Or some variant on that sentiment. Yeah, I know they’re good for me, but ugh. Second worst thing ever. Wall Balls are the Worst. Ever.
In better news, I’m allowed and encouraged to put weight overhead again. And in not particularly coincidental news, my max clean and jerk has probably gone up, but I stopped at my old max. Cleans are feeling a lot better after 3 weeks of ground-knee-hip drills!
But you’re here for the fiber porn, aren’t you?
What does it take to get you to knit socks for someone? Do they have to be extra special to you? Or are socks sort of a background process, something that just happens?
I have this friend. Let’s call her the Owl- so if you know me, you now know exactly who I’m about to gripe about. And the Owl gets socks. In fact, she could probably ask for a scarf and get one. Probably. God, I hate scarves. She did get a sweater last year. Sweaters and socks have about the same number of stitches, anyway.
So Owl has a knack for picking the most beautiful, but irritating, patterns ever written. And then asking for them in excruciating yarns. So, Crown of Leaves in alpaca (which I’m allergic to). Winnow in grey. Which admittedly would have gone much better if my printer had printed the chart with the purl stitches showing. The filthy, filthy Deep V in even more alpaca. And this year, the request was “more grey socks.” Also, if you’re keeping track, that’s about how many years I’ve been knitting…
Enter Weeping Angel. Pattern was made for grey, amirite? And I love me some feather lace, ever since I decided that Simurgh was the only shawl for me (and then promptly reworked a scarf sized version in sock yarn for Owl).
It starts with these lovely wee featherlets on top of the sock, like the short feathers over the wing joint. That picture won’t unembiggen, I don’t know what its story is.
Yes, the ribbing is bothering my OCD, why do you ask? I trusted and should have just rewritten. If you’re going to knit this and you have any OCD tendencies at all, your ribbing should be K3, P1. Seriously. That will line up one purl stitch with the center of the feather, and one with the ditch between feathers, and everything will be lovely and sweet and aligned. K2P2 ribbing is BS and I knew it when I started knitting and I didn’t listen to me. And also I didn’t have a whole lot of time to finish? So thank Whoever that I discovered Waking the Dead this year. Yeah, I know, but I don’t have a TV, ok? Netflix, I will never again question the wisdom of your suggestions. Nine. Seasons. This should get me all the way through my Christmas knitting (and spinning). Probably. I did get through an entire season on these socks alone.
After the wee feathers, you get BIG feathers! Yay! In fact, you get so many big feathers that I was starting to worry about having enough yarn. (It wasn’t a problem. But I worried.)
And then, because I can’t possibly knit a pattern the way it’s written, I extended the feathers down the foot for two more repeats while working the nice top down in the round gusseted heel, which I only misread a little bit and caught my mistake well in time to ladder back and fix it (neener neener, stupid column of purl stitches).
That’s a lifeline up there on the toe. I knit the toe on the first sock three times. I really like an ergonomically shaped toe, and Owl’s feet are just a skosh smaller than mine, and I was worried it was too big, and then too small, and then Toe #3 seemed ok, but I wondered if the lace didn’t maybe come down too far… but holy crap I wanted to be done with that sock, so Sock #2 got a lifeline and then Toe #4, which was CLEARLY the correct solution, and so I had to rip back Sock #1 to knit Toe #5 and these things were just cursed, ok?
So when I make them again, I’m going to: fix the ribbing and knit the foot plain after the last iteration of feathers (I prefer my count on those, so they can keep going down the arch, yay).
In the meantime…
PS yes she likes them
PPS No I couldn’t talk about it before, ok? They were a birthday present.