There and back again a Geek's tale

I survived Comic Con 2008 and lived to tell about it. Actually, my telling is rather late, as the news of Con was all over the internet seconds after it began. People were busy blogging and uploading pictures all over the convention center before panel chairs had gone cold. Comic Con is Geek Heaven, and everywhere you look there are i-phones and blackberries, lap tops and digital cameras. Everyone is talking and texting and snapping photos like mad. And, since you spend a huge amount of your time standing in line it seems perfectly logical to use that time uploading photos to Flikr, and answering the same question over and over. "What are you standing in line for? Somehow, I think if I had dared to knit while standing in line the whole place probably would have gone into lock down. Natural fiber! Wooden needles! No computer chips!

the crowd

I've never had 5 days fly past so quickly or been so tired when it was over. As things went I never had a chance to meet up with someone I very much wanted to and I am very bummed over it. (Sorry Nancy) Once the convention center traps you, it's over. It doesn't give up its dead easily. Once I saw the nightmare that is con, I knew I wasn't going to test mine or Nancy's mettle in trying to deal with all those people and all that traffic. She was better off where she was, tucked up snug at home and enjoying her garden and sewing.

Day 1, the reporter goes to work

Five days later...

I had a great time, and almost felt 18 again, until 3 days of 12 mile a day walking caught up with me. Then I just wanted curl up on my bag of swag and die. I rallied again on Saturday after sleeping until noon, and spending a day in the sun and fresh air on Sunday worked wonders. I couldn't visit San Diego without some time spent by the water and the maritime museum. However, by 4:30 a.m. Monday morning at the San Diego Airport, both Beth and I looked like we could have starred in Planet Terror. (After running out of shirts, I was forced to wear a free swag shirt with Terminator on the front which didn't help matters any.)

the Zoners

Despite my complaining about walking 1.5 miles uphill to our hotel on 4 consecutive nights (that's after that 9 miles at the convention center, walking to dinner, etc.), I was declared a great traveling companion and praised for keeping my end up. I met Beth's editors and put several names with real life faces from The Zone at AintItCoolNews. I was declared "cool" for being a mom over 40 attending Comic Con. It's easy to forget "we moms" were the original fan girls who stood in line for the first Star Trek movie, Wrath of Con and dressed up as Princess Leia for Star Wars episodes IV, V, and VI. Without us, this crop wouldn't be here.

Ray Stevenson and me (he still wears his 13th legion ring BTW)

I sat mere feet away from Rick Baker, Zach Snyder, and David Boreanez. I got an autograph from Ray Stevenson who played Pullo in Rome (the whole event passed in a mist as I basked in the glow of his wonderful smile and blue eyes.)

Nathan Fillian

I actually glimpsed Nathan Fillian as I was forced by the sheer strength and size of the crowd to circle the booth twice while he was signing autographs. I wanted to meet him so badly and tell him how much I loved the film Waitress, but I was shunned in favor of a woman wearing a full length velour cape covered in Comic Con buttons. Maybe next year...

a wall of t-shirts

If you like to show your geekyness by wearing t-shirts, then Comic Con is the place for you. This photo shows only one wall of a 4 sided booth. Actually 8 sides, as all four of the inside walls were covered as well. There were T-shirts of every conceivable kind (I splurged on a Firefly hoodie). Comic Con is a sea of t-shirts, action figures, posters, and costumes. A life size Archie the Owl ship from Watchman hovered over the convention floor. Row upon row of comic books and the artists who created them scribbled autographs and sketches. I fell in love with the Elizabeth Swann dolls by Tonner and was ready to pull out my wallet for the Lara Croft had she been available.



Achimedes, Night Owl's ship from Watchman.











Archie's insides. I have no idea if there
was a coffee maker...










