Sock

For two and a half hours. I sat on the couch. Trying to start a sock.

Learning to knit socks is one of my life challenges; how cool can that be? To make them to measurement for my goofy feet, to twist yarn into coherent pattern, economical, practical, happy sock! By eleven thirty at night, I was ready to throw the goddam couch through the window to open a large enough hole for the needles, yarn, instructions and forty five freaking how to books out into the atmosphere to rain down amidst the flakes and amaze the people still digging out their cars in the lots. Christmas time should not include the f-word.

I am not the most fiber friendly person, having totally, mistakenly skipped out on taking Home Ec in high school. I pay for it now in not knowing how to sew two pieces of material together and when I do, there is much buckling of seams, mismatches and car crashes. My knitting is not even or orderly, no way would I ever tackle a sweater. But a sock? A jolly sock?

Subsequently the beginning part of casting on in a Continental stitch is sloppy, the beautiful Japanese yarn looks like the cat barfed it back up, the loops are so uneven and loopy. To make a sock, you start with four double pointed needles and hope. Cast on, divide the stitches among three, then knit two purl two for about an inch and a half, forming a cuff.

Knitting is theraputic unless you are half off the usual dose of Prozac and teaching yourself something new so the brain grows more dendrites to ward off the Alzeheimer's. I can make scarves with one hand tied behind my back, little cell phone covers, cat toys, dishcloths, simple stuff. I own sock books, have read sock books, and personally, wear socks quite often. Wouldn't you like a pair of socks from Susan? But this, so far, is torture. Not like waterboarding torture, but like frustration why can't I get this children can knit socks torture.

So, to get my knitting skills back into gear, a short recipe for a neck warmer is selected instead. I may have to signup for sock lessons at the local. Today I shall twiddle with finish up gifts, made to be sent afterwards. I dipped an envelope in cold jasmine tea for color and smell, now drying on a towel rack. Kai is spinning on top of the china cupboard, and the car needs redigging out before the freezing rain and fifty mile an hour winds (woof) come this evening.

Maybe I'll also dig out my recorder, the playing of which is on par wtih my sock knitting skill. Oh the day, it's just beginning.