For the past several weeks, since autumn has graced us with its lovely, chilly presence, I've had an insatiable urge to make my own socks.
Why? Who knows. But I seriously think about it whenever I'm not decidedly doing anything else. Since this became somewhat of a problem (I'm in school, for one, and it probably would make friends and boyfriend kinda jealous if they knew just how much of my thought content was dedicated to this) I spent several hours of designated study breaks at the local bookstore (franchise) pouring over books of sock patterns.
Confession: I have been knitting for 14 years...and I still don't know how to read a pattern. Sorry, Mom.
So as I looked at book after book of sock pattern, waiting for one of them to be in plain enough English to explain itself to me, one phrase kept coming to mind:
"What does that even mean?!"
Patterns are clearly just not in my cards.
About three Christmases ago, my grandmother taught me how to crochet, saying it was easier. I'm not sure I agree with her, but I definitely feel like it promotes creativity more readily than knitting. This being the case, I set out, last night, in the midst of Justin's brother's birthday celebration to simply make them.
Next up on this topic, pictures of progress and details of how it's going...or possible surrender.
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