Sometimes I just can't help it.
I'm a one-pair-of-socks-at-a-time kind of girl, in both the wearing and the knitting departments. I like to have a sweater going (because that's pretty much what I like to knit, except when I make skirts, but that was just that one time. So far) as well as a sock project, which lives in my car and is there for me when I'm waiting for stuff (the dentist, the gynaecologist, long traffic lights in summer when I'm not wearing gloves and it's not too dark in the STATIONARY car to knit, and so on) or when I don't plan quite well enough at the tail end of a project. For the next project. So that I can start it as soon as I'm done with whatever the current project is.
One pair of socks at a time, that's what I do.
And then, shortly before Thanksgiving, I accidentally discovered a Very Dangerous Place and was extremely weak in the vicinity of the sock yarn pages.
Frankly, it's all Amy's fault.
About a year ago she was aghast that I had no artisan sock yarn, which she promptly rectified, and I made those green socks about forty-nine times. Turns out that merino sock yarn really does feel yummier on the feet than regular 25/75 nylon/wool sock yarn (though it's pillyer), and even way better than the 30/30/40 or 25/25/50 or whatever the percentages are when there's cotton or chitin or something else with the wool and nylon, which is my excuse for my spendthrift ways.
Yumminess.
Anyway, there I am at knitting Wednesday, one sock down and the toe of the next looking respectable, loving the yarn (Trekking XXL, which is really ingenious: four plies, each changing colour independently, leading to non-repeating tweedy stripes. Brilliant. I should spin sweater yarn like that) and loving the sock and looking forward to finishing the second one so that I can wear them, knowing there'll be none of the anticlimax that comes of finishing wool garments in summer, knowing that I could wear them as soon as I finish them, and what do I do?
Even though it's put out by one of the big yarn companies, it looks and feels like an artisan yarn, but that's not the point. I mean, it's loveliness is the point, and the fact that I just happened to have an extra set of sock needles with me (they had stitches on them, no rows, just stitches) did me in completely.
I bought the yarn, put down my toe-in-progress and started these socks, which are Just Lovely So Far.
And I know my feet will be happy.
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