Last time it was the flashy, trashy Clappy that came on like the executive assisstant after a few bubblies at the office christmas bash*; this time I have been gently wooed and finally succumbed to the subtle and serene beauty of the humble sock.
I'm not going to claim it's been all sunsets and heavy breathing - no indeed, this relationship got off to a slow (dare I say rocky?) start - those first few rows on dpns made finding our rhythm together a little tricky.
I was slow to warm up to the round and round and round of rib, then stocking stitch. But I thought we were getting somewhere - like ready to start the heel.
Then, as is often the way, it took an outsider to observe that things may not all be fine and dandy. "Hmmm, its rather...big, dontcha think George?" observed Bells on the weekend. "But I'm using Happy Spider's basic pattern in the small size! How can anything possibly be wrong?" said I.
A count of stitches showed that I had 76 - fine, if I was doing the calf shaping as written into Ms Spider's pattern. Which decreases the number of stitches to closer to 60 when its time to start the heel. Der.
Luckily for me, Ms Spider's patterns come with a free 24-hour counselling hotline. Several angst-ridden emails and a calming phone call later, she had the sock and I back on speaking terms, and we felt like we'd really turned a corner in our relationship.
And here it is: one sock, stitch count waaaay out, but with a turned heel and partly decreased gusset:
Isn't it pretty? It might be a little wonky, but but I'm satisfied now that the sock and I are back on solid ground. I'm flying down the foot, and have discovered what everyone else already knows: the deep and abiding love that is sock knitting.
A comfortable, easy relationship; now we've got the maths sorted, certainly not high maintenance. No jealousy here - its happy to be picked up and put down at a moments notice, for a round or two while Pirate Jim eats breakfast or while I'm waiting for the pasta to boil (assuming the pirate isn't trying to play with the knife block or pretend the dog is the dishwasher and trying to find the place to put the detergent tablet).
It might be short grabs of togetherness, but its quality time. And that's what counts.
*disclosure: I have edited this analogy - my first attempt was a little unthinking and possibly hurtful to people I care about. Sorry if you read it and were offended - that wasn't my intention. Think first, post later, George!