There is a phenomenon at Con, that I just can't quite grasp. The insanity of SWAG. Don't get me wrong, I love my free t-shirts, and collecting buttons for my lanyard. My BONES poster and Rock Me Sexy Jesus bracelet are among my favorite swag of con. But fighting people for giant shopping bags? It's true. I spent 3 days coveting the "Big Frakkin Bag" but I wasn't willing to risk my life to get one. I swear Warner Brothers has ulterior motives when they purposefully release a new bag every 12 hours at 20 minute intervals. And Fox's free poster tubes? Gone on preview night. As one bus driver told us, "Today's hot bag is tomorrows garbage, and we'll be seeing them around the streets for the next six months." I kept picturing the sleeping bums blanketed in "Big Fracking Bags" all winter...

the big frakkin bag

I lunched with a producer of the Simpsons, who congratulated me on what a talented daughter I had, and asked how could he raise his baby girl to make sure she turned out just as geeky. That was the best compliment I've ever had. I only wish my answer had been better. (ask me again Don, I've been practicing) We all had a great time and you couldn't ask for a nicer, more down-to-earth geek of a person. It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Payne.

the Simpsons panel

Saturday is costume day and I worked as line manager for Lara Croft. By days end we were really wishing we charged $5 a photo.

Beth and Ewan McGregor?

Beth, Scott and Eric (the editors)
















Even Jabba had to have a picture with Lara Croft...















Beth got to meet Lena Headey, and I had my first real anger management issue, when someone leaked the stars wear abouts and we were descended upon by paparazzi. After waiting eons for first the autograph session to end, and then the inevitable executive ass kissing, I was shoved away by a wall of photographers just as Ms. Headey was introduced to the Cinematical team and we got our photo op. Somewhere out there are loads of photos of Lara Croft and Lena Headey, and they are by rights mine. Cough 'em up you paparazzi scum! Lena Headey was sweet and understanding. Beth had a chance to talk with her later at a party and apologized profusely for putting her arm around the ladies waist. Lena told her not worry about it, it wasn't a problem at all, and that Beth had "looked great."

Scott, Beth, and Lena Headey (barely)

And now, here, in Colorado, the buzz from Comic Con is wearing thin, the foothills saw their first dusting of snow and the leaves are beginning to turn. Summer went by much to quickly. I had a great time but I am very content to be back in my Hobbit hole with my knitting and my puppies, and a stack of good books. I'm 1/2 way through my first graphic novel, Watchman. Jane Austin forgive me, but I have succumbed to the power of the comic book. I've got to be ready for next year.

-Tigerlily

Miss Pettigrew Goes To Comic Con

The list of duties for my replacement is posted on the refrigerator door. I've done the laundry and cleaned the house within an inch of its life. Had a complete physical including an unexpected UGI. Finished two pirate shirts for closing fair weekend, and prepped for the sewing I need to do when I get back. Broke down in tears on Saturday. I think to say I'm feeling a bit frayed around the edges would be accurate.




The bags are packed. Actually, they've been packed and unpacked, double and triple checked, and every time I think there can't possibly be one more thing we need, I remember something else.

1. Boarding passes, Comic Con ticket receipts and daily schedule, check.
2. Camera, cell phones & all necessary cords, memory cards & batteries, check.
3. Lara Croft guns, holsters, outfit, braid and boobs, check.
(boots won't fit, so Brenda Starr will be wearing them, TSA wll love that...)
4. Entire Laura Mercier makeup counter, check.

I keep thinking about those signs at the airport that talk about smart travelers packing light and being prepared for screening with their one quart ziploc bag containing 3 bottles of liquids and I want to just throw up in the roller tray. I know that every woman traveling in the airport at that moment must have checked a trunk containing her makeup, facial products and shoes alone.

(Have you ever noticed how all women travelers at the airport look? Their clothing is color coordinated, their makeup impeccable, their hair is coiffed and their wearing heels. They aren't even sweating. I'll be puffing like a freight train, sans make up, my hair in a clip, and wearing flip flops so I don't have to struggle with my shoes at screening. I'll look like I haven't slept for a week and must be rushing to the bedside of a dying friend. I must have missed the class on "How A Lady Travels" in girl school.)



We've had our spa day with hair coloring, highlighting, hair cuts, manicures, pedicures (open toed shoes) What must it have been like to get ready for a transcontinental oceanic crossing and European tour in the 1890's? They had to change clothes several times a day and "dress" for dinner every night.

Once a schedule contains a cocktail party, a red carpet party, and chance of celebrity interviews, all hope of traveling with just a few pairs of jeans, t-shirts and a pony tail holder vanished faster than you can say push up bra. Even if you only take one pair of heels and three dresses, there's the necessary underpinnings, jewelery and smoky eye "evening" makeup. All hope of fitting everything in a carry on size suitcase are long gone. We're just hoping we make the weight limit.



