Friday, April 11, 2008

A Tale of Two Socks

This little lovely has been tailing along in my bag all week:

My husband would love to be able to say that it was slated for him but alas, it is not. For, you see, a dear friend of mine has a bit of a problem that I am hoping this sock will cure.

What problem, you ask? She is an extremely talented knitter whose husband has yet to develop an appreciation for hand-knit goods. I know. I will wait while you pick yourself up from the floor and settle once more in your chair. This poor knitter must deal with a mate whose only requests in a sweater are that it be dark and nondescript. Dark grey or dark blue, if you please, although black would do in a pinch. No cables, no texture, no nothing. Oh the horror.

And this is where I come in. A few weeks ago while I was knitting my way through a vacation, I decided that I needed a new project: convincing this man to learn to love hand-knits. Taking a cue from my own husband, who happens to love hand-knits very much, I decided that socks would be the way to go. Once you have worn a pair of hand-knit socks, store-bought ones will ever seem inferior and second-rate. Plus, I could use a simple (to put it mildly) pattern in a lovely deep charcoal heather yarn that was machine-washable to boot (Trekking Pro Natura). Add in an eye of the partridge heel flap for extra cushioning and durability and hopefully I will have provided a step along the way towards a deep and abiding love for hand-knit garments.

Meanwhile, my husband must make do with this:

Waiting patiently for me to graft the toe, we have the Trekking sock from a few posts ago. What my husband really wants is a fair isle sweater. Something along the lines of this one, which I designed and knit up a few years ago as a Christmas present for my father.

I know that self-striping yarn is a poor substitute for intricately wrought stranded knitting but it will have to do for now. I have been mulling over various pattern ideas and nothing has clicked yet. In the meantime, I continue to work on the socks as a bit of a peace offering (and to distract him from the promise of a fair isle at some as-yet-to-be-defined future date).

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