Sigh...

I've been knitting for multiple years. I promise I have. I've made successful changes to patterns in terms of fitting and stuff. So how did it go so wrong?

My second pair of socks started out well. I picked a simple toe-up pattern, as a foil to my top-down first pair. I went with "Socks on a Plane" by Laura Linneman. I liked the little bit of cabling to keep me interested and I liked the idea of being able to try it on for fit as I went along.

Let's examine it, shall we?

Pros
1. Toe-up. You can indeed try it on as you go, and that's helpful
2. I cast on the second sock immediately upon finishing the first sock.
3. I also carefully examined the first sock and wrote down after how many cables I started the heel gusset, when I started adding some increases in the leg for more room, and when to start the cuff so I could replicate the first as closely as possible.

Cons
First mistake: Yarn. I went with a variegated yarn given to me by my mother-in-law. I've lost the ball band, but it's mostly wool and in a great colorway.



The greens and shades of blue is great. But can you see the cable in this? I can't. It just muddles the self-striping nature of the yarn.

Mistake No. 2: Estimation. I was supposed to start increasing for the heel gusset about an inch or so shorter than I wanted the foot to be. Well, whatever I was thinking when I did that on my first sock, I was off. That's pretty typical when I estimate. The foot of Sock #1 is too short for my foot.

Mistake No. 3: Doubting the pattern. I didn't understand the heel shaping instructions for Sock #1 and I interpreted it rather liberally and creatively. And completely incorrectly, clearly.

It's so ugly.

And proportionally, so off. 

Good God, it's so bad. But I didn't know what it should look like till later, so I just left it and continued blithely on.

Mistake No. 4. I then changed my approach with Sock #2's heel and trusted the written instructions. I was happy to find out my second interpretation worked, though I wasn't thrilled at first about how it looked. 

It grew on me though.

I was happy it worked, and so continued on. I held up the 2 socks to compare them. The foot of Sock #2 was longer than Sock #1, which was good. But after completing the heel of Sock #2 and a few rounds of knitting for the leg, I was decidedly closer to the leg length of Sock #1 than I should have been. I ditched most of my comparison notes and skipped to the cuff.

Mistake No.5: I cast off too tightly. I knit tight. I know this. I have a bad habit of casting off tightly. I know this. Yet I hardly ever correct for this. On this instance, I'll blame worrying about the outcome of this pair of socks that I've spent a lot of time on for my inattention. 

Mistake No. 6: Toes. I somehow managed to delude myself that Kitchener stitch could be done on two cast on edges. After extensive Internet research I have found that there is a way to do it, but when I was anxiously trying to finish these I didn't realize this. Trying to pick up stitches along the cast on edge failed due to anxiety, so I just threaded a tapestry needle and whip stitched the toes closed on both. I have also since learned that "your preferred cast-on method for toe-up socks (ex: Judy's Magic Cast On)" did not mean "just any old cast on you like", but that there are actual techniques meant for this kind of project that would not result in open toes. *face palm. 

Result

Well, they're done, anyway.

Dear God.

The upshot of all of this is that I basically managed to knit two different socks from the exact same pattern. Sock #1 is too small and so is tight and pulls disgracefully around my foot, leaving large gaps to let the wind in and distorting the design further. Sock #2 fits more nicely, especially around the heel, but I had to work very hard to get the cuff over my ankle and instep, as well as almost needing to grab scissors to get the thing off again. Sigh...

TO BE VERY CLEAR:

I like this pattern. I like the light, simple cabling and the toe-up method. I will use this pattern again. I just will learn from my mistakes and do better next time (hopefully).

These particular socks are going (sadly) in the garbage bin. Or I suppose I should frog the yarn and not be wasteful. But I'm so unhappy at these socks that I don't really want to.

The Metallic Scent of Failure

Complete and utter failure.
As I did hedge in my first post, this project was ambitious but ultimately rubbish.
I blame the human urge to reproduce. If I had not been sidetracked by all of my friends deciding to have babies and require handknit baby blankets, I might have had a fighting chance.
But not likely. My ability to juggle all the adult stuff I'm told I need to do, such as forty hours of work a week, laundry, housekeeping, shopping for groceries, hanging out with friends and family, spending time with Tall Hubby, etc, is appalling. Thank God I'm an introvert. Anyway, my ability to take on an enormous and ambitious knitting project on top of regular daily life was pretty much doomed from the start. Seven months in and I am an inch and finishing up away from a complete set of socks. Oy.
So unless someone knows of 11 sock patterns that I can make on 3 hours per week in 5 months, I'm calling this project failed.
I am completely okay with this. I knew from the start I was flying close to the sun. And now that I am officially failing this, I can move on with my life and blithely keep working on the green leafy baby blanket for Dave and Chelsea.
So anyway, let this blog stand as a testament to high ambitions never to be reached. It may become an extension of my Ravelry page, but I have no idea yet. I intend to keep knitting socks, just not on any timetable. And so it will become a lifetime in handknit socks. Fitting punishment, I think.

Well Begun is Half Done...

Update: I have finished a whole sock. I am the proud maker of a sock. It even mostly fits.
Update part 2: I have turned the heel on the second sock. No second sock syndrome here, mostly! Finish the foot, toe shaping, Kitchener stitch to close, weave in ends, okay that's a few more steps than I thought still to accomplish. But hey, I am well past halfway with my first ever pair of socks. That's worthy of celebration in my books!

Turning 90 Degrees

So I've always been told, or just assumed, that turning the heel was the hardest part of the sock. You know, big fancy techniques like gussets and picking up stitches. Yeah right. Nothing to it! 