I'm feeling very relieved that I'm only the social secretary and therefore not required to make an appearance at anything where I may end up wearing my food. ( I do have a secret weapon that ladies in the 1890's wish they'd had, a Tide stain stick) However, Brenda Starr says it is quite possible she may be allowed to bring a guest, so Miss Pettigrew must be prepared for all eventualities. I think I may need a bigger suitcase for the anti-wrinkle cream...

Pretty women, Fascinating...Sipping coffee,
Dancing...Pretty women are a wonder. Pretty women!

-Tigerlily

Weigh anchor and hoist the mizzen!

We've entered the silly season for us folks who like to dress up and pretend we are someone else. The Colorado Renaissance Festival is in full swing in Larkspur and the shire is looking especially pretty this year. After spending a few days with Mike in Orange County, CA ( We went to Disneyland!), I rushed home and spent 2 days of non-stop sewing. The waistcoat came off like a dream, but the first pair of breeches were too small. I was up till 2am finishing the second pair along with 23 buttons and buttonholes! Saturday dawned cool and crisp, perfect fair weather, and we had a great time.


I'm not sure if it's the fact that Sarah is dating Jack Sparrow, or that we long so for the sea that we just can't get the smell of salt water out of our noses, but we have set aside more regal courtly attire for pirate garb and we may never go back. No plaids for Highlands Weekend, no breath restricting corsets, we've traded them for tricorns and cutlasses. Why fight with skirts when you can have drop front breeches? Besides, pirates live to accessorize!


With belts and baldrics, boots and sash, flintlocks and cutlass, their is just no end to the ways in which a pirate can make her kit her own. And one can never have to much leather and buckles or feathers... But tis too true, we are naught but humble pirates!


Unfortunately, it looks as though our faire may well be about to embark on a voyage that may bring changes that don't suit us pirates. For more information on the bilge sucking scum, you can read this article. In protest, our scurvy crew may just set sail for other ports next season like New Orleans for Pyrate Con. It's going to prove a bit difficult to haul the ship overland till we hit open seas, but maybe we can enlist the help of Calypso...


I think this is all just great practice for our future. With global warming and the melting of the polar ice caps (the North Pole is predicted to completely melt this summer for the very first time) and the subsequent rise in ocean levels, we figure it won't be long before life could look a lot like Water World. Why not plan ahead and take up piracy? Imagine if you will, a vessel under full sail pulling up alongside a Carnival Cruise ship, and its swarthy crew of buccaneers climbing aboard. The passengers would think it was all part of the entertainment and gladly hand over their money, rings and watches. But the bilge rats (that's us) would take off with their plunder, leaving the shocked and now empty handed party goers alive but broke. High seas adventure with grog and open buffets. Sounds grand doesn't it lad?


Here's Beth's version of Elizabeth Swann, brandishing her Chinese sword and looking very sexy for a scallywag. Blimey! And who knows, with the world in such bad shape it could be we'd become privateers, letters of marque in hand, working for the government as it were. Aargh!



Sarah debuted a new look this year. Her pirate cast away, dressed in tattered clothes, complete with crab on a stick. She had a bag of sea creatures for the kids and had crabs and fish bones tucked in all kinds of unexpected places. She walked around sunburned and dazed, shouting I've got crabs to the crowd.

Hoist the Jolly Roger and weigh the anchor. It's time we left this port. Better were the days when mastery of seas came not from bargains struck with eldritch creatures... but from the sweat of a man's brow and the strength of his back alone. You all know this to be true!

-Tigerlilly

P.S.
(Sarah made this Jack Sparrow flag, complete with raveling edges, and it's double-sided.)

The Green Flash

The green flash is a phenomenon I'll talk more about later on, but it's also what I've decided we should call the switch from winter to summer here in Colorado. I said we only had two seasons, and true to its word, winter went out in a flash of light and temperatures leaped into the upper 80's in 24 hours. The world went hot and green instantly. Trees went from bare brown limbs to leafy bowers, and the foothills look like Ireland. It's all sadly temporary, as all too soon our arid conditions will quickly deplete any excess moisture and the bluffs will once again return to brown.

