Thursday, November 10, 2005

They Don't Fit

I don't know about you, but when I knit things, I try them on. I don't try on baby things or socks for Brenda, but if there's a scant chance the thing might be for me, I try it on. I love trying on socks. But there are rules for trying on unfinished socks. First, the sock has to be on at least four dpns, or on two circular needles. Second, the heel has to be turned and you have to be knitting at least on the instep. Third, if I adore the yarn and am in love with the pattern, it has to fit.


I've said before that I have a "Cinderella Theory" about socks. You know... whoever the sock fits, that's who gets it. Ha ha... me so clever... until this so-called theory bit me in the butt.

I tried it on Tuesday night, which explains the lack of blogging yesterday. I've been so upset about this stinking sock that I couldn't think about it, let alone write about it. So I've decided, based on
TV philosophy, that if I make a list of all the things I've ever done wrong, and I fix all those things, that then and only then my sock will fit.

Okay, that's silly. The truth is that I have other projects I should be working on. Projects that have deadlines. Deadlines that are coming soon. We're still not even talking about Christmas yet. I shouldn't be working selfishly on a me-sock when I have other stuff that's more important. This is my penance. This is my due.

Thing is, I love this yarn. I love the color, I love the texture, I love the weight, I love the fabric it's making. I love this pattern. What do I do? Should I finish, make another, and *gasp* give them away? Should I frog the whole thing? (I choke back sobs everytime I picture ripping that sock apart...) Should I start over, altering the pattern, perhaps making it toe-up as Brenda suggested? Should I make something else? Gloves, perhaps? For now, it's in my work bag, in the little clear bag with the LLLiberty sock, and they're both taunting me now. It's not nice, people. I need your help.

Last night I didn't even knit one stitch. I worked on a sewing project instead.

In much much happier news, there are new pictures of my niece to be looked at. Here are a couple of her in the 3rd birthday sweater. It looks way better on her than it did on the hanger, as if we didn't know that would be the case.

Check out the My Little Pony in her hand. It came with a tea party set. How perfect is that?

Pattern is Knitty's Accordion, by Leigh Spencer.
Yarn is
KnitPicks Shine in Grass, Cream, and Blush. Machine washable.

And speaking of KnitPicks, I have a wild desire for this box to show up at my door. And for only $15.99, I have a crazy feeling it's going to happen soon. Mmm... laceweight.

Ooh! And this shawl pattern.

Umm... and this shawl pattern. Heh.

Deadlines? Did someone say something about deadlines?


Brenda said...

I'd say frog it. If you don't, you'll finish this sock and never knit the other. That could still happen, but you'd more inspired to knit the other sock if they fit you.

Maggie is precious, as always. And the sweater is perfect. I don't know how you do it.

knitsie said...

Ha ha ha ha!
I hope your knitting students don't read your blog. How hilarious is it that the sock knitting teacher knows so little about gauge and fitting a sock!!!
I bet your LYS loves you shopping at Knit Picks too!!! That has to be great for business!

Joy said...

Wow. Did Knitsie wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? That seems a bit harsh. Last time I checked, there are no rules for knitting. Check your gauge if you hate drama. Free spirits don't, and they just know that sometimes it results in this kind of tragic result.

I can't offer any advice since I don't even know what frogging is yet. But I'm guessing that you'll be happier if you cry now, rip it out, and re-knit in the right size. Cry now or cry later!

I LOVE the 3rd year sweater. The colors are awesome. And not colors I saw at your LYS... so what's a girl to do? You have to order!

Brenda said...

Agreed. Take a pill knitsie.

Frogging means ripping. Because you rip-it, rip-it, rip-it. Get it?

Knitters are so clever.