Okay, having done some quick Internet research, a gusset heel is a knit heel flap, short rows(which are in fact scary in theory), picking up stitches to attach the heel flap to the instep, and decreases to make all that work. If that's what just happened in my knitting, no big deal. Piece o' cake. 

See?

Heel flap (in ribbing for enhanced fit)

Short row heel (not as scary as I thought)

Doesn't the variegation pattern look nice on the heel?

It looks more heel-like now!

Picked-up stitches along the heel flap. 

I think it's shaping up nicely. Pun intended. 

It's looking really nice, I think. 

Now it's just a short jaunt down the foot(no joke, I have really small feet, as evidenced by the clerk who tried to sell me kids shoes yesterday), and toe shaping. Then on to Sock #2. Onwards!

An Inauspicious Beginning

My good friend Fish's first baby the Tobster was born on December 29 and went home from the NICU on January 10th. He's whole and reasonably healthy, for being a few weeks early and existing for most of his life thus far as a high-risk pregnancy. His honorary aunt/cousin/whatever has finally finished his blanket: it's blocked and drying on my living room floor.

I know it's an unusual color for a baby; I did not pick it! 

I think it's beautiful, and I was half-tempted to go on eBay and find Tobster a different red knit baby blanket so I could keep this one. But that would be weird... 

In the meantime, I started my very first pair of socks. Ever. 

Well, not ever. A long time ago I started a sock on my trusty No. 10 bamboo double-points in some hideous cotton variegated yarn. No gauge, no plan, just on they went. Needless to say, they did not end well and were promptly frogged (or pulled apart, for non-knitter types. But if you're not a knitter...why are you reading this oddly-specific blog?) 

This year, determined to succeed, I made a plan...which promptly fell apart. 

As stated in the opening post, I intended to start the year with the "Basic Socks" pattern from this charming edition: 

My go-to for all knitterly questions...and then I check YouTube.

However, when I went back to look at the specifics in preparation of starting this project, there was a problem. Besides the lack of gauge information, it asks for #7 double pointed needles. I have a set...or I used to. Somewhere along the many moves in the last few years, I seem to have lost 2 out of 5, leaving me with a fairly useless set of 3, so they have become my cabling needles. Anyway, I digress.

I was rather unwilling to buy a new set of #7's for some reason, possibly because I'm cheap, more likely because I was in a hurry to start the first pair of socks because of the delay. 

So I flaked on the trusty Knitting for Dummies and went to Ravelry.

Pair Number 1: Simple Socks on Five Needles

by Cheryl Toy

Found: Ravelry (http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/simple-socks-on-five-needles)

Needles: #3 double pointed

Yarn: blue-green-gray variegated fingering/sock weight that I randomly bought at the Michigan Fiber Festival in Allegan years ago because I liked the coloring and had the absurd idea that I might want to knit socks sometime soon. Ha.

Construction Notes: These are super-simple, cuff-down construction with what I can only guess is a typical heel flap set-up and Kitchener toe. These things still mean very little to me, as opposed to any other kind of heel or toe set-up, so gaining experience no matter what. 

The ribbing makes the color variation look a little odd, but I'm okay with that. 

I'm about 15 rows into the cuff as of today. Circular knitting is not new nor scary to my knitting experience, so nothing earth-shattering in that department, and despite the smaller gauge than I am used to, I expect them to knit up quickly. As you'd expect from a truly 'simple' sock. 

Casting Off...errr, On.

Hooray, baby blanket is finally finished. Mostly. Still needs to be washed and blocked, but basically...

So anyway. 21 days later and with half an hour till bedtime, I have cast on my first sock. Whoo!

Learning by Inundation

I've been knitting since high school when my grandmother put needles and yarn in my hands. A narrow 'doll scarf' became a real scarf, became a hat, became mittens, became a sweater, However, I've never attempted socks, that pinnacle of knitting achievement. Gussets, heel flaps, Kitchener stitch, top down, toe up, afterthought heels, what do all these mean? I don't know, but I intend to find out.

I'm a believer learning to do something by jumping in and doing it, multiple times if necessary. Having decided that I want to learn to make socks, I figured I might as well plan to make a lot of them to get the swing of it. Also knowing my tendency for procrastination, I needed to set some parameters. Hence:

THE CHALLENGE: TO KNIT 12 PAIRS OF SOCKS IN 12 MONTHS

Sound ambitious? I wouldn't know, I've never tried to make socks before and so have no idea how long they take to make. Also, being a fan of the British TV show Top Gear, I am well aware of and resigned to the idea of being "ambitious, but rubbish". I have a list of patterns I want to try, as well as a few (hopefully) quick-and-dirty sock-like projects to complete if I get bored or have extra time. I'm getting a bit delusional with that last, aren't I?

Anyway, the epic year of sock knitting will start with "Basic Socks" from the book Knitting for Dummies, which I actually suspect will be the more difficult of the sock patterns I've chosen. It's a top-down, very basic model. Continuing on into 2015 I will try different methods of construction,  including toe-up, hat-heel, etc., and different methods of adornment including Fair Isle, and possibly mirrored designs. I've also attempted to select patterns from across the span of resources available to me: pattern books, Ravelry, blogs, Knitty.com, and Pinterest.

This blog is my accountability meter, the promise that this challenge is being taken seriously (mostly) and will be accomplished (to some degree).

Right, now on to finish...the baby blanket I started for a baby who was born early, last Friday. Oy.