Knit a Jaywalker: It’ll make ya feel betta!
I am the world’s pokiest sock knitter. This is not for lack of love, because I truly adore the idea of knitting socks. My stash is replete with sock yarns in divine permutations and I am ever vigilantly trawling for more (yes, I have a problem; let’s not go there). My queue and faves list in Ravelry is positively teeming with sock patterns. Toe-up, cuff down, lace, cables, I heart them all. I daydream of socks in glorious colors and exquisite patterns.
But the execution, well, it has its own plans for me. Maybe it’s related to the fact that I’m knitting with the equivalent of some toothpicks and dental floss that has me uptight. Or maybe it’s the ever present horror of dropping one teensy stitch and having it gleefully setting free all its friends as it rides down the side of my sock, unraveling hours of painstaking work. Whatever the case, I stitch deliberately and slowly when knitting socks. I find tension creeping into my neck, and my hands moving steadily closer and closer to my face as I squint to make the stitches. One sock always turns out smaller than the other even when knit exactly the same. And it’s always the second sock. You’d think by the second sock I would have worked through the tough spots and been able to breeze on through. But no. Somehow the second sock always reflects more tension than the first.
So how to enjoy knitting my beloved socks? Accept my inner pokiness and just knit socks anyway I suppose. It’s always winter somewhere. A pair of socks finished in days is just as useful and lovely as a pair finished in months. Maybe it’s just a bit like life – it’s all about finding ways to enjoy the ride.