The Second Sock

The first sock. It's like a breakup. You've spent weeks and weeks, forming a relationship with that particular sock. And, then, it's done. Sometimes, its very sad -- the sock was a perfect knit. But, before you can mourn the relationship, you cast on the second sock, and it's your chance to relive the romance. Then, you have a pair, and a love that will last a lifetime. But, sometimes, it's a very bad breakup. The pattern was really complicated, but not particularly fun, the heel was a real heel - this would be a good place to put up a gallery of my rogue socks, but no need to revisit those one hit wonders. And, sometimes, the relationship was just plain old boring, round and round you go . . . Bind of that toe, slip it on, everyone goes ooo, ah . . . but then, sigh, now the second one. Start all over. Go back to the well. The relationship was ok, no magic. The sense of accomplishment of finishing the first sock is shortlived, it's almost as if it never happened, because what good is one sock? So, it's not hard to understand why I've been procrastinating casting on my second sock - because it's a monster sock, not even a sock at all, but a stocking:



Round and round. And, the wool is beautiful -- Bluefaced Leicester from the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival, but from the Cuff to the first set of decreases is 70 rounds. 70! Oy! And then, once they're finished, these stockings are not going to stand up on their on, on no. They need support. I have to sew in some elastic, or wear a garter -- now, wait, hmmmm . . . that could be fun!

And, as always, socks, like boys, like buses -- there's always a next one! On to the second sock, the future garter, and whatever follows . . .