Sock Madness

It's official: I am certified. And I now belong to a group who are all equally as daffy. The Sock Madness Forever group on Ravelry are sock aficionados who, for the last seven years, have competitively knit socks beginning in March, at the time of the NCAA college basketball championship games. It's always seemed that the elimination events were interminable, and finally some knitters said enough was enough: 'Bout time we had our own March Madness. So Sock Madness was born. It's evolved and grown over seven years, moving from a webpage and a yahoo group to the present day group home on Ravelry.

The premise is simple: Knit socks as fast as you can. And knit them exactly as they are written from a pattern that is emailed to registered participants, who then almost instantaneously begin to knit them up.

Seven different pairs of them.

Not all at once, but progressing in difficulty with each pair. Each participant is placed on a Team with knitters of roughly equivalent skill and tempo. The number of slots on a Team is significantly fewer than the number of participants on a Team, so time is of the essence. The first to finish move on to the next round. The slowpokes then cheer from the sidelines. 

Knitters are eliminated each round as others on the team finish ahead of them  for the coveted spots. There are several fewer spots each round than there are knitters remaining on the Team, so the pressure gets a little intense. And there are SEVEN rounds. And every round gets harder. And you have to work faster. And there are fewer spots on each Team as you progress. This goes on until the last round, Round Seven, when only one representative from each team remains to knit the mother-of-all-sock patterns. A real lulu. The best of the best knit a crazily impossible (well, almost) pattern. Only one knitter emerges victorious, and that is the Sock Madness winner of the year. 

If you thought the NCAA tournament is long, then guess what: Sock Madness runs from early March to June. So yes, Sock Madness participants truly are Mad. 
     
The evil geniuses behind the friendly competition are Julie Sprague and Tricia Weatherston, who organize the event each year, fielding sock designs and prizes from donors for the next Madness from around the globe. They knit pretty much nonstop in an effort to determine their degree of difficulty. From the legions of hopeful designers, nine are chosen: a Pre-Madness sock, seven competition socks, and an Optional Round sock. Julie and Tricia are tireless promoters, cheerleaders, counselors, tricksters, hand-holders, fairy godmothers, and magicians. 

Prizes are distributed throughout the competition: They're awarded for everything from taking an unusual photo of finished socks, to making interesting modifications to optional round socks, to suggesting names for the Teams, to posting helpful techniques info, to soothing knitters who experience broken needles, to guessing the total number of pairs of socks that will be completed during Sock Madness, to  .... well, it goes on and on. Participants can receive a prize for anything the organizers have a whim to award one for. 

This year is the first year I've participated, and I am proud to say that I made it all the way to Round Five before being eliminated. That's a couple of rounds further than I ever dreamed I'd be able to accomplish. At first I wondered if I were even 'competitive knitting material'. But the Madness is so friendly, the participants so eager to help each other that it became apparent that all of us were winners, no matter how far we were able to progress. Our sock knitting chops are stretched to the limit and beyond. Everyone, it seems, experiences something that is new to them or learns a new technique. These are my socks from the madness this year. All of them are destined to be gifts, and I am happy to call this bunch of international sock knitting maniacs friends. 

and the optional round sock, which I haven't had time to complete yet:

While I wait for Sock Madness 8 in 2014, I'll happily knit away on the socks that I was unable to complete during the competition. I'll need all the rest I can get until then, when the non-stop Madness continues.

Shoo to 2012 - Happy 2013

Steph's Hurricane 

Camino de Santiago de
Compostela  

Miss Margaret Dashwood 

Squink 

Scion 

Not one for resolutions, it's still interesting to review the year gone by and think about the one before us.
Let's see.
I knit 12 pairs of socks in 2012, 5 of which I designed myself.
2 shawls -- from the same pattern, a rare thing in itself.
1 hat for charity

I started 4 sweaters, frogged 3 of them, and am almost finished with the one that stuck. The lucky winner is Hiro, and it's one of the best written sweater patterns ever. I mean it. Julia Farwell-Clay has clearly knit enough sweaters to design hers to avoid just about every common pitfall a handknit sweater can befall: The bottom edge is hemmed in a very elegant way, the yolk decreases are ingeniously hidden in the stranded colorwork, and short rows near the neck make the sweater hang properly when worn. The button band could only have been thought of by someone who has knit way too many cardigans where the fronts sag and bag -- the slightly smaller gauge of Hiro's buttonband really makes all the difference in the perfect fall of the sweater fronts. I could go on and on ... and have been for over a month now. But I digress. Here's a progress picture right after I began the third color, which was some weeks ago. Though it's not complete, it nearly is: One button band left to knit and attach, sew the underarms, knit the neck ribbing, sew on the buttons and she's done. Well, it needs a good blocking, but you get the gist.

