Six Sick Socks

You're out of the woods

You're out of the dark
You're out of the night
Step into the sun
Step into the light
           Lyrics by Edgar Harburg, from The Wizard of Oz

I’m finally feeling like a human being again. At last, food tastes good – especially that spoonful of peanut butter I had late last night.

While under the weather, I drank a lot of herbal tea and water, did some nasal rinses, took antibiotics, watched TV, and knitted boot socks. Six pairs. (I’m nearly done with a seventh pair.)

This is the same boot sock pattern I’ve been knitting for 30 years. So it’s as mindless a pattern as can be. I use this pattern to play with constraints. I try to make every pair unique. I use the same yarn (used to be Reynold’s Candide, now it’s Briggs & Little Heritage). I never change the stitch pattern. I only change colors.

 

There is one exception to my every-pair-unique strategy. I always have a pair of red socks with pink toes. I call them my CiCi Socks, in memory of my dear friend CiCi Rock. She taught me to knit socks after she gave me a pair of boot socks that were red with pink toes. She changed my life. She died just after I moved to Michigan to begin my life as a fiber artist. Damn cancer.

Don’t think for a minute that I have too many pairs of boot socks. Even though there is no snow on the ground right now, there will be. And winter is long here. So I use boot socks nearly every day. And they wear out; typically the heel goes first because of the abrasion in the boot.

When I wear a hole in the heel, I give the socks to my dear friend, Becky McD. We wear the same size socks/shoes. And she likes to darn socks. So these socks get a new life. And I get to knit more boot socks. A win-win, I’d say.