My knitting over the weekend was devoted to working on Hubby's socks. After finishing the first one I'm motivated to get the pair done.
The problem is my conflicted relationship with self patterning sock yarn.
(I don't have an updated picture because the camera is being very uncooperative and refusing to do its job!)
I love these yarns because they do all the work for you. You can just sit there and knit mindless, relaxing stockinette stitch but you'll end up with really attractive socks in the end.
I hate these yarns because I have to make the patterns match. Now, maybe it's not fair of me to blame the yarn for my own neurotic impulses, but really, the yarn started it.
In my defense, I'd like to point out that Hubby also wants the pattern to match.
On one of the early pairs of socks I made him I asked if he wanted it to match.
His reaction was something along these lines, "Of course they have to match. Are you out of your ever loving mind, woman?!"
Apparently, I am.
Because I have to try to make them match as closely as possible.
I thought it would be sooo easy on these socks.
They started solidly in the brownish part and had just barely turned to the dark rose color at the end of the 15 rows of ribbing.
I took four tries to get them to match.
The first time just let me orient myself to the pattern.
The second time the rose came in a couple rows too late.
The third time it came in a couple rows to early.
When I was starting to cast on the fourth time I said to myself, "Are you out of your ever loving mind, woman?"
Because by then I'd knit (and ripped out) 45 rows of knitting. The leg of the sock is only 76 rows total. I had knit (and ripped out) over half the leg already.
And so I let it go. I decided the last attempt was close enough. The only living thing who should be close enough to Hubby's socks to see they don't match should be Samson (because he has a foot fetish). Well, unless the toes don't match.
Anyway. I'm back up to row 41 on the leg. Moving right along.
Now I just have to maintain my focus.