Socks for the Man Who Wants Nothing
My Dad has a bit of Ebeneezer Scrooge in him—when it comes
to the holidays, he doesn't understand what the fuss is all about. In the Christmas Carol cast, I'm more like the nephew
Fred: "I'll keep my Christmas humour to
Well, even Scrooge
needs warm feet. I first learned to knit socks when my Dad requested a pair for
Christmas about ten years ago. In Scrooge fashion, he promptly (and
unrepentantly) felted the alpaca/silk blend socks. The next year I learned to
spend a little less on the yarn, but he felted them again. (How I managed so
many years without learning about superwash yarn I'm not sure.)
Over the years I've
knitted him about 6 pairs, with breaks for a scarf and a hat. There was the
red-and-black pair that took years to finish, the gray pair that was eventually
thrown in the trash mid-leg because I couldn't get along with the yarn, the
pairs I had to rip back because it's hard to judge size when the feet aren't
handy, and a few pairs that came out just
right and eventually came back for darning.
| An ill-fated pair of Christmas socks
||Better luck with this pair of Two-Yarn Resoleable Socks (from Favorite Socks)
The Best Intentions
This year I've
started a new pair of socks for Dad, the Semaphore Socks from the Fall 2012
issue of Sockupied. The
textured-stitch cuff is interesting, the ribbed foot will hug his arch, and
he'll be tickled at the fact that they're completely reversible.
Dad likes plain
black or gray socks, so my exciting and colorful sock-yarn stash is off-limits.
Still, he likes a kick of color here and there, so the toes and heels will be
Alas, here's what my Dad received last night on Christmas Eve. He's
gotten such presents before, and a pair of socks usually materializes at the
end. Sometimes even before next Christmas!
Whatever you celebrate, enjoy the lengthening days (all the better to see your knitting) and have a happy New Year. I resolve nothing except to have fun knitting.