Sock Summit Preparation Journal, Entry #1:
In the beginning was procrastination, and God saw it, but He didn't say that it was good
I have probably bit off more than I can chew. When laying out my goals in preparation for my Sock Summit design classes, I calculated my knitting preparation for the three months that then stretched out before me. They seemed like an eternity and I figured that, since I can easily knit a pair of socks in two weeks, that 6-8 socks would be a comfortable jog to the Sock Summit finish line.
Really, I am in training—training for a weekend marathon of intense learning. But I have become like the casual runner who decides to sign up for the Boston Marathon. You know, the person who talks about how far and how often they run because they like to hear themselves called a runner, but in reality they only run about a mile a week and only then if it is convenient on their lunch break at work? And only then if there are no tasty lunch prospects on the potential running day?
I have realized that my lack of more intense knitting training before now is going to create a push to the end; a necessary flurry of knitting activity in order to not stand out in my classes as that chick who thought it would just sound “cool” to say she was a sock designer, prompting several eye rolls round the room upon my repeated asking of stupid questions. (Whoever said there were no stupid questions was stupid. Someone who doesn’t prepare for the test definitely deserves to have their questions called stupid.)
So why procrastinate? (see today's blog title...) When I find myself in these situations (this is not my first daydream rodeo) I find it a nice retreat to focus on the on the possibilities—the infinite possibilities under the best of circumstances. In other words, if I dream about the extravagant success I might experience--it gives me hope.
If I am the lazy runner, then dreaming about the finish line feels better than looking at the reality of my crazy planning schedule that will surely follow the languid, starry-eyed leisure of the fantasy finish line.
While I plan to continue—on occasion—to do a little Anthony Robbins-style success visualization, I am now ready for the hard work at hand.
After completing my last pair of simple socks during the weekend retreat with my knitting club, I am hitting it hard.
I have chosen to begin with Chrissy Gardener’s top-down Autumn in Oregon socks. Top-down is my most comfortable style, and feels like a good place to start. They have a separately knitted decorative top, which is then sewn together. This makes for a little extra style kick that I have never tried.
Having picked up my stitches from there, I have feverishly progressed down the leg, and over this past few days have surprisingly made it almost to the heel flap, which also is new for me: the pattern, which is until the heel has been knit in the round on 3-4dpns, will be back and forth.
The raindrops lace pattern will be worked back and forth on both sides, with no additional charting for that part, and the YO row on the "wrong side," but I believe I have figured it out: the purls become knits (of course) and the purl-direction YO followed by a purl two together will become a K2tog followed by a knit-direction YO.
That’s my plan, anyway.
No emergencies so far, and I am quite surprised, frankly, that I have been able to keep up with the lacey pattern of the fabric. Ironically, the multiple changes in textures and patterns have been a help and not a hindrance. This is because each change creates a frame for the next pattern, making it easier to keep track of. This feature of the pattern also has made it surprisingly easy to almost completely memorize early on, with only a few occasional glances at the pattern needed.
For these reasons, I would encourage anyone thinking that this pattern looks pretty cool not to shy away. You can download it on Ravelry.
You might want to join me in a little bit of big dreaming. For all its flaws, it’s a pretty nice pastime.