Socks of the evening, beautiful socks

I’m cold and, frankly, miserable. Sad and difficult stuff. Stuff that pokes at my “yeah, yeah, all in the past, gotta be strong, worse things happen at sea” veneer and makes me howl as said veneer collapses after a brief but bitter struggle. Makes me want to go to bed and sleep for weeks, months, years.

So I’m compromising. Ok, I say, let’s howl. It’s not a weak and snivelling concession of victory to the forces of darkness and nihilism, I say. Really, it isn’t. (Gotta work harder on this one.) Instead of going to bed I’ll curl up on the sofa under a blanket (with the hot(waterbottle)dog of course). And instead of sticking fingers in a wound the nature and extent of which I don’t really understand I’ll do knitting stuff. Because that makes me happy. Even when howling. And it’s national knitting week.

So here are my beautiful malabrigo socks, just finished. So warm, so soft, so gorgeous in every respect. I’m wriggling my toes in them as I type.

beautiful socks

FirstBoy insists it’s his turn next (true, both SecondBoy and I now have two pairs of socks each, he only has one). And these are what he wants. I’ve adapted the chart a bit for a smaller size.

I’m glad, of course, that the boys love their socks. I can understand it, having some of my own. So much warmer and more comfortable than shop-bought. But with great love comes… great holes. And darning. In fact this one had to have a whole new bit of heel knitted in to the gaping void which had been worn through the bottom.


I have to confess to a certain amount of impatience with children’s socks, though. Because really what I want to do is make more for ME. The autumn Knitty is out and there are some storming patterns – Garden Gate, Interlocking Leaves and Hourglass for a start. Not to mention the other hourglass sock project, Los Pequeñeos de Arena over at the AntiCraft.

And there’s also the blanket, hovering in the background, awaiting further strips.


So much knitting, so little time.

7 Replies to “Socks of the evening, beautiful socks”

  1. I get my Cosmic Permission Slip to howl from terriers I have known.
    Like Joop: he would relish nothing more than to tear the squirrels in his backyard to bits, if only he could catch them; but when he’s frightened he does not hesitate to run howling to quiver between his person’s legs, and when he’s sad and dejected he gives himself to it utterly.
    But as a knitter, he’s worthless.

  2. Sometimes howling is all there is to do. I hope the sun’s a bit brighter this morning.

    If I came across a pair of socks the hue and pattern of the re-heeled model, I would buy every pair in the shop!

  3. You curl up, you howl, you make beautiful things. Somehow the socks and the blanket hold the hope on the dark days… Sending hugs.

  4. How wonderful you look when you knit.. Now, if only I could send you some sun your way. 🙂

    I need to meet you and howl in person!

  5. Not related to this post, particularly, I’m just writing to say I’m all excited that I just *now* stumbled across the information that “twisted rib” is a knitting term!
    I’d thought it was, you know, theological. Ha!

    Are you working on your army of knitted daleks yet??? : )

  6. Yes, twisted rib is indeed a knitting term. And yes, the Eden/knitting/bitter-old-bag double (or treble) entendre was deliberate.

    I’ve got so much knitting on the go that daleks are rather low down on the list of priorities, sadly. But I was struck by what I thought was an utterly awesome and novel thought – wouldn’t Dr Who lego be brilliant? Only I see that it’s not so novel after all.

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