I don't even want to put up the photo of this work in progress because I think I would also have to add a photo of me eating humble pie, or crow, or whatever it is one eats when one...how to phrase it?
Changes one's mind.
I swore up and down, in and out, that I would never, I mean never
make a sock.
I am knitting a sock.
I do not know how this happened. I was looking for another project to start and I was rifling through a little box of patterns and there was a pair of socks. I don't have sock yarn (and I'm not too concerned about breaking that promise because the stuff is pricey.) I am using regular, worsted weight yarn - the pattern even calls for it. I looked through the pattern (I've owned it for years and never read it) and I said, it doesn't seem that hard. Then I had a conversation with myself where I talked myself into giving it a shot. This must be a residual effect of the 101 fever that ravaged me for three days last week. The portion of my immune system adverse to sock making has been severely compromised.
I also recently saw the episode of Knitty-Gritty with Stephanie Pearl-McPhee where she said the thing that made not want to make socks (they are the only knitted item that if used the way it should will wear out. So the only reason to knit socks for someone is because you love them.) She then preceded to knit a pair on television.
I still hold true to the philosophy. I am knitting them to sell them at the craft sale or on line. I also happen to like socks under certain circumstances as going barefoot outside of my house is a complete no-no.
And darn it (forgive the pun) if the thing isn't turning out like it's supposed to. And I'm even enjoying it. I've even thought about making the other one when this one is done and having a pair of socks.
What' s the world coming to when you can't even stick relentlessly to a poorly thought out principle?