on the ice, break my leg, and Dr. McSteamy has to cut of my skate and set my leg?
What if when I wear these socks I am completely naked except for my socks and the firefighter that rescues me notices my sexy socks and then notices my eyes?
What if I am at a local spin in, and Judith McKenzie shows up to make a guest appearance. Wouldn't I want to be sporting a pair of lace knit socks?
What if one of my ex-boyfriend from my punk rock days calls me out of the blue and once to get together? At least if I have my Blackrose socks, I will have something to wear under my combat boots."
And of course there is something completely decadent about taking such a high end sock yarn, and allowing myself the luxury to just knit socks.
