Tuesday, May 31, 2016

A very tiny practical knit

This is easily the smallest thing I've ever knit, and wow, does it ever look forlorn in this picture. 


A tiny tube of colour in a sea of white tile. 

To make the tiny tube, I cast on 16 stitches in stripey sock yarn on 2.25mm round needles and did about 10 rounds of K1, P1 ribbing (well, actually I cast on 12 stitches and did that but it was too small, so I ripped out and started over) and used up all of a scrap piece of yarn left over from a long-ago sock.

And no, the tube wasn't going to be a ring, though it did just fit on my pinkie finger. 


Criminy, how did my hands get to look so - well, grownup?  Is it because I'm dangerously close to what other people might consider grown up, or because I never remember to put hand cream on? 

Digression: do you remember to do that and if so, How?  Every time I think of it, I'm about to sit down and knit and don't want to get my yarn all gooey, or I have to wash dishes or do laundry which I know will make the hand cream pointless.  Probably I should park a bottle of hand cream beside my keyboard because my keyboard doesn't care about the backs of my hands.  My hands might not end up looking like they're 20 years old again, but at least I'll have made the effort.

Anyhoo: the tiny knit.  Here it is again:

Shiny new shoes, ugly old floor: ironic photography at its finest

It's inside these new sandals!  It is AMAzing how effective a tiny tube of knitting is at protecting a baby toe from the dangers inherent in new sandals.  

I was so thrilled to find these things because I could tell at a glance that they would be really, really comfy and walk-in-able in spite of having a heel.  And I was right.  After years of no heels whatsoever I wore them out walking to and from a 10-minute-distant destination the day I got them with no discomfort except for my baby toe which was
freaking.
out. 

I mean we are talking about a four-block running monologue of Hello, what are you thinking Mary, you can't coddle me for 10 years either in a sock or in sandals that don't go anywhere near me and then pull a stunt like this, how can you do this to me, etc. etc.

I didn't know my baby toe knew some of the words it was using to describe the situation, honestly.

When I got home from that walk I remembered my old work friend Kristen tipping me off about Dr. Scholl's brand lambswool, and how you could just tear off a little of it and stuff it inside your pointy dress heels to avert exactly this sort of disaster.  You know as well as I do that there is a ton of lambswool here at Hugs in the form of roving I haven't had a chance to spin, and it wouldn't have taken a big effort to tear off a little of that. 

But... a little knitted tube seemed safer.  Less likely to shift over the course of an outing.  And it really works.

So, if your baby toes start making complainy noises at you this summer?  16 stitches, K1 P1 ribbing.  (or 20 stitches, if 16 is too small.)

See you tomorrow!