So, I finally finished the first Stupid Sock, last night. I’ll be honest - at this point, I am knitting out of spite. This yarn refuses to bend to my will, I refuse to bend to it’s… yarnness. Only one will survive. And, at first glance, it appears to be me.

The sock is knit using Duet Sock Yarn, from a Swell Yarn Shop in the color Deep Blue Sea. It’s sport-weight, knit on size 4 needles at a gauge of 6 stitches to the inch, and, at this gauge, is giving a thick, squishy fabric. It’s a little stiff, but I hope that will soften a bit in the wash. Also, as you can see, it is very busy and in plain stockinette because the stupid yarn refuses to do anything else.

Unfortunately, when I should be working well into the second sock and looking forward to more pleasing projects ahead, I’m being vindictive. This yarn will not just be bent into a sock shape. Oh, no. It is going to be a damn fine sock, that fits correctly and doesn’t have stupid construction problems. In short, it will be perfect. Even if it kills me.

Which means I will likely have to frog half the sock.

There are two glaring problems, and they are annoying the hell out of me. The heel flap only covers about 2/3 of my heel and the toes? The toes are even worse. Normally, I’d just shrug and figure that no one would really notice. But right now? It’s all I can notice. And it will be corrected.

*pants*

Quick! Give me yarn!

That is a skein of Wollmeise, and I can already feel my blood pressure dropping again. For those that don’t know (for shame!), Wollmeise is an independently dyed yarn made in Germany. You can find it, for a few hours every now and again, over at The Loopy Ewe. Otherwise, you need to order it directly from Claudia’s website, in Germany. This particular skein is Wilder Mohn, and yes, it really is that bright. Further, the skein is 150 grams, and in impressive 574 yards. That’s an awful lot of yarn. I think this might be the yarn, the one destined to become Twisted Flower Socks, by Cookie A.

Just as soon as I finish the Stupid Socks. At least they fit the Black Beast of Aaaaarrrrrggghhh.

Sock! Arrrggghhh!

I am not talking about The Stupid Sock. Nor am I going to talk about the looming vet school application deadline. I have one week to make sure I have everything in order or “No school for you!”, and, frankly, it’s terrifying. So, instead, we’re going to focus on something completely unrelated: The Thing in the Corner.

This is the thing that lives in the corner of my living room. Does it look familiar to anyone?

How about it I drag it out, so you can get a closer look?

Yup, that’s a spinning wheel. An old, single treadle Ashford Traveler to be exact.

This, I think, would be a good time to distract you, momentarily, by introducing Abby. Abby is the bulldog myself and The Lovely Roommate are watching for the week.

Abby, incidentally, does not like the spinning wheel and, in fact, when it was dragged into the living room, Abby began growling menacingly from behind the coffee table, and barking in order to scare it off. It’s a shame that spinning wheels do not have legs, because Abby was quite terrifying and, had spinning wheels legs, I’m certain that it would have run for it’s life. Unfortunately, it did not run away, and, as such, has been placed back in it’s corner and is once again covered in junk.

Now who, you might ask, would keep such a versatile and wonderful object locked away in a corner, covered in a rarely used jacket? While I’m sure many of you are aghast at the blasphemy I have committed against the Fiber Gods, I would like to note a few things in my defense.

First, may I present exhibit A:

There’s no drive band. Now, when I bought this baby (for the paltry sum of $75 dollars), it had a bit of kite string on the wheel, pretending to be a drive band. I cocked my eyebrows at it, clucked disapprovingly, and cut the darn thing off. So, before I can turn out lovely, handmade yarn, I must replace the drive band. This can be done easily with a $30 repair kit. Yeah, I know. Not a great excuse. But! There’s more!

Exhibit B:

That’s a busted-up bobbin. Ok, yeah, there are two other bobbins that came with the wheel that are in perfect working order. But what if I want to make three-ply yarn? What if I want to make lots of yarn? Ok, fine, I admit I am just making excuses, but, for the sake my case, I will just note that a new bobbin will cost me $10.

Finally, I give you the most significant, Exhibit C:

That’s a broken treadle. Now, like the drive band, this is easily fixed. In fact, the little plastic thingymabob that makes the treadle go is actually included in the $30 dollar kit mentioned above. However, there’s a catch. I can’t spin on a single treadle wheel. Oh, I’ve tried. But the Fiber Gods have anointed me as a double treadler and all efforts to use just one foot result in the wheel going backwards and other badness. So, really, fixing the treadle is going to cost me about $125 dollars for a conversion kit. This makes the total cost of this wheel roughly $250.

So, here is my dilemma. In order to make this a really usable, happy, lovely wheel, it will cost me a total of $250 dollars, which is fully half of the wheel I desperately want - A Kromski Sonata. It folds, it does all kinds of weight, and it spins like a dream. I love them in a way that could be considered unbecoming. But they cost roughly $550. Which I do not have. However, if I could fix up the spinning wheel above for $30 dollars, leave it single treadle, and then sell it, I could probably get $250 dollars for it. Which is almost half of my dream wheel.
Decisions decisions. Anyway, back to the grind. Stupid sock and stupid applications are both calling, and I ought to at least answer one of them.

Daleks do not wear socks! Socks will be exterminated!

It’s taken me a few false starts to get things up and going. School’s been getting in the way, as school is wont to do. Biochemistry and organic chemistry are evil beasts, that care little for the knitterly ways of others. For shame!

However, not even the two chemical giants can stand in the way of progress. And with that, we get The Sheep Geek on it’s way. Be prepared for a little awkwardness while I’m still getting all of this sorted out.

***Cliche warning***

I knit because it’s magic. Seriously. What else can turn this:

Into this:

Those would be my latest accomplishment - a pair of Monkey Socks by Cookie. They’re made by All Things Heather, and are a lovely Merino/Tencel Blend. The color is called Stella and (shameless plug) you can buy her yarns, and many more, over at The Loopy Ewe.

Overall, I’m rather pleased with results. They’re very pretty, and the Monkey pattern highlights the hand-dyed color variations without getting lost in the business. Also, the yarn is painfully soft, and the tencel gives it a nice shine. That being said, I’m a little worried about this pair of socks. I knit them on 3mm needles, which is a bit larger than my usual needle (either 2.75 or 2.5) for fingering weight. I’m not sure why. I think I recall vaguely thinking that I liked the feel of the fabric better in the bigger gauge, but now that they’re done at 7 stitches to the inch, I’m worried about their durability. Especially since these are for a friend who, while excited to have socks, is slightly dubious about the merit of handknits for your feet. Just what I need - to give someone their first pair of hand knit socks and, because I’m a hard headed wench, have them wear out in a week. Maybe I’ll tell her that they’re designed to be “house socks”. CURSE YOU STUBBORNESS!

Ah well, they are pretty comfy on the feet. Even Cthulhu likes them!

Mrrrgh. Socks.