Okay, I fiddled with the tension and got the fabric I wanted, and I threw some stash Regia (4 color #2032) on there and over the course of two nights, I cranked and twiddled and picked up dropped stitches (How hard is it to pick up a dropped stitch when the fabric is under tension? It runs like a scared rabbit, my friends.) and cursed when I didn't move the heel fork up often enough (if you don't know what that means, don't worry) and counted rows to get them to match and voila! (as if that were representative of something effortless ::snerk::) socks.
Really? They look like co-joined twins, don't they? You have to knit everything in a continuous tube, so in there you might be able to pick out my red scrap yarn for the transitions, and four turnings, which will make up toes and heels when the tube is cut apart and kitchenered together correctly.
Did the desirability factor just peg down another notch? What, don't you fancy grafting together 30 stitches at a time? But look what you get for your troubles.
Real socks. Picot tops, short row heels and toes. Not too bad, eh? And that's just a beginner's sock.
So you don't think I've totally gone over to the dark side, I'll show you that there has been real manual knitting going on between the tantrums (mine and otherwise)
A Swallowtail shawl ( IK, Fall 2006) in the elusive sparkly green hand-spun (yes, Susan, it's true!) ready for the second chart.
Some commented that the cables might render the scarf undesirable for the Punk-in-Training sensibilities of my step son, but I quickly found out that this scarf will probably never have just one owner. The Mister raised his eyebrows approvingly several times in the direction of the scarf as it emerged from the needles, and Miss C asked if maybe I could knit her a scarf like that in her favorite colour.
"What's your favorite colour?" I had to ask because honey, I have no idea from one week to the next.
Oh. Of course.