I’ve figured out I only really have to cheat on the two segments that form the innermost edges of my socks–the ones that never see both points of my circular needle. For the outer edges, I can shift stitches around to have that K2tog-Y0 where I need it, even if it jumps needles. The inner edges, by virtue of their attachments to the middle sections of the circular needles, cannot be shifted. But I’ve figured out a way to almost invisibly make the pattern work. Well, I think I’ve succeeded.
Okay, if you’re staring at my feet, you’ll see it. But in the charming way my mother used to put it, if you’re staring at my feet I’ve done something wrong already.
So I have come to the milestone in my career where I feel confident…ahem cocky…enough in my skills to adapt a pattern to suit my particular needs…ahem neurosis. What does this say about my knitting? About my attitude?
No, I don’t have problems with authority, but I prefer to think I am aware enough of my strengths and weaknesses as a knitter (mainly that it’s more important that I produce two socks simultaneously than face a lifetime of owning one perfect sock) to plot the wisest course through a project.
I do really enjoy this yarn and the delicate winding of these yarn-overs. Spiffy but not over-complicated. I’m not sure I’d ever wear complicated socks. Then again, socks as a project are really growing on me…they present a technical challenge while being highly functional, they travel well, and you don’t run the risk of poking out the eye of the person next to you on the plane or at the conference.
I’ve got the perfect amount yet to go…another couple of inches on the leg–before I attempt the brain-boiling challenge of turning of two heels at once. This could become very entertaining.
Well, for you maybe.