ANYWAY, where was I?  Recapping 2012.
What else did I knit? Two things I swore I would never ever knit: a dishtowel and dishcloth. They were NOT for me, but for daughter Julia's lifelong pal and partner in crime Katie, honored at a bridal shower early last spring. So I caved and knit a purple and taupe dishtowel and a purple dishcloth, since Katie loves all things purple. She had the purple-est wedding on record, I think. So now that that is out of the way, I will never again knit either of these items. For whatever reason, the idea of knitted dishcloths just makes my skin crawl. I know there are legions of dishcloth knitters out there, but my name will never be on that list. Just as there are legions of knitters who think handknit socks are ridiculous -- I love handknit socks. To wear them once successfully is to be enslaved by the sock siren forever. Socks are my go-to comfort knitting. There's always socks on the needles, regardless of whatever else is going on.

Looking ahead in 2013.
I set a goal of knitting 13 pairs of socks in 2013. I see a trend developing for me: adding a pair a year to match the year. Any why not? I hope to design at least half of these. Gotta plump up the ranks of toe-up patterns, yanno.

I see two more sweaters in the near future: the Antler Cardigan and a toasty pullover, Mork. I have enough Ultra Alpaca in both Flannery Red and Cerulean Blue with which to knit Mork. Tough call, but I have a whole year ahead. It's another Julia Farwell-Clay design, and has set in sleeves and a cabled upper body.
Antler Cardigan, a Tin Can Knits design, is another circular yoke cardigan, with the yoke from cables. Maybe in robin's egg blue? Or a pale, washy ash? Or a fiery red? Lots of time to contemplate that one, too.

Since I have bought even more stash yarn less than three days into 2013, my goal is to limit purchases to perhaps once a quarter. Can I do that? Stay tuned. I've never claimed to have any discipline when it comes to yarn, but "It's getting a bit thick, what?" as Bertie Wooster would say.

Speaking of Gifts: New Sock Patterns

Gifts. The word strikes terror in the hearts of gift-knitting enthusiasts everywhere. It's not the gift itself that causes stress, but the amount of time remaining to do so. No matter when we start, there's never enough time to finish all our gift projects without some panic.

As my gift to knitters, I have two new toe-up textured sock patterns: Molly & Hector and Golly. Many of you may recognize the names from the BBC series Monarch of the Glen. I invested in the entire DVD set a few years ago, and never tire of the episodes, especially beloved for their breathtaking scenery, kilt-y goodness, and knitwear. But I digress. Molly & Hector is a unisex pattern, with charts for making a broad range of sizes.
Golly was written specifically for mansocks, but you can do with it what you will, as it has charts for a 60, 64, 72, and 80 stitch socks. Enjoy!

 Molly & Hector

 Golly

B R E A T H E

It was a long winter, but a very busy one.

No time = no posts. We sold our house in Austin, pulled up stakes, and hove back to the Mid Atlantic region, landing softly and squarely in the Blue Ridge Mountains, a mere three miles from the Blue Ridge Parkway. Mile marker 44, to be exact.

The cool thing about buying a house in winter is the joy of unexpected flora that is now your garden and yard.

Spring started yawning in late February with tiny crocuses poking up, daffodils stretching sunward, hyacinths bursting with fragrance and color, and forsythia arching all over the place. Now, it's the dogwood's turn. And for the last week, they've been glorious. I know they'll be back next year, because I had nothing to do with planting them.

We have them in the back yard, the front yard, the side yard, down the side slope, and probably behind the swath of bamboo on the eastern edge of the property. It's my favorite tree, a wonderful surprise, not having recogized it while house hunting in the dead of winter. I'll smile all spring as all the "new" discoveries keep make themselves known.

Knitting? Yes, I know this is *supposed* to be my knitting blog, but I just can't help but gush a bit about the new environs. I've done mostly socks, but also a couple of sweaters (in fit-and-starts progress), due to not knowing which boxes contained the bags ... or where those were. But slowly, slowly, much of my yarn stash and in-progress projects have been found. Still a mystery: Where did they put all my books??? They must be in the POD in the side yard, still shrouded in floor-to-ceiling boxed mystery until we have room for the contents. Going from a 3800 square feet house to an 1800 square foot one is a major shock, especially when considering all the 'stuff' we have. But it'll all work out. Life is simpler now.

Back to ogling dogwoods.

See the mountains in the background?

My view every single day now.

Aaaaaahhhhhh.

June through October

I'll just whoosh through June, July, and most of August because there's nothing noteworthy in muddling through oppressively hot, unbearably humid days, and the less said about summer in Texas, the better.

At the end of August, I became an empty nester, but not before transporting the fledglings to their respective schools.

The girls say goodbye to the pooches minutes before heading out.

