Fugly Socks

I've been on this finishing kick (or UFO jihad, if you prefer), and while I was re-organizing the stash to be more space-efficient, I pulled out the yarn for the shop sample socks I knit in August of 2004. Since they were shop samples (which dutifully were there until we sold out of each colorway), I didn't feel compelled to knit their mates immediately.

So, a few months ago I found myself with a half dozen pairs of socks. I looked at them, UFOs that they were and thought, "I can boost my FO count if I just knit the mate to these."

It's amazing. I don't have second sock syndrome, because there has been enough time between the first and second sock that it's new and fun and fabulous again. So the cure for SSS is a two-year separation period from the initial dose of sock.

Except for the sock I cast on Saturday. It the brown/tan/salmon/blue Meilenweit. It is inexplicably fugly. I know this, because that's where I looked for the color number so any of my 5 readers could find it (in the unlikely event that they found it attractive). This color is so ugly that it's not even on the Lana Grossa website.

I think they were ashamed. It came off of the production line, they knitted a sample, and were horrified. But as P.T. Barnum cleverly pointed out, people like me are born every minute.

The tragic irony of the fugly color, is that it matches a million things I have that AREN'T fugly. I finished the second sock, but criminy. I'm surprised that anyone bought it once they saw what it looked like. It looked nice enough in the ball. I was bamboozled.

The only downfall of my brilliant SSS cure is that two years ago, I liked a different heel. I liked the shortrowed heel for about a year. I no longer like doing it or wearing the garter-stitch version of this heel. Standard flap heels work better in non-clog shoes. I'm doing a regular flap heel on their mates, so the socks are a little more fraternal than normal. S'all good, I say.

[Note: I am not an anal-retentive knitter that requires my socks to be identical. In high school, I regularly wore mismatched socks deliberately. My mother, who dutifully was knitting me completed pairs of socks then, was a little miffed with this particular fashion decision. I only wear matched socks now because I do the laundry and want to know which socks the dogs have stolen out of the basket.]

When I started this jihad against my UFO's, I pulled my favorite half-pair, which has only been held up because I no longer am in love with the garter-stitch short-row heel. I'm sorry, it's great in clogs, but not ideal in regular shoes. Now that I'm in regular shoes more than clogs, this is a big deal.

I've gotten rid of 95% of my garter-heeled socks. These socks were distributed globally. (Seriously, someone sent a few pairs to her sister in Germany.) This is fine with me; not only is my sock drawer still full to the bursting point, I have enough sock yarn to knit socks through the apocalypse. Seriously. [Another reason that the Yarn Diet is necessary- I have entire Space Bags full of exclusively sock yarn.]

Anyway- I bought yarn for Day-Glow socks on the honeymoon (in Seattle at the Acorn Street Yarn Shop **), - I knit the first one right after the honeymoon- when I was in the midst of my love affair with the garter heel.

I didn't get second sock syndrome, only because I had to pack everything when we moved into the house, so the cuff of the second sock was at the completed to the beginning of the no-longer loved garter heel. Every time I saw this sock, I was saddened that I no longer loved the heel, and would undoubtedly never wear it.

In the spirit of the UFO jihad, I decided that I would not be defeated. I ripped out the first sock to the beginning of the heel. HA! Everyone knows that once the heel is done, the sock is basically finished.

Easy cheese.

**If you find yourself in Seattle, and near Acorn Street Yarn Shop, make sure to go up the street to Nana's Soup House. It will change your life.

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