Socks and stubbornness
At my brother’s, I also knit quite a bit of sock. I had a couple of inches done when I got there, and knit while we were barbecuing, taking some time to slow down so I could explain and demonstrate to the aforementioned five-year-old what I was doing — and show her that my cardigan, and her socks, and her shirt, were also knitted, just much smaller Vs and smaller yarn on smaller needles in a machine. (Come to think of it, that may be why she ran inside and put on grandma’s sweater.)
I went right on knitting as we went inside to warm up, and got so far that I cast off that first sock. For some reason that I’m sure had everything to do with bad lighting and nothing to do with a couple of glasses of rosé, it took me probably four tries to cast on another toe. Good lord. (It’s telling that after the third time, I muttered something about wine and stuffed the needles and yarn back in the bag, and then about three minutes later fished them out again because damn if I was going to be defeated by some string and sticks. Or at least that’s what I’m assuming was going on in my head. I can be pretty stubborn.)
The socks are for a friend’s dad — we’ve been invited along on some fun excursions to his little house in the archipelago, and on a recent ski trip he mentioned that he’d darned some old socks, and I decided to knit him some new warm socks as a general thank you. The yarn is Viking of Norway Superwash, which I actually bought on the way back from that ski trip. We stopped in a little hamlet for lunch, and I saw a yarn shop out of the corner of my eye and made P join me on a sprint back there. The pattern is a straightforward toe-up with a short-row heel.