My poor little Subaru was packed airtight, the roof loaded with Liz' bike, and behind balancing a cargo carrier with Claire's scooter, with only a 22" wide slot for one of them to squeeze into behind the driver. Claire said it was even too small knit! The girls took turns riding there; about the only thing one could do was nap, or watch one State after another roll by. Usually it was a retreat for the one who finished driving a leg, so even though it was a close fit, it was a snug little nest for resting.

Three days later, we arrived at my mother's in northwestern PA, for a two day layover to rest up and finish school shopping. The Subaru couldn't begin to hold what they needed, so we raided discount stores in Erie for lamps, bedding, electronics, batteries, art supplies, books, and goodies.

Claire, Grams and Liz

Liz was duly delivered to her apartment she's sharing with three other girls in Philadelphia, then Claire and I repacked the Sube, heading west 90 miles to her college in Ohio. Move-in day was gorgeous: In the low 70s , with nary a cloud in the sky. 

I thought we were going to be in for a long morning of lugging boxes up three flights of stairs, but the college organized teams of returning students to unload cars, running boxes, baggage, and keepsakes to the the rooms. It was AWESOME.

The scooter attracted a lot of attention, creating a small stir and some head scratching among students and faculty alike. "We've never had one on campus before!" exclaimed the Dean of Students. Everyone wanted to take it for a spin. Campus security wasn't sure if it should be classified as a car, sit in a remote lot and pay a parking sticker fee, or if it should be considered akin to a bike, parked next to the rack of Claire's dorm. After two days of leaving it on the front lawn of her dorm, they decided it was so cute and small that it could go next to the bike rack.

Cuteness wins every time

Now, after a week-and-a-half of being shoehorned into the car, it was absolutely empty. I was officially an empty nester, with a long roundabout drive back to Texas, where a newly landed job awaited my return.

No grass grows under my feet.

So went all of September and more than half of October. This interminably long summer may just be beginning to winding down. A summer where water bills ran to high three figures each month, more than double the cost of electricity. Yesterday, for the first time since mid-March, it was in the 60s for a daytime high, and only a tad cooler overnight. It rained an inch earlier in the week, which was almost 20% of our total rainfall thus far this year. Mother Nature's been messing with us for months, and is finally cutting us a break, however temporary.
Where'd I leave off? Socks. I've been a sock knitting fool since my internal porch light went on, all six of my brain cells feverishly cementing the concepts into variations on patterns. Definitely toe-up, and definitely some sort of pattern.


In July, the resulting socks, a pattern called 'SPRING FORWARD', which I knit toe-up. 

After one pair of plain stockinette socks with a ribbed leg, I called it a day. If it ain't interesting, I won't knit it. Besides, if I am crazy enough to knit socks, they should be challenging and noteworthy.

Letting the yarn do all the work is what plain stockinette socks are all about. Knit Magic Loop, toe-up, two balls of Regia Crazy Color #86 on US size 3 circular needles, matching the yarn striping placement on both socks.

Socks in OnLine's SOXX APPEAL, 'Los Monos Locos.' For me!



'Scion' is my own pattern. Great guy socks, if I do say so myself. Sean will be getting these for Christmas. One hank of DREAM IN COLOR Smooshy, color "Midnight Derby", knit toe-up on US size 2 circular needles, using Judy Becker's Magic Cast-On.

'Little Pumpkins' by Sabine Rupert. Knit in a 8 ply, DK weight Regia Uni 6 Fadig yarn, in the color-- what else?-- Pumpkin! on US 3 circular needles, toe up, Magic Loop. Very dense and warm! A Halloween Treat, I loaded them up with chocolates and sent them on their way to Claire today.



Double Eyelet Rib Toe-Up Socks, pattern by Wendy Johnson. 

My Halloween surprise for Liz, made from the same Regia DK weight yarn as Little Pumpkins (I got a great deal on the stuff : less than $3 a ball at Jimmy Beans Wool). I may have gone overboard a bit, buying 10 balls, but I'll have Halloween sock yarn for at least three years. Anyway, they are knit toe-up, Magic Loop, and I eliminated two pattern repeats for a total of 48 stitches on US size 4 needles. Yes, these were stuffed with chocolates, too (second pic), and sent off to Liz a few days ago.

Which brings me to gift knitting, which is consuming all my off hours. I never claimed to have a life.
Next post. (Gotcha!)

Sixth Time Charmed: Sock Curse BUSTED

Everyone makes socks. Except me.

Until now, that is. I started five cuff down first socks: The first pair was on two circs and really skinny indigo/forest green/charcoal/ivory Opal sock yarn. Everything was fine until the gusset. My brain melted. Same with first sock #2: I tried the same yarn on two circs again, trying a different book and pattern. Same problem: My brain hit the wall at the gusset. Then I tried with double points for first sock #3, and by that time, the yarn was looking a little chewy. The whole mess went into the trash, needles and all.

