Well friends, it's official. I have arrived. I am, officially, a Knitter of Socks. I see your reactions vividly in my mind: those of you who don't knit, or who do but haven't crossed the scarf/hat barrier yet, are all sufficiently impressed by my skills. You are marveling at my handiwork and shaking your heads, sure you could never complete such a project [which is of course completely untrue, as I remember thinking this once myself]. For those of my friends who do knit, you are remembering that first sock of your own. You know what it means.This is both a proud and puzzling moment in this knitter's career; I realize, as I reflect with pride on the admittedly impressive article I've constructed, how truly inefficient sock-knitting is as a use of my time. I mean, honestly. Socks are cheap, and often hidden by shoes. They are an extremely challenging and time-consuming project, and, frankly, a rather anti-climactic final product. So . . . why? I think, largely, because I can. I have now entered that unspoken club of knitters that knit socks. I keep waiting for someone to jump out and teach me the secret handshake. Or maybe I don't learn the handshake until my first sweater is completed?
Anyway, I love my sock, and it's partner is currently under construction. I can't wait to wear them around the house and tell everyone around that I made them myself.
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