Good and Bad, We Made it Through

This blog post is about the trials and tribulations on why sometimes it takes a long time to birth a pair of socks.

Knitting is like any loving relationship. You have good days and bad days; an on-and-off cycle of passion. This particular sock knitting journey started as a vanilla-colored skein of yarn…boring!

Over 2 years ago, my friend, Lynn Koolish, offered to dye some yarn for me. I packaged up a plain vanilla skein of  yarn and gave Lynn some general color ideas. My heart stuttered when Lynn sent back a beautiful dark blue and magenta skein of yarn. What a stunningly fabulous makeover!

I lusted over this yarn for a year, or more. Something special needed to be made from this colorful ball of string. “I love you, oh beautiful yarn, stay with me and I will make you into something that will keep me warm!” It had to be…a pair of socks for ME!

And so the stitching began, using Cat Bordhi’s “Bartholomew’s Tantalizing Socks” pattern. My love affair continued with another spark. I loved this sock pattern, it was fun to knit and I loved how the linen stitch looked with this hand-dyed yarn. Stitch by stitch with 5 wooden sticks I produced one beautiful sock.

Of course, one sock is not enough, so I started on sock 2. As I approached the ankle of sock 2, I realized my love affair was starting to fizzle like a fire under a sprinkler. It became obvious, that I did not have enough yarn to complete the second sock. I was disgusted and cast them aside.

I was loving everything about these socks, the yarn, the design, the fit (of sock 1). The yarn let me down, I was devastated. I thought for months on how to save this relationship. Of course, even if I asked Lynn to dye more yarn for me…she could never dye it exactly the same. It would be obvious if I incorporated another yarn into sock 2. Months past and I pondered if I could ever save this dying love affair. My mojo was gone, it was easier to leave them abandoned then face the reality.

When problems happen, a knitter often resorts to unknitting (aka frogging). They rip away the knit fabric one stitch at a time, like reversing the clock, until the offensive problem has been removed or the entire project is once again just a ball of string. I hate frogging! It’s heartbreaking. I resist it with all my might, but sometimes when there are no other options, a knitter must turn back the hands of time and start again.

So over a year after I abandoned my socks, I finally gave in. I wanted this yarn to warm my feet. The only option I could see to save this love affair, was to frog the toe of sock 1.  My plan:  like some sort of yarn IV, I would use the yarn I carefully unraveled from the toe of sock 1 to feed the knitting for sock 2. The result two equally toe-less socks.

The next hurdle, with two matched socks equally incomplete, I had to find a way to finish the toes of both socks. The sock gods were with me this past week, as I had a perfect yarn sitting in my stash. I have no idea why I purchased the magenta yarn, which happened to be the same gauge and super-wash wool as Lynn’s yarn. As if by destiny, it was meant to mend my failing sock relationship.

Today, a matching pair of socks rest in my drawer. Yes, I could have purchased a pair of socks for less, but I wouldn’t be able to love them as I do these. Like any loving relationship, we have a history together, something that no one can take from us. Good and bad, we made it through, such is the story of my relationship with these colorful socks.