Golden-footed.

My beautiful socks are complete! I have never worked with such tiny yarn before and I was fully prepared for a month or two of sock knitting. Turns out, I can knit a pair of socks in a week. When I really want to. And I don’t have much else going on that week. And I accidentally omit one repeat of the sock pattern on the legs. And they’re really, really pretty.

They are wonderful. I am nearly bursting with pride when I tell you that the two socks are even the same size. (These are actually the second pair of socks I’ve knit. About six years ago I made socks that can only loosely be described as a pair due to them being knit at completely different gauges.) The only way I could love these socks more is if I were colourblind.

Sigh.

I often consider myself to be a bright person. If not the sharpest tool in the shed, then at least a well-maintained utility knife. I can’t compete with a freshly sharpened scythe, say, but I’m holding my own against the rusty old shears and the bucket of miscellaneous gardening forks. If you need something effective yet less intimidating than the Grim Reaper’s tool of choice, then I’m your gal.

And then something like this happens.

I got my shipment of wool from Knit Picks and saw that the kettle dyed wool I ordered was more of a solid yellow. I bit disappointing, I guess, but still very nice wool. I fished the end of the yarn from the centre of the ball and was pleased to discover that it looked quite different when I started knitting it up. It took on a much paler colour with gorgeous variation in colour. There were even a few times where I paused to compare the sock in progress to the outside of the ball of wool and thought to myself “amazing what a difference it makes!”

Sure enough, about halfway through knitting the second sock I came across a knot in the yarn.  The knot that anyone else would have seen coming. The knot that joined dyelot A from the inside of the ball I’d been using for my socks to dyelot B I’d been looking at on the outside of the ball. They weren’t different because of the amazing and magical power of knitted fabric over wound yarn. They were different because they were totally and completely different.

At this point I’m one and a half socks in. I’m committed and I really would have settled for anything to wear on my left foot that would have allowed me to wear the lovely completed sock on my right foot. Even ordering another ball of wool is no guarantee I’ll get a better match than I’ve already got. So I just sucked it up and finished the sock, wonky colour change and all.

Pattern: Monkey by Cookie A with no-purl modification

Yarn: Knit Picks Stroll Kettle Dyed in Gold

Needles: 2.25mm (US 1) dpns

(raveled)

I should add that I phoned Knit Picks and they lived up to their reputation for excellent customer service. They apologized and immediately shipped me some replacement wool. (A post for another day, probably, but it is rare to find a company like Knit Picks who believes that “customer service” is “providing service to customers”. More often I feel that they define “customer service” as “informing the customer that they can suck it and giving them contact information for some other company you are choosing to blame for their current situation.”)

On the bright side, these socks still make me insanely happy and hey, free wool.

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  1. Pingback: Gauge-tastic « Dance Like No One is Watching

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