No post yesterday, because I sat down on the sofa last night and whimpered. I was tired. I knit about four rows. But that wussy knitter is gone now. I knit a lot today, listening to an audio reading of _Pride and Prejudice_ from “Librivox.”:http://librivox.org/
For those of you counting, there are nine days to go. To be precise, as of this writing there are 9 days, 11 hours, 54 minutes, and 10 seconds to go. Nine seconds. Eight. Seven…
The completed sock (part one).
Pretty special, isn’t it?
Okay, so it looks like a newborn baby. Not in the aww-isn’t-she-beautiful kind of way, but rather, in the are-all-newborns-wrinkled-and-funky-looking-with- odd-proportions-and-bits-poking-out kind of way. I’m honest. I can take it.
Besides, I’ve “read”:http://www.morehousefarm.com/Knitting/Tips/LaceYarn/ that “[m]ost lace knitting… looks limp and unattractive before blocking. To show off the pattern clearly, the garment needs to be stretched out and blocked properly.” (This is called research. It’s very important to know what you are getting into when knitting stuff that has a tendency to curl up and go wonky _as a result of you doing exactly what you are supposed to do._ Chris and I were watching the special features disc for _Revenge of the Sith_ and I kept thinking, Gee, my sock looks like “Tion Medon.”:http://members.shaw.ca/david.p.z.888/star_wars/tion_medon.html , because it was long and wrinkly and awkward. Even though Tion Medon was graceful. Which my sock is not. Yet.)
The more brave among you may suggest that I block the sock to remove the wrinkles. Block? Are you people mad? Did you read the first paragraph? I have nine days. Nine. Okay, okay, so I finished this first one and it’s been… um… seven days. But! But! I swear I think this was due at least in part to the fact that I was sick, and Chris is nice and took Ben to the park a lot last weekend and I sat on the sofa and hacked and phlegmed and knit. I don’t have another weekend like that to look forward to.
You know what I mean.
I just, for a brief moment, in all the excitement about writing this, forgot where the sock (part one) _was._ But I found it.
And so, the blocking. Blocking is crazy talk right now. Why? Several well-thought-out reasons.
1. When the new sock is -born- finished I want it to look just like the old sock, so that I know that I’ve either screwed up on both, or they’re both just puckered and wonky in the same way.
2. Blocking at this point is too much investment. I feel I have maintained my detached emotional state in this process. Blocking means that the wadded handful of wool in The Spit’s box becomes a sock, and therefore a member of the family, with all the privileges that this entails. Specifically, if it’s under a certain size, I have to wash it. Or, let Hershey play with it.
3. I don’t have blockers.
4. I could put damp wrinkly socks on my own feet as blockers, but I don’t want damp wrinkly socks on my feet. It’s cold, and Hershey would eat my feet.
4. I could make blockers… I have all that cardboard in my box stash…
The sharp-eyed among you may notice that I have _already_ cast on for the sock (part two). No getting past you. Here’s a close-up of the cast-on, since you missed it before and it’s positively gorgeous, glowing with goldy health:
The non-knitters among you will note that it is a stick, with bumps on. But you can still note the glowing goldy health part. It may help to note that this, too, is destined to become (in 9 days, 11 hours, 18 minutes, and 10 seconds… nine… eight…seven) another Tion Medon. I hope.
Because if it doesn’t? Ben will have one funky sock puppet.