I adore hand knit socks. They are so comfy. They are so pretty. They are practical and yet a luxury. My only problem seems to be that they come in pairs and I am prone to second sock syndrome. That fact is the reason I was so proud of myself for whipping up the Hermione's Everyday Socks using Hedgehog Fibers so quickly last spring. The yarn was from an exchange years ago and I was doing my best to knit with stash yarn. I had had my eye on the pattern for a while for its simplicity and I had just finished The Weekender sweater by Andrea Mowry and I was ready to knit something smaller. Smaller doesn't necessarily mean less stitches though. I read somewhere that the average pair of hand knit socks is around 17,000 stitches. If you are ever gifted a pair of hand knit socks you should appreciate a few things. First, sock needles are tiny. Tiny needles plus a bazillion stitches means the gift giver really really likes you. Second, its takes a lot of willpower to mak
For the last year I have mostly been a monogamous knitter. I would power through one project at a time, fully completing it, weaving in ends, and blocking it before moving on to the next cast on, no matter how much I was jonesing for the next project. This method is usually the most productive one for me personally. Otherwise I end up with mostly finished WIPs waiting patiently for their ends to be woven in or seams to be sewn and they can languish for YEARS that way. But after I finished the STRIPES! sweater I got cast-on-itis. I had previously cast on a Love Note sweater by Tin Can Knits for my daughter but I didn't love the way the yarns were together and I felt like it would end up with enough itch factor that she wouldn't wear it, so it had been set aside waiting for the right fingering weight yarn to go with the silk mohair I had ready. Once I had the * right * yarn it really began to fly but, of course, in the meantime while I looked for the right yarn I had a