For a worrier like me, knitting is like rubbing worry beads or pacing the floor. Instead of biting my nails, I knit. Every stitch is infused with Essence of Mother — a little bit of love, a little bit of guilt and a little bit of worry.
At least with knitting, you have something to show for it besides calluses, stubby nails or worn-out carpet. In this case, it’s the Arizona socks.
Their progress from cast-on to bind-off was fairly fast, borne of the lingering frigid cold and spanning the Winter Olympic Games. Unlike other WIPs which have gone on vacations or field trips to playgrounds and doctor’s offices, these socks were homebodies. This was where you could find them most nights:
To recap, these socks are the second FO I have this year (yes, I’m cheating and counting C’s green socks which were finished on New Year’s Day).
They have gotten me through:
- De-Christmasing the house and the subsequent desire to throw out everything and start anew from the ground up;
- The Polar Vortex — and all the other vortices that were just as cold, if not colder;
- A stretch of insomnia that I never thought would end;
- The Super Bowl;
- The return of “good” TV — namely, Downton Abbey and Sherlock;
- The first wave of Girl Scout cookies (and we still have loads more — oh my!);
- The first swipe at doing taxes (oy vey!); and
- The first week of the Winter Olympics.
Not bad, little socks. Not bad.