Pilgrim's Progress

I feel like a pilgrim, on a journey towards the unknown but assuredly blessed destination: a pair of handmade socks! Not just any socks, but a pair made just for me, she of the eternally cold feet. When learning a new skill or concentrating very hard, the human face contorts. My husband's mouth moves unconsciously when he drums, lips pulling in, pushing out, popping open and closed with the beats. Michael Jordan used to stick out his tongue when going in for a dunk. My bellydance students laugh at themselves when I gently suggest they practice facial expressions in the mirror, as their fierce frowns of concentration kind of detract from the beauty of the dance.

As I began my socks, trying to remember how to do the magic-loop cast on while calculating in my mind exactly how to do TWO at a time (with no instruction on this last bit), I knew I was making the face. My husband captured it: proof that those two lines between my brows are not from frowning in a bad mood, but from extreme concentration!

Note the wee face peeking over my left shoulder.

The aha! moment of delight..."I did it wrong," (and had to frog it), "but now, By George, I think I've got it!"

Margot shares in my joy. She still says "cheese"!

If you, like my husband, are mind-boggled at the idea of knitting two socks simultaneously, I assure you: it's not magic (although it's pretty darn close!). You can see the toe of the sock taking shape, and the two balls I'm working with. Basically, I knit across the sole of one sock, then switch yarn and knit across the sole of the other. Then I turn it all around, pull the needle through, and knit across the instep of the second sock, and then across the instep of the first. Easy, right?

These lines on my face will be deeper by the time these babies are done. I'm aiming to wear them on my 37th birthday. Hand knit socks bring the same pleasure as wearing fancy lingerie under jeans and a t-shirt. No one can see them, no one knows they're handmade (and no one cares)...but YOU know. It's a decadent pleasure, a bit of luxury on the least luxurious part of our bodies, our feet. They fit delightfully, look gorgeous (when you pull up your pantleg to show them to people who don't really care), and are something practical and just for you.

Find someone to teach you, and get knitting!