The smell of summer is definitely on the wind. Fresh cut grass, warm damp earth, grill smoke. While making a last minute trip to the grocery store, I caught the aroma of hot asphalt and French fries and suddenly I was back in the motor home on one of our trips when the girls were small. Florida, California, New Orleans. If you added the scent of hot rubber I'd find myself on a ride at a Disney theme park. If you add the sour beer smell plus the crumbling dusty scent of old brick and make the air so heavy with humidity you could lift it, you'd be in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Add the tang that only salt can give the air and I'm in San Diego or Sanibel Island.

After 3 weeks of non-stop planting, nurturing, worrying, fretting and overwatering, all the pots and urns got filled. My tomato plants got caught in the last snow, but have miraculously bounced back and yesterday I found the first blossoms. Now if Mother Earth will just see fit to bless me with thriving plants, the sunburn and sore muscles will have been worth it.

We added a set of temple bells to the wind chimes, along with one of bamboo, and when gales of wind coming off the foothills don't tie them all into knots, they actually sound quite soothing. My cornflowers and sea shell cosmos seeds have sprouted in the back flowerbed, along with a hand full of sweet peas, but not one hollyhock or California poppy. I have been trying to grow California poppies ever since we had a huge bed of them in Loveland, way back in 1976. That's a whole lot of seeds and no luck! I tried a new blend from Renee's Garden Seeds called Tropical Sunset, and had short lived success, but the inch long sprouts have all curled up and died.

Before the paint

I did manage to steal a few days for sewing before the full brunt of outside work hit. I had to wait through one final snowstorm for bright summer sunshine to photograph it. A free patten from Fig Tree & Company, called Cabanna Squares, this quilt is a burst of sunshine in a blue sky. I can't help but smile every time I look at it.

Cabana Squares Quilt

The fabrics are all Fig Tree Quilts as well, from the Dandelion Girl collection. Large squares of prints in yellow, peach, brown, green and blue. The border strips are a pale yellow leaf print, and the back is my favorite blue covered in yellow roses. I tie quilted the whole thing with yellow crochet thread and stitched in the ditch once around the edge so that folded triangles that edge the top and bottom would lay down. A stack of fabric and patterns suddenly appeared on my work table. Renaissance Fair season is here. How could I have thought I'd get off this year without sewing something new for someone?

Cabana Squares Quilt

I spent two days this past week priming the courtyard fence/pergola. I was in the shade for the better part of the first 3 hours and the breeze was cool. The dogs kept me company the entire time. I began to feel a lot like Tom Sawyer whitewashing. Unlike Tom, no amount of trickery worked on the pups. Not a single one lifted a paw to help. Instead they wailed as if they were being beaten when I was forced to move to the outside of the fence. Beth (from here on out to be known as Huck Finn) did the wobbly ladder bit on the outside tip top. We managed to hit the side of the house, splatter the hose until it looked like a dalmation and liberally dollop the rocks. Even the flowers got hit when the wind picked up my roller splatter. Apparently exterior paint is different than interior, because it refuses to wash off. The swipes on my arms, shoulders, chin and splattered toes will just have to wear off. Despite sunblock, my arms and face broke out in freckles so heavily I look like someone rolled me in brown sugar.

Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer Day 2:

Beth and I headed outside again early Sunday morning and started the real painting. When we finished the second coat of green it was 2pm and Beth suggested we go for broke and do the plum as well. By 5 pm we were blind from sun glare, fried from the heat and so sticky from sunblock we couldn't let go of the rollers anymore. This is when things generally take a downward turn, when you start getting punchy. We'd been tracking the flight of a pair of hawks all afternoon. They were calling and circling overhead like vultures. Beth looks up and comments that the hawks are back and Quincy spontaneously bursts into song, about hawks making lazy circles in the sky from Oklahoma. Beth got the giggles and tipped over the entire can of plum paint. At least it happened on the river rock and not the pavers!

(Just for clarification, and only true pet lovers can understand or appreciate this, our dogs each have unique voices and personalities and often carry on whole conversations. They just happen to also be fond of musical theater. If this is all too weird, imagine what the neighbors must think when several childish voices begin singing Sweeney Todd)

Finished at last

And, even though my wrists and hands were stiff from painting I finished two pairs of socks.
Pebble Beach and The Green Flash Shell Socks.

