pairs are a unique opportunity for a knitter to prove her tenacity and rise to a challenge. I will also accept that if I know someone who is willing to wear mismatched socks, I may never meet this challenge.
Tinking:
The act of unknitting knitting
one stitch at a time.
I t is used to correct small and recent errors, and its advantage is that the knitting need not be removed from the needles, saving time and concern for dropped stitches. It is called âtinkâ because that is âknitâ spelled backward.
I will consider, no matter how afraid I am that I might not be able to get my work back on the needles, that tinking is not the answer if I need to undo 67 rows of 100 stitches.
Â
A positive attitude may not solve all
your problems, but it will annoy enough
people to make it worth the effort.
â H ERM A LBRIGHT
T here are many different ways to knit socks. I use the flap heel, always, every time. I think itâs pretty clever, I like that I can reinforce the flap where the back of the shoe rubs, and I like picking up stitches for the gussets. I lied. I
love
picking up stitches for the gussets. I like that, at least in my mind, when I turn the heel, I am halfway. Gloriously halfway.
When celebrating the halfway point on a sock, I will try to let my joy be complete, and forget that there is still another sock to go.
Â
Hard work never killed anybody,
but why take a chance?
â E DGAR B ERGEN
I ntarsia is pretty cool, but its downside is that when you are finished there are a multitude of ends to weave in. We all wish there was some way around this but, sadly, there is no way to do intarsia without ends decorating the inside like shag carpet. I would advise you to weave in as you go ⦠as Iâve learned from my mistakes. The last time I did intarsia, when I left all the ends until I was finished, then, overwhelmed by the sheer mass of ends, I suffered a fit of apoplexy and denied all knowledge of the sweater.
I will remember that weaving in as I go increases the odds of having a finished project.
Â
Just think of all those women on the
Titanic
who said, âNo, thank you,â
to dessert that night. And for what!
â E RMA B OMBECK
W hen I was frustrated that my baby daughter wouldnât sleep through the night, my mother urged me to be patient. âThis could be the last night she gets up,â she told me. âHow do you want your last nighttime feeding to be?â Iâve applied this attitude to my yarn-buying activity. This could be the last yarn I buy. What would I want the last yarn I buy to be? What if tomorrow ⦠I canât buy yarn anymore?
I will remember that this attitude, although it increases the quality of yarn that I buy and my willingness to treat myself, can hamper my ability to pay the mortgage.
Â
There are no menial jobs,
only menial attitudes.
â W ILLIAM B ENNETT
O nce you get the hang of them, socks can be pretty mundane. A plain navy blue dress sock for my husband goes around and around and around enough times that I begin to imagine that grooming a llama with my tongue would be more fun. I play little games with myself, races to see how fast I can knit, bribing myself with coffee or chocolate at the end of each row ⦠but, to be quite honest, a navy blue dress sock is an insult to the knitter, and this is elevated to injury when you realize you still have to knit a second one.
When considering this menial task, I will remember that my husband puts âshe knits me dress socksâ at the top of the list when he recounts the reasons that he loves me.
Â
Put duties aside at least an hour before bed
and perform soothing, quiet activities that
will help you relax.
â D IANNE H ALES
K nitting is perfect for this. I make a habit of setting aside some time each evening to take out my knitting and work quietly on it, happily relaxing. I believe that it prepares me for sleep and washes away the cares of my
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