Twelve!

Good Lord, are we still doing this?

I guess we are. The count now stands at:

Twelve socks.
Five pairs plus two as-yet-unmated socks.
Two socks OTN.
Something like 20 days remaining.

The above pair is knit in Socks That Rock mediumweight, colorway Lagoon, on size 1.5 needles, at a gauge of around 7.5 stitches to the inch. This is bigger than my usual sock gauge, but the finished fabric is denser because of the heavier yarn. I like it a lot. The private side of the sock feels very smooth, almost as smooth as the knit side. I may try for a similar density in future socks. I'm betting the smoother purl side will make for a more comfortable sock, not that the purl bumps generally bother me. But I do sometimes feel them and would prefer not to.

I think the short break to knit the hatpotis and the gauge swatch for Fulmar restored me some. Plus I've been working on my secret knitting--shhh! Don't tell! It's a secret!

In any event, two good sockish things happened today. First, I stopped despising the sight of them. Whew! I hate it when I fall out of love with my knitting. Good thing it never lasts.

Second, I had one of those Doh! moments. Remember the Gypsy Girl sock with the wild zig zagging around the leg? Remember how much trouble I had with the (sigh) pooling? I have this odd barberpole curse that turns all barberpole-striping yarns into something only Piet Mondrian's mother could love. And I'm definitely not Mondrian's mother.

So, after much fussing and tinking and frogging, I finally got a stitch count that allowed the sock to look more like a nicely patterned sock, and less like abstract-geometric art. I happily knit the first sock, then reached for the second skein to knit the second sock.

And, of course, ran into problems that made all the issues with the first sock seem like child's play. I won't tell you how many times I have cast on and ripped out this sock. I will confess to a number in double digits, and that's it. I have tried everything -- varying the stitch count and the size of the needles, pulling from the other end of the skein, everything. And no matter what, the blue and the grey and the black Refused To Swirl.

Obstinate yarn! This is a big part of the reason I've been in an anti-sock mood lately.

Then, this morning, it sort of hit me. I still have close to half a ball left from the first skein. Doh! I'll knit the leg with this, and as far into the gusset as I can get, and then I'll switch to the naughty misbehaving ball. That part goes in the shoe, so who will notice or care?

Well, I will. But I'm just cranky that way.

I still love this yarn. I will be happy to knit with it again. The real lesson in all of this -- a lesson I should have learned before now -- is that barberpoles and I don't play nice together.


One other note. The Shedir Lady passed away earlier today. Thanks to all of you who were so kind and supportive during her final illness. I'm sad that she's gone, but also sort of guiltily relieved. She was suffering. But she's not suffering anymore.