Pebble Beach Socks, Opal Crazy # 1901, size 1 dpn

The green flash is another reminder to me of summer and days spent at the beach. In the summer of 2004 we spent a wonderful week on Sanibel Island in Florida. Every evening everyone watches the red ball of the sun over the vast blue ocean, as it gradually sinks lower and lower in the sky, waiting for the moment the flaming golden sphere hits the horizon line of the sea. It is at this moment, when atmospheric conditions are just right, that you might catch a glimpse of the elusive green flash.

One of the earliest published accounts of the green flash comes from W. Swan, who first observed the phenomenon in 1865, but did not submit his writings to Nature magazine for almost 20 years. Some speculate that Jules Verne's 1882 romance Le Rayon-Vert (translated "the green ray") sparked a widespread interest in the flash that prompted Swan, and perhaps other observers, to let the public in on their sightings. Verne's account includes a quote he attributes to Scottish legend: "He who has been fortunate enough to behold it is enabled to see closely into his own heart."

Despite technical explanations and detailed accounts from around the world, I still find that lovely Scottish legend the most intriguing and romantic of explanations. That legend has it that this incredible phenomenon can only be seen by true lovers fits so wonderfully well with my own opinion, that the green flash signals the Flying Dutchman is on the move between worlds. Will Turner is sailing home to his beloved Elizabeth Swann. So keep a weathered eye on that horizon...

The Green Flash Socks
Blue Moon Socks that Rock lightweight, color: Count Cluckula, needle size 2 dpn

It was when I reached the foot portion of this sock, and the striping began, that the colors began to remind me of the incredible sunsets over Sanibel Island in Florida. The most incredible colors of pink, blue, orange, even purple, streak across a sky that began blue and ended indigo. The "flashes" of green in the yarn is how these socks got their name.

These socks were knit using the Little Shell Socks pattern. The shell pattern of the upper sock is not very visible in my photo, but is very pretty. The stitch pattern creates little eyelets on each side of the shell. For additional notes, check out Mind of Winter's page for her take on the Little Shell Socks.

-Tigerlily

Wierd Science

Ruby Bear basking while I photographed socks

Spring is making slow but steady progress. Sunshine; hours of it pushing away the gray. Sunshine so bright I have to adjust the blinds to protect my retinas in the morning is a beautiful thing. The doggies are loving it. We are all loving it. But, for every three steps forward there are two back. It is in fact snowing as I write this. Springtime "showers" are an anomaly here. Colorado only has two seasons, Winter and Summer. Here's proof:

This little House Finch is trying to make the best of a bad situation. They are once again setting up housekeeping in the neighbors evergreen, just on the other side of the fence from the barn feeder. It is hard to believe that yesterday's temperatures were in the 70's. In a mad moment of heat stroke and spring fever I pulled out all the flower pots and hung up the wind chimes. The wind began to blow, the temperature to drop, and in came the cold finger of old man winter taking yet another pot shot at us dreamers of sunshine. After-all, it is only the first day of May!

Warm weather makes me once again believe I can garden, which I can't. I drool over seed catalogs and six packs of flowers and long for an English country garden. With four dogs and a yard the size of a postage stamp longing is about as far as it gets. I have a few packets of flower seeds waiting to be sown, but every time I plan to start we get more bad weather.






In an effort to cheer my doldrums, all my African violets are in full bloom and the Christmas cactus has decided to flower again as well, giving me hope that Spring really is on the way.




Beth and I will simply have to be content with pots of flowers in the courtyard and patio and what flowers we can grow in the single bed out back. Since we had a bit of success with a Roma tomato plant last summer, we decided to grow more this year. I started six heirloom tomato plants in a tiny peat pot terrarium. Transplanted into bigger pots they are now getting quite large. The unstable weather means they are still waiting, basking in the grow light from my new hydroponic garden or the limited sunshine of the kitchen windowsill.

Mike brought home the Aero garden in hopes I would save money on all those fresh herbs I buy at the grocery store. On sale, plus a rebate brought the price down considerably. Everything sprouted within 14 days, and the rate of growth is phenomenal. I am so intrigued by this space age phenomenon, that I am tempted to buy the super large model that can accommodate tomatoes. The Aero garden maks lovely dripping noises as the vitamin packed water flows through the seed cups, and the grow light has the entire kitchen glowing for 16 hours a day (those are compact fluorescent bulbs BTW) It has reminder lights for adding nutrients and water approximately every two weeks.

