Anyway, I find I have a deep commitment to staying warm. Normally, I am very rarely cold and am frequently underdressed for the weather up here, but this year, for whatever reason, I am feeling it.
So, I've been wearing a lot of layers and a lot of wool, specifically, wool socks. This is somewhat problematic because, although I have probably knitted a hundred socks, I only have two pairs that are still mine. I love hand-knitted socks and therefore, I want to give them away to people, especially people who have never experienced them. (It's my own little plot to take over the world, because, y'all, once you've worn hand-knitted socks, you know that all other socks are pale imitations of True Sock Love. AND, given that each pair of socks has (on average) about 34,000 stitches in it, you're going to be hard pressed to find someone to knit more than one of them FOR you. So, now you know: I am converting the world to sock knitters, one person at a time. Share it with Wiki-leaks if you'd like--I'll admit to my nefarious plan freely.) Anyway, I'm down to my Edward Socks and my Lin Socks and yesterday, I discovered the unthinkable.
I'm pretty sure this is due to washing my socks in the washer and not hand-washing them. First bigger-than-it-looks truth of the day: You Have to Take Care of the Things You Love by Treating Them With a Little Extra Care-- even if that means hand-washing them. Even when you hate to hand-wash. It's like exercise, really. You just have to invest the time, even if you don't enjoy it all that much, in order to keep your body strong and supple. Because if you DON'T and then you discover (I am speaking purely hypothetically here) a raving passion for Yoga, you're going to have to freaking KILL yourself getting back into shape so that you can do your practice without A) toppling over at regular intervals and B) making noises that make everyone else in the room uncomfortable. (Unless you're in a room full of walruses giving birth, in which case you will fit right in.) (Hypothetically.)
But I digress.
As things turned out, about an hour after I discovered the hole in my Lin Sock, (I've never gotten a hole in one of my hand-knitted socks before. It was oddly sickening.) I finished a pair of socks that I had started and finished FOR MYSELF. They fit me perfectly. They are soft and warm and I will be hand washing them with gratitude (dammit.)
Click to embiggen to see the gorgeous Monet-like colors.
Basic sock (2X2 ribbing and then just stockinette foot.) using Lorna's Laces Shepherd Sock in Watercolor)
AND, as it turns out, the night before, I had been shopping with my daughter Ana (12.75) for new jeans (Since she outgrows hers at a rate of one per day, it seems like. She is one long tall drink of water.) and had a...well...little accident with my credit card after seeing THESE.
I KNOW, right? Shiny red clogs just MADE for showing off a new pair of (well cared for) hand-knitted socks!
If YOUR higher power does not speak to you through the opportunity to buy fun red shoes at a significant discount just in time to show off your new, perfectly-custom-fitted hand-knitted socks, I do not want to hear about it.
(Seriously --those shoes jumped off of the shelf and onto my feet. They're that Born brand, where the "o" has that diagonal line through it (Børn), which normally means an addition of at least $40 to the price tag? I got them for $35 at TJ Maxx. Red. Børn. $35. Clearly, a sign from the heavens.)
Oh, just hush.
At any rate, I am off to my yoga class, dressed in several million layers (it's getting to where I feel like one of those nesting dolls every time I get ready to go somewhere) and my new socks and my new shoes. And TOMORROW, I will tell you about other life/joy lessons I am learning right now and about this amazing woman named Brené Brown.