I set socks aside for a couple of months. Meanwhile, everyone and their dog in our knitting group was making socks right and left. I fumed and fussed over the fact that socks were besting me, so I enlisted the help of a knitting goddess, Lynn. She's a great teacher who knits beautifully. Try a larger gauge yarn, she said. You WILL knit them on double points, she said. So I brought up the yarn weight a notch to Lang Jawoll sock yarn and size 2 double pointed needles. Everything was fine with this first sock #4. I knit up to the gusset. Then I actually knit the gusset. The only problem was, the foot was large enough for Bigfoot. I left this charred-bone-of-a-project up on the Ravelry board; it is the lavender sock that is hibernating at the bottom of my projects page. The sock is still under the sofa, sulking in a ziploc bag at the bottom of a yarn bin. Once again, I went on sock hiatus, knitting up a beautiful lace shawl for Claire, two lace shrugs, a pair of colorwork mittens, the Mr. Greenjeans cardie, and three different winter hats. No socks, but everything else under the sun.

Another friend in our Austin knitting group, Sherrie, wanted use the month of May to make socks together at our Thursday morning group. Everyone loved the idea, so I sighed, went on a stash safari, and yanked out another hank of sock yarn, this time going for the heavy artillery: Hill Country Yarns INSTANT GRATIFICATION. It is big yarn for socks, and I could use size 4 or 5 needles. Maybe being able to see what I was knitting would help, I reasoned. Sherrie had just finished a toe up pair of socks, and was singing their praises: Better fitting toe, better fitting heel, the ability to try it on while in progress, and no picking up stitches. What the heck. Why not.

So I selected the toe-up version of the Monkey sock by Cookie A, called Los Monos Locos. Sherrie taught me the Figure 8 cast on, which was surprisingly easy, and off I went on first sock #5 via Magic Loop. (Here is a great video tutorial for the Figure 8 Cast On; be sure to scroll all the way down to get to the video.) Everything was going along beautifully. I knit the gusset, then the heel turn, then the first row of the leg. I couldn't believe it: I had made a complete body of a sock. Without incident. Without tantrums, tears, ugly ragged picked-up-stitches lines, unlimited frustration or sleepless nights.

But. And there's always a but, right?

It was far too big, as in too wide, too much sock. Not exactly looking like a sock for Bigfoot, just far too large proportionally. It was my huge yarn and huge needles. That was the trouble. I really like the yarn, so I frogged and rewound it, hoping to find the right pattern for it eventually. Like maybe a squishy pair of slippers or something.

Knowing I could knit this sock, I went on another stash safari, and decided to use the Knit One Crochet Too SOXX APPEAL I had bought on a whim during one of our yarn crawls at THE KNITTING NEST. Out came the US size 3 32"circs, and voila! Sixth time is charmed, my sock curse broken. A perfect fit on sock one! As soon as I bound it off, I began sock two. And two days later, it was a perfectly matched pair.

You know I need a life when I am ecstatic about making a pair of socks that fit and match.

Things went so well that I thought I'd make a pair of socks for my daughter's boyfriend, Caleb. He bought her an airline ticket to come back for a visit to Philadelphia over the Independence Day holiday. (Never mind that she's only been home from school for a little over 3 weeks!) It seemed appropriate that I make him a pair of gift socks. Truth is, I am now on a roll. After yet another stash safari in the Closet of Doom, I found two balls of Regia STRETCH COLOR , color 91, that would make perfect guy jean socks. After searching for a guy-ish pattern on the Ravelry pattern browser, I settled on Wendy's Fingering Weight Toe Up Socks With Gusset Heel. My modifications include using Judy Becker's Magic Cast on for the toe. That's a step up from the Figure 8, and Cat Bordhi made a humorous video to demonstrate the method here. I've completed 50% of the first sock, just now at mid-gusset. I also decided that instead of doing M1's, I'd knit through the front and the back loop (k1tfbl) for the edge increases so there'd be no holes. With Eye of Partridge slip stitching, so they'd be cushiony on the heel. Oh, and I am ribbing the leg to the cuff after the heel turn. Just not sure what ribbing style yet. (This is a 70 stitch sock with jacquard yarn ... got any ideas?) So far, they look great, even to me. Stay tuned.

I want to share these babies with you but have a new problem: I can't find my camera! I have been searching high and low for two days now. I know it's here somewhere, but it's hiding very well. Must have thrown it in a drawer .... or a bag ... or something, during all the graduation/party/houseguests/visiting relatives hubbub.

For now, you'll just have to take my word for it that I can FINALLY knit socks.