Just three weeks after planting

Obviously, this is not a practical or economic method for growing say, enough lettuce for a family. You'd wipe out the entire crop for one dinner salad. And it is silly to grow things that are cheap and readily available, like parsley. However, it is a great way to grow herbs, as they are extremely expensive to buy fresh, and don't last long. I should be able to harvest several times from this batch before having to replant. I've been researching what people are doing with their hydroponic gardens, and have found lots of folks like me, curious about experimenting with planting their own seeds. In response, the company now provided cups and planting medium (a kind of spongy stuff) so that you can plant the seeds of your choice. I was already figuring I would clean the roots out of the cups and continue to reuse them. Seed kits for the garden run $20, rather pricey, and I'd rather buy organic seed.

I really want to grow my own lamb's lettuce (aka cornsalad or mache) and watercress. We've become completely addicted to the stuff, and it is very hard to find and very expensive. I've also been reading lots on growing sprouts. Not only are sprouts incredibly good for you, there is a huge variety of things you can grow this way. You don't even need anything as fancy as the Aero garden to do it. Sunlight is not required until a sprout turns into a seedling and develops leaves, requiring photosynthesis. I have even located varieties of mache and water cress that are ideal for growing indoors, in trays, no dirt required. Visit the Sprout People to learn more about the world of sprouts. They have information and reviews on all kinds of sprouting equipment, from a tiny mini sprout garden, to large trays and blanket type planting medium for soil-less gardening at home.

Bird Nest Socks

Meanwhile, I'm still knitting. The Nest socks are finished. And the pair made with Kaffee Fassett sock yarn. I'm calling these the Nim's Island socks. They are all about warm south pacific waters and islands filled with coconut palms. I highly recommend the children's book by Wendy Orr and the new film too. Very cute. I'd love to live like Nim, but I would like more than a hut with a dirt floor.

The Nim's Island Socks, Kaffee Fassett by Regia, #4261 Caribbean, size 1 dpn

Lavender Blue Dilly Dilly Socks, Regia Cotton, #4177, size 1 DPN.

The latest socks off the needles are a pair of lavender and blue stripes. This is my first try using a cotton blend instead of wool. It is deliciously soft and I can already tell my toes are going to be very happy inside these Lavender Blue Dilly Dilly socks. I've just purchaced two more sock pattern books, so my mind has now been completely and utterly eaten up by this addictive disease. I have managed to only buy one skein of new sock yarn though, so the stash has decreased considerably, so that's got to be a good thing. I can do a pair in a week now, so this should keep the balance tipped to the liquidation side.

I have managed to put the needles down long enough to do some sewing--pictures to follow shortly. I'm also stocking up on books for summer reading. Soon enough the days will be hot, the courtyard will be filled with flowers and there will be time to be lazy and enjoy the sun. For now I must be content with my hydroponic herbs and the promise of things to come.

-Tigerlily

Knitting Socks or Learning to live with Addiction

The Purple Stocking by James Jebusa Shannon

"There may be a metaphor in creating something for the feet that in turn inspires all kinds of mind wanderings, or it may be that the Zen 'beginner's mind' works perfectly with socks so that I am just there, observing and seeing what occurs. For every time I do knit socks, some new pattern of thought emerges."

~ Jane Brocket, The Gentle Art of Domesticity 2007

As a knitter, I had never quite been able to grasp the attraction of knitting socks. There are knitters on the internet who devote entire blogs just to the knitting of socks. For the life of me I just couldn't justify all that work, and expense, (most sock yarn is $15 a skein which equals one pair) when you could just go out and buy them in bulk. And four needles? All tiny, and double pointed, and no matter how I tried I couldn't seem to get the hang of using them, and what about this fifth needle that came in the pack, what was it for? Loss prevention? Lacy socks, cabled socks, socks with incredible designs. Why? I figured they were all nuts and swore I'd never do it. I resolutely refused to give in to the lunacy that was sock knitting.

