Reunited and it feels so good

Dang. Now I'm going to have that song in my head all day. I have realized over the years that there are people who are predisposed to having songs perpetually stuck in their heads, and those who don't. I fall in the former category and some days long to be in the latter. How does one manage with all that quiet empty space to rattle around in? I would find it luxurious. As it stands, things are packed in pretty tight in my brain. The song I sing in my head twines around grocery lists, things to do at work, appointments, book plots, and all sorts of flotsam and jetsam that are better left...erm, unaccounted for.

So I've taken a bit of a hiatus. To be fair, in the months I've been not writing here I did write a novel. Yup. I got the thunderbolt of inspiration at approximately 4:30 p.m. on Wednesday, March 31, 2010. I wrote the first draft in 12 weeks. I am currently working on my third and hope to be finito by then end of the year and be ready to start looking for agents. Because of that, all my creative energy was sapped by said novel. It wasn't until the last month or so that I began to pick up the needles again.

It all started when I realized Christmas might be a bit lean this year. We are going to Oregon for a wedding in December, and the expense might put a crimp in our usual budget. (Not that I really mind, one of my husband's best friends is getting married, and I can't think of two people for whom I would be more inclined to travel cross country in December.)

So Christmas. Lean on funds. Not a problem! Mom loooooves the dishcloths I've knitted her out of cotton and those would be a nice bulky stocking stuffer, right? Problem was, I only had slubs left of my balls of cotton. We were leaving for a long weekend in Orlando, so I grabbed a pair of needles and made KAK stop at my LYS to pick up a skein or two of cotton yarn. And I ended up knitting my Mom a beautiful lacy turquoise scarf to which I crystal beaded the ends. (Pictures to follow.)

I was back, baby.

The next thing I did was look through my stash and pick something I thought was pretty and decided to make a felted bag. I used leftover turquoise I used for my Kable needle case earlier this year and 2 skeins of Noro Kureyon I bought sometime this summer. Forget the colorway at the moment, but it was lovely dark blues and purples with a little green thrown in. Here is the finished product:

I am pleased with this one. I felted it in the washing machine by putting it in a pillowcase slipcover. Worked like a dream. The only thing I could find to block it was our old Revere soup kettle. That too, worked perfectly.

And now onto bigger and better things. Earlier this year when I began this blog, I mentioned wanting to make more complicated things than just endless scarves. I finally decided it was time. The stars were aligned, my horoscope was good, my biorhythms were optimal... it was time to knit socks.

I've been wanting to knit socks ever since I started reading Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's Yarn Harlot blog. Wherever she goes on her book tours, she brings a sock she is knitting. It gets its picture taken countless times with many people. Hundreds of people have brought their first socks to show her and she posts pictures of every one of them. When I was a misguided teen with terrible fashion sense, I felt it was super-cool to match my socks with my shirt. I had socks of every color, socks with fabric paint squiggles, tie-dyed socks, I even had a pair of pink socks with zippers on them. (It was the 80's. Sue me.) But when I started reading Stephanie's blog and I saw the gorgeous sock in drool-worthy colors, I knew this was something I wanted to do.

But socks seem daunting. Just uttering the phrase "turning the heel," made me break out in nervous sweat. Earlier this year I had bought a basic book on knitting socks, and last weekend I sat down to start. I decided to make my first sock on dpns (double-pointed needles) because it is the classic way to do things. I am nothing if not classicist first.

So just over a week ago I cast on. I had been intimidated by casting on dpns in the past. I'd tried it a couple of times using different suggestions, but always ended up with a knot of yarn in my hands and a knot of frustration in my head. This time I decided to do it a way that made sense to me. I cast on all 68 stitches onto one single dpn, and then knit them off with each needle in turn. Ha! Conquered you, dpns!

I've always been one who reads directions. From assembling furniture to baking, I've always been adept at deciphering schematics and could successfully put the cam locks in board E so I could bolt it to board C. So I shouldn't have been shocked when I was able to easily navigate the steps for knitting a sock. Even when sick in bed with a sinus infection and bronchitis I did it. The heel flap didn't get me. Picking up stitches was a breeze. And even though I think I mucked up the kitchener stitch on the toe a bit, I did it!

Behold, my first sock:

I used Patons Kroy Sock yarn. The colorway was a number I forget, but it has muddy greens, browns, and tans. And that is not my hairy leg, by the way. That belongs to my husband. Please disregard the rest of the mess, I was sick for a week and our house it not fit for other eyes.

It isn't a perfect sock. The ribs are a little uneven, and I decreased too fast in the gusset, but it is a whole sock, and pretty good for a first try. I hope its not too forward to say I want to show my sock to the Yarn Harlot. Hope she writes another book and goes on tour soon so I can do just that.

Second sock was cast on yesterday. It will probably be prettier than the first. I worry the first sock my be jealous of its better constructed twin, but it can take heart in knowing it was the first, and therefore, just a little more special to me than any subsequent more beautiful socks that may follow.