Don't you love it when someone asks you to talk about something you've thought about for a while, and that you're very interested in, and you could talk about at length? Me too. So today, I'm asking myself all those questions I want to answer about the socks I've made. I'm asking you, too - please feel free to take the questions and answer them in your own blog post. (And then leave a comment that you've done so, because I just assume that nobody reads my blog and therefore will not be looking for other sock knitters' self-interviews.) I'd like to hear what other sock knitters have to say about their experiences. Most information that's shared about our projects happens as we're making and finishing them, and I'd like to talk and hear more about what happens once they're in use.
1. Which pair, of all that you have made, are your favorite?
Ouch, I'm starting with a hard one. I don't know! I'll come back to this one.
2. Which pair do you reach for first out of the wash, and why?
To my surprise, this pair is my Trekking Monkeys. The colors are pretty mild and go with just about anything, they fit well, they're tall, they're usually first in line.
3. Which pair challenged you the most in the knitting?
I have two answers for this, because I've gained a lot of knitterly skills over the course of my sock knitting life. The first is Pomatomus. Stuff you read about being in "the zone" or "flow" or optimal consciousness - that totally happened when I was knitting Pomatomus. I was knitting something harder than I'd ever knit before, and I was sitting in a Borders cafe doing the first few repeats of the cuff, and the next time I looked up, three hours had passed. And I was like whoa.
The second one was knit much later, and it's the Squirrel Crack is Knit Crack Acorn Socks. In this sock, you make seven out of one or something. I don't really remember, I just remember calculating the number of acorns left in the sock and steeling myself and taking deep breaths. If I ever run into Anne Hanson in the grocery store, I will look at her sideways, because that woman is crazy. In a good way. I think.
4. Which pair is the most disastrous/disappointing, but that you nonetheless finished, perhaps against your better judgment?
I don't know what happened with these, but my Watermelon Tourmaline Railroad Rib socks are a mess. They're too loose, and the foot is slightly too short, and they pooled differently, and ugh. Pretty much the last pair I reach for of the ones still in circulation.
5. Which socks fit the best?
A calculated question - would this pair not be the favorite, or the one you reach for first? Not for me. To my surprise, my Mad Color Weave fit the best out of all of my socks. And I do sometimes wear them first, if they match-ish the clothes I'm wearing that day. I didn't particularly enjoy knitting these, but they're in my queue again because I love wearing them.
6. Which pattern could you make again and again and again and again? Other than plain stockinette.
Love RPM, am loving a second iteration of Crusoe. Vroom vroom, honk honk, outta my way, speed knitter coming through!!
7. Which pattern left you slinking away in utter defeat, glaring warily over your shoulder?
Hourglass. Someday, your time will come, Hourglass. Just not today. Or tomorrow. Stop looking at me.
8. Any sock tragedies?
Silkie Socks That Rock. Felty felty. They are now air cozies hiding in my bottom drawer. Sadface.
9. Do you have any crazy sock-related celebrations looming?
I'm so glad you asked! (Interviewing yourself is underrated!) I am eagerly stitching toward my Sock Centennial, or Socktennial (OF COURSE). I.e., my 100th pair finished. It will probably take another year or so, but when I finish my 100th pair, something good will happen. Haven't decided what. Am open to suggestions. Upon further thinking about it just now, I think it should involve socks and cake.
10. Alright, enough stalling: which is your favorite?
Okay, I thought of the answer as I was answering all the other stuff: my very first pair. Self-striping Schokenmeir Normatta Regatta Whatever, in Railroad Rib. The color changed just as I turned the heel, on both socks, and I was so stinkin proud to finish them and wear them. And then once I wore them, I was shocked that they were comfortable and warm, which meant that I was hooked.
That's it! Feel free to ask yourself any relevant questions that I left out. There are no Sock Knitting Self-Interviewing Police.