It's All About Pointy Sticks and String at Our House

This is what could be called an... alternative use of a knitting needle:

Proof that it really is all about pointy sticks and string in our house.

John has a new fly rod, and needed my assistance to wind on his line. It turns out that a Brittany #8 needle is a perfect axle for fishing line.

I had a most wonderful visit to my *ahem* LYS the other day (am I cool now? Should I admit it took me forever to figure out "LYS" means "Local Yarn Store?" Never mind. Yeah. I can be dim.) I have these yummy socks I knit many years ago (eek. More than ten years ago, now that I think) that are extraordinarily special because they are made out of Marie's handspun:

One of them developed a hole, right in the arch, so it was an unfortunate yarn failure, rather than my bony heels or pointy bunions. I then did something monumentally stupid: thinking it would be a good idea to somehow knit a flap and graft it into the sock, I cut a big hole in the sole of the sock. Thus, they are my "My Lai Socks." I nearly had to destroy one in a misguided attempt to save it. (NB: If, after this post, I get Google hits for "My Lai Sock," I will be very, very frightened.) They have languished in my stash chest for lo these eight years or so now (I only wore them sparingly when they were still whole, preserving their wooly warmth for indoor use). I don't know how to darn, you see, and I refuse to let these socks go. Yarn spun by my friend, springy cables and thick wool encasing my ankles - these socks have to be in shreds before I will let them go. I love them beyond reason.

So, in a mad frenzy to spend my Valentine's gift certificate yesterday, I brought my sock. I had a half-formed plan: I would wave it in front of the lovely women at the LYS, and see if any knitting wisdom would emerge. Perhaps a lesson in darning, or an advanced grafting lecture.

It was touch and go for a few minutes. After all of the knitladies in the shop had a chance to look at the sock and shake their heads and cluck over its tattered state, one of them asked me, "Why don't you just throw it away?"

"Because my friend spun the yarn."

Behold, the power of handspun. There was mobilization. A space on the table was cleared. Lyn lay the patient on the table and proceeded to find the correct passage in a knitter's encyclopedia. I sat and put a couple of rows on my clapotis* while Lyn, clearly considering this to be a personal challenge, wrought. For the price of the nylon yarn that was used to make the base layer of the repair, I now have this:

It's a bit rough and ready, but I can wear my My Lai socks yet again. My feet are warm and I am happy.

*curious? Well, we have progress and I have a vacation day tomorrow:

Posted: Sunday - February 19, 2006 at 06:25 PM | |