Still on the sock kick. I brought my finished sock and my sock-in-progress to S'nB last night. I even let a few people hold my baby - I mean sock (yes, they were careful and gentle). I'm happily knitting the sister (the girls were joking last night that my socks will be Irish twins). I thought I'd find it boring to knit the same sock over again, but I'm actually enjoying it. I feel like I know what I'm doing - a very experienced, accomplished knitter kind of feeling. (I'm such a faker.)
I've also cast on for my 2nd set of twins. I'm attempting the Monkey sock pattern from Knitty, using TOFUtsies #719. The yarn is much finer than the Magic Stripes. I started the sock yesterday on #2 dpns, but after knitting the cuff and half of the pattern repeat, I realized that it was too big. I must be a loose knitter (the only area of my life in which I'm loose, I'll have you know). I ripped it out (painful) and started over on #1s. Knitting the first several rows on dpns is something I find very awkward. I fumble and fight with the needles, grateful that I'm knitting in solitude in the privacy of my own home. If anyone ever observed me during this time, I'd bet they'd take the needles and yarn away from me and hand me a box of crayons and some newsprint, assuring me it's for my own good.
The Monkey pattern calls for an inch of K1P1 rib. I have a very strong dislike for knitting in twisted K1P1 rib. Can't stand it. It's so tedious and it takes me forever, especially when I'm at the awkward beginning rows on dpns. All that back and forth with the yarn. The thought of K1P1 all over again on tinier needles made me want to impale myself on the dpns. I decided to stick with the K2P2 rib I'd done on my first socks - although that's not a barrel of laughs for me either. In the picture shown above, I've just finished the ribbing (did you hear the WOOHOO?") and I'm ready to begin the pattern. A little nervous. The cuff seems so much smaller than the too big cuff from the #2 dpns. I'll keep my fingers crossed. If I have to start over, you'll have to put me in the cage with the monkeys at the zoo.
Just a little chuckle to share. Today, my parents, who are in their seventies, are going to the Mohegan Sun. Not to gamble. Not to enjoy fine dining. But to attend a concert. Josh Groban? No. The Spinners? Nope. Gerry & the Pacemakers? Nah. I know, I know . . . .Glen Campbell? Wrong again (he's not coming until August - and no making fun - I like Wichita Lineman). They're going to wear their concert tee-shirts and raise their Bic lighters for MEATLOAF! Actually, my mother will probably have her fingers in her ears, asking "Does it have to be that loud? It's kind of loud, isn't it?" My father will keep looking straight ahead, pretending he's not with her. To be honest, they didn't purchase the tickets. They didn't see Meatloaf on the list of upcoming performers and shout, "We've gotta score some seats!" They were invited by my father's brother and his wife to share in the complimentary tickets they'd received. Perhaps they initially misinterpreted the invitation as an opportunity to go out and eat meatloaf, and then didn't want to back out once they figured out what they'd gotten themselves into. But still . . . my parents are going to a Meatloaf concert. My mother's ears will probably be ringing for days. My father will probably be cranking up the volume on a newly acquired Meatloaf - Bat Out of Hell CD. Ain't no doubt about it, we were doubly blessed . . .