Hell hath frozen over

I finally decided to do the virtuous thing. I decided it would be way less wasteful to swatch than it would be to pick a random number of stitches, cross my fingers that the sock would fit, spend a lot of time pretending everything was fine until the first try-on revealed the (obvious) fact that it was entirely too small. So I swatched AND I measured my leg.

The Knit Picks pre-dyed gave me 8.25 stitches/inch on size 2s after blocking, and my none-too-large leg is 11 inches around at mid-calf.

But I don't know how many stitches I should cast on as a result. It turns out knowing my gauge in advance is not helpful to me in the slightest because I don’t know how much “give” to expect from sock yarn.

I see a lot of sock patterns that start with 64 stitches. It can’t possibly be that I need to cast on 80+ stitches, can it? My legs are on the skinny side and unless every other sock knitter in the world is a willowy-legged midget, I imagine I need to factor in some stretch.

Other sock knitters, please advise?

I didn't get the memo

Today is officially green argyle sweater day in my office. I’ve spotted three already, including a particularly festive kelly green, navy blue and orange sweater where each diamond was practically the size of a toaster.

Is argyle cool again? Why don’t people tell me these things? And how do you knit argyle?

I did snap out of this intarsia daze when I realized that "checking out the knitwear" can look suspiciously like "staring at your coworker’s chest."

Knitters would understand. Hell, they’d take off the damn sweater mid-meeting and insist that you touch it and see how the intarsia looked from the wrong side. Non-knitting dude wearing mass-produced sweater? Much less likely to buy ‘Really, I wasn’t checking you out, I was just wondering how I’d knit the little Xs in your argyle.’

This knitwear entrancement is a sure sign that I haven’t been knitting enough the past few days. I’m doing some secret gift knitting that came up three stitches short at the end of the last row and has been sent to the corner - where the bad knitting goes - for a time-out.

I’ve also got a sinking feeling that I'm going to run out of yarn midway through the second Sunshine Yarns Jaywalker, given my microscopic yardage-sucking gauge and largish feet. I've thought of revising the foot length downward by a few inches and giving them to a tiny-footed friend, but then I remember that I love the sock more than she would and would give it a much better home. Plus, I’m a selfish, selfish knitter.

I even squeezed in a visit to the Koolaid section of Shaw’s earlier in the week, where I was disappointed to see they are now marketing a clear Koolaid that has ALL THE CRAPPY FLAVOR but NONE OF THE SOCK-DYEING COLOR. Bastards.

My final paper and presentation for the literacy class are both due next Tuesday, so it's probably just as well that there are no obsession-worthy projects afoot. I just hope my coworkers don't mind me looking at their knitwear a little dreamily until then.

This one goes to 'e'

Previous posts notwithstanding, I do realize that dyeing and dying are not at all the same thing. That missing 'e' makes all the difference. Sneaky 'e'.

Realizing I had no idea how to spell dyeing was just the excuse I needed to spend some quality time with the Oxford English Dictionary. Or, as those of us in the know call it, the OED.

Besides providing more information than you could ever want about a word, including it's definitive etymology and amusing quotations, the OED is in the midst of a massive revision, and they post new words periodically to edify and entertain dorks like me. I enjoy this so much that having access to the OED Online might be my very favorite part of library school. Now that I think about it, buying the complete 20 volume set would be a significantly cheaper thrill than library school...

In any case, the latest round of updates included ghetto fabulous and kidney stone. Not to mention a new definition for the word woody (yes, that kind of woody), my new favorite word, scrote .

Plus man bag, which I assumed was, uh, lexically similar to scrote . Sadly, I believe man bag is actually a slightly manlier version of man purse. Because, while they may have nine different definitions of the word 'poop', the people working at the OED probably aren't ten-year-old boys at heart.

Unlike some librarians-in-training I could name.

Tempting

Deborah commented earlier that the Knit Picks dye-your-own sock yarn was soft and delicious, and damn was she right. And how do I know?

Yep, the Knit Picks box arrived yesterday. And the clouds parted. And a golden beam of celestial light shone down to caress the pale, silky smooth fibers of the sock yarn ever so gently. And a choir of angels descended to sing the yarn's praises as one Boston area librarian-in-training embarked on her yarn-dying journey.



Or not. Unfortunately, in real life I have a research paper to write for class, so I really can't afford to spend a whole afternoon dying yarn. So what to do?

I don't really have the strength of will to completely ignore the box full of lovely yarn just sitting there in my living room, so I've decided permissible interim activities include:

- buying a large crappy pot or microwave-safe bowl
- stocking up on saran wrap
- Koolaid shopping
- stroking super-soft super-cheap yarn every time I walk past it
- forever renouncing Lorna's Laces Shepherd sock (see previous item)
- swatching (I may also have purchased some pre-dyed yarn, just for, uh, comparison's sake)

I'm having a thought

Which can be dangerous. I'm pretty sure I've reached that stage of knitting knowledgefullness where I am well-equipped to get myself into trouble but not quite equipped enough to readily get myself out of trouble again.

Still, undaunted by common sense - or by the need for some serious Christmas gift knitting - I've been thinking about my sock problem. Namely, that I can't seem to find the perfect combination of calf decreases and heel/arch width to make the sock stay up on my skinny ankles and still fit well on the strangely chubby parts of my feet. The obvious answer is ribbing. But oh I do hate knitting ribbing.

Then I remembered how gleefully I knit the faux-spiral rib handwarmers from Last-Minute Knitted Gifts, which are just 2 x 2 ribbing scooched over by one stitch every four rows. The scooch makes all the difference. It's motivating. Just four rows to the next scooch! Must knit four more rows!

So couldn't I knit a sock in the same rib pattern? It will be super-stretchy, not boring to knit, and as long as I keep everything at multiples of four, I should even be able to continue a version of the spiral rib on the instep, no?

Gratitude and thanks

This year I am grateful that my friends, family and loved ones are happy and healthy.

I am grateful for a wonderful boyfriend, good friends and for this craft that constantly challenges, surprises and amazes me.



I'm also thankful to have found such a smart, funny, vibrant knitting community this year.

And I'm ever so thankful to have just eaten an absolutely shocking amount of food, and in excellent company.

Happy Thanksgiving to all - cynical me will return tomorrow.

Plus, I'm always meeting new people

This is how easy it is to get me really excited (no, not that way) - I unloaded my knitting from my purse before going out to lunch today. When I got back, I walked into my cubicle, saw a pile of knitting on my chair and actually thought "Whee, someone left a yarn present!" Not remembering that the someone was me and the "yarn present" was MY OWN KNITTING.

I'm trying to see this as proof of a deep and abiding love for my sock - I even like it when I think it's someone else's knitting.

Or, you know, early onset dementia, whatever.