And then a good friend wanted help with her knitting. I helped her get back on track, and she was soon able to complete several stagnating projects and some new ones as well. But, I kept avoiding that pair of half finished socks languishing in her basket. More than anything, she really wanted to knit socks. It came down to a choice of upholding my principals and the all-mighty dollar. She was eager to learn to knit, and I had the ability to teach. Avarice won out. On the sly I began to examine socks and sock patterns. I shyly asked for help from one of those "crazy sock knitters." I was welcomed with open arms into the fold. With the click of a mouse button I purchased and downloaded a highly recommended beginners sock pattern and my first ball of sock yarn.

Sweet Tart Socks, Lana Grossa Meilenweit Fantasy #4833, US size 0 dpn

As I cast on that fateful first sock I kept telling myself I would not succumb. I was doing this for educational purposes only. Turns out that's like saying you only use alcohol medicinally. Half way through that first sock I had to admit it was rather fun. Turning the heel was downright euphoric. After picking up and knitting the gusset I was hooked. The second sock and then the second pair were cast on without a second thought.

Juicy Citrus Socks, Trekking XXL #158, US size 0 dpn









Elliot loves them too

My complete fall from grace came when I uncovered the dirty little secret of the sock knitting world. Self-patterning yarns. Those socks of intricate designs and multitudes of color I'd been admiring were fake. They were not painstakingly knit in a minute fair isle design, the yarn did it all by itself! Color after luscious color rolls off the ball as you knit. Every row brings new designs; new color combinations. What rapture. What wild abandon. I couldn't stop. Just one more row. Just one more color. What entrancing design will happen next? I've never been a knitter so attached to my work that I carry it with me. Now I carried it everywhere. I couldn't bare to be separated from it. Those four little needles became natural appendages. All my other knitting had been cast aside in favor of socks.

The Frozen North socks, Opal "Berries" #195, US size 0 dpn

The hypnotic rhythm of that endless spiral round and round. Complete peace and relaxation of the mind. Is this ZEN? The mind travels to exotic lands where the air smells of spices, or a damp sandy beach where rollers break at my feet. Sock knitting also allows me to indulge in my favorite hobby, watching films. It also keeps me from eating, because I can't let go of the needles long enough to put anything in my mouth.

Balls of sock yarn began to arrive in the mail and my knitting basket began to bulge alarmingly. Trekking XXL, Meleinweit Fantasy, Kaffe Fasset, Socks That Rock, Opal, Lana Grossa. Brown paper wrappers covered in German. I ordered yarn from the UK and even France. The family was beginning to ask questions. I started stashing the boxes of yarn and opening them in secret.

the sock stash

"Sock yarn may be the knitter's version of methadone. It's what you buy when you don't really want to buy a lot of yarn, or when you just need to take the edge off. It's dangerous, easy, and comes in irresistible self-patterning varieties that make you feel clever."-Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, Knitting Rules, 2006


I reluctantly began to admit to myself that I had a problem. Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. I had become what I had once abhorred. A SOCK KNITTER. The real problem was, I didn't want a cure, I didn't want to stop. So, like any junkie, I did exactly what my dealer had done for me. I hooked another innocent.

I drew Beth in with my tantalizing descriptions of the thrill of heel turning. The orgasmic rush as the colors ran through your fingers and twisted themselves into kaleidoscopes of color before your eyes. As bait I bought her first pair of sock needles and a ball of yarn. I gently lay the Doctors Without Borders sock yarn from The Unique Sheep in her lap, and then I set the hook. "Fifty percent of your purchase goes to Doctors Without Borders", I mewed innocently. I used her free trade tree hugging environmental activism against her. Elisabeth received gift cards for yarn as birthday gifts (my suggestion, of course) She spent every dime on sock yarn.


Beth's Frank Miller socks, The Unique Sheep Verve-Doctors Without Borders, US size 1 dpn



Beth's Greek Socks in progress















Yesterday, Elisabeth showed me the new sock yarn that had just come in at One Planet Yarn..."it comes from a small family run farm, lovely happy sheep, everything is organic...don't the colors look just like hibiscus flowers?"

Knitting socks is like crack cocaine. One hit and your hooked.

On the needles: Bird Nest socks (the yarn reminds me of pale blue eggs and twiggy nests), Trekking XXL #82, US size 0 dpn

"Socks are a miracle of engineering. When you knit a sock, you're doing it the same way it has always been done. You're connected with knitters over the last 700 years, all making socks and watching them wear out."

-Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, Knitting Rules 2006

-Tigerlily