Sunday, March 25, 2012

Disappointment, in stripes

I find it quite interesting that no matter how long it might take to count all of one's blessings, there is still room in the human heart for despair.

Even if you've memorized that thing about knowing what you can change and what you can't and having the wisdom to know the difference.

You know?  There are so many things over which we have no control, and it's important to accept that, but it's still SUPER frustrating when, in the midst of things you can't control, you pick up something you can, in theory, control, only to find

 you're not controlling it either.

I refer, of course, to the first half of my summer socks:

This is supposed to be an exercise in me controlling my personal climate to make up for the very long list of stuff I can't control at all.  Instead, it's just making me crazypants.  What you are looking at there is version three of the sock. Or do I mean 'four'?  Let's review:

1/ knit right through to the end of the toe at Trish's and then ignored for a day, because it was that obvious the closed-over part did its closing-over a lot too late for the shoes I'm making the socks for.

2/ ripped back in front of some TV so terrible it barely provided any of the distraction I was hoping for, then started again just a bit earlier than the previous closey-over part to make a longer closed area.

3/ knit right through to the end of the toe on a car trip, only to discover that I hadn't ripped back far enough the first time OR cast on the correct number of stitches for the close.

4/ ripped back in the car owing to my not having brought a long a second project less complicated than my lace shawl, which I'm now positively terrified to touch again.  (I mean, if I can't even get a sock right...)

Yep, I make that three.

Most of this sock has been pure grind, and not fun at all, with the sole exception of the part done on Trish's front porch, which has now disappeared.  The part, not the porch (as far as I know.)  And while it may seem that the toe of a sock is nothing, just a superquick swish of the needles, it actually appears to be taking me about an hour each time.  With no guarantee of it being right this time either.

Okay, enough whining:  the question is, how do I get past the despair?  I have considered several options:

1/ vacuum the house so everything around me is bright and pretty and sparkly and not crunchy underfoot

2/ pull my sewing machine to the front of my desk and piece together a tote back I've been excited about

3/ bake the cookies I seem to have committed to have ready by Thursday

4/ sit and read

5/ give up entirely and have a nap

6/ not have a nap, but instead pull apart a messy closet and put it back together more neatly this time


7/ put some tea together with a hot cross bun and then get on the outside of them.

I think some combination of the above is probably going to be effective, especially if I pick one of the control-my-surroundings options.

What would you do?


susan said...

You could do what I did last week. Knit,mistake,unravel,knit mistake,unravel - Hate :( - go on therapeutic bikeride to immerse in nature - put bike down on grass - knitting falls out of pannier - ride off not noticing that knitting has fallen out to fend for itself - wake up in middle of the night and realise knitting is missing - realise I love knitting - reunited with knitting - knitting and I having time out from each other - new knitting on needles - now making other knitting look super attractive again - goes to prove that knitting is always circular regardless of the needles!

Mary Keenan said...

That is so funny! (because you got the knitting back; otherwise, TRAGIC) I realized this afternoon my time out from my previous Socks of Frustration is making them look nicer again too, or at any rate nicer than the stripeys of doom ;^)

Pauline said...

I'm not that clear about the nature of your problem, but it seems to not be evident until the toe is complete, so would knitting toe-up allow you to avoid the problem? Maybe do this after an alternative calming solution such as my favorite: stuff it in a project bag and ignore it for a few months.

Mary Keenan said...

Aha - you make a good point, Pauline! If I did toe-up, I'd definitely know whether the cover-up area goes far enough to be visible under the front of the Mary Jane shoe... and as I recall, my original toe-up sock pattern notes got stuffed into project storage more than a few months ago when I kept getting wrong the point where the heel should start. Maybe their times is now ;^)