All Hail Sock Summit!

On the off chance that anyone who has heard of knitting does not yet know about the power and glory that is Sock Summit, allow me to fill you in:

Once Upon A Time, two clever and persistent High Priestesses of Hosiery called Tina and Stephanie, hatched a Cunning Plan.  Overcoming staggering obstacles, they organized a festival - nay - a cabal, of the learned and the learn-ees, the interested and the interesting, all centered around the celebration and the love of the sock.  And lo, the knitters came, and they saw, and called it "Good".

Actually, I was there, and what the knitters really called it was "Ass-Kickin!"  "Big Fun", and "Transformative", among other things.

And though I have to keep pinching myself to believe it, I'm going to be there again this time, not only as a participant, but as a Teacher.  That's right.  I'm gonna be in the same building as the Notable Knitteratti, breathing the same air, and sometimes even in the very same room. 

In celebration of Sock Summit Registration today, I thought I'd share a little about what I'm planning for my students.  Take a gander below, won't you, and see if you'd like join me?

Mary's Sock Summit Offering #1:  "Stranded In Your Socks"

At the end of 2010, I was blessed and lucky enough to have been selected to create the very first stranded colorwork design for Blue Moon Fiber Arts.  The process of creating that design (shown above) taught me oodles about knitted colorwork that is destined for feet.  So much, that I thought it would be fun to share it with other sock knitters, who may or may not have worked socks that use two strands before.  In this class, we will explore what it's like to handle two balls of yarn at the same time, and then apply those skills to sock knitting, using (what else?) an official Mary Scott Huff Sock Summit stranded colorwork chart!  The design is TOP SECRET, natch, but trust me when I say you will love it, and this class is the only place to get it!  Gigantic. Fun.  And to those who harbor doubt, I make this solemn pledge:  No scary homework is required, and no one is going to make you cut your knitting open with scissors.  Yet.

Mary's Sock Summit Offering #2:  "Kilt By Association"

Admit it:  Everybody loves a fella in a kilt.  Highland Games, Prince Charles on honeymoon with Princess Diana at Balmoral (pre-Camilla, pre-hair loss), heck, even Mike Meyers playing his own father; All have a compelling draw.  It's something about a guy in uniform.  Or if my brothers are to be believed, "It's the knees.  Lasses love the knees".  From pipe bands to Utili-Kilts, they all have one thing in common:  Kilt Hose.  Without them, a lad is in danger of blisters and sunburns at best, and wounding ridicule at worst.  Part history, part highland dress overview, and part knitting class, Kilt By Association is all you ever wanted to know about exploring what's under there, but were afraid to ask.  And if all that weren't enough fun, the lovely and talented wee beasties over at Abstract Fiber allowed themselves to be tricked were kind enough to create an outstanding skein of yarn for our class sample, and you can have it too!  Go HERE, and order up a special "kilt skein" (that's a whopping 800 or so yards) of -sitting down? - CASHMERE BLEND "Temptation" yarn.  I can't stand how beautiful this yarn is.  If you ever thought of wearing a kilt (Lassies, too - this is America, after all), this yarn will convince you to take the leap.  Come on over to my tartan lounge for all the dirt.  Everyone is Scottish once they can knit kilt hose.  Ask any piper who's tried begging his granny back home for a handknit pair.  Kilt hose are arguably the most special and rare handknit socks of all.  Oh, and you'll also leave class with a Limited Edition pattern, plus all the smarts you need to customize it for your favorite Brave Heart.

So that's the inside scoop.  Let's face it:  You weren't doing anything better than this, the whole month of July.  Come on over to my hometown of Portland, Oregon, and I promise that we know how to show a knitter a really good time.
 

It's All in the Pacing

I nearly stepped on this little guy this morning on the way to the car.  The routine at my sister's house is different to the one I have at home, but strangely familiar.  In the mornings I drive Susie to the ferry instead of letting her walk.  It gives us 10 minutes together to compare notes each morning: 5 while we pour the coffee into travel mugs, and 5 in the car on the way to the boat.  So even though I'm still rushing around in the mornings, its a different kind of rush. 

Returning home, I saw that Gary (not his actual name) had slimed himself 2 whole tulips farther along the driveway than where I'd left him.  And it occurred to me that this small creature, house on back, snail-trail distribution system engaged, had his own morning commute to contend with.  For all I know, he has to be all the way to the mailbox by nine, or all the good bugs will be taken, and then it's nothing but work work work to find something for the little snail-lets to eat for lunch.  And of course, there's the talking to he'll get from Mrs. Gary:  "How hard can it BE, for pity sake?  I bust my shell around here all day to make a nice snail pit (nest? lair?) for you and the little ones, and all I ask is that you get out there and come home with a few lousy grubs, for crying out loud..."  Poor Gary.  And to think he almost never made it to the mailbox at all.  One inch closer and I'd have smashed him into an even slimier mess than he already is.  Funny he didn't stop to thank me, even when I came back to take his picture.

My mom's pace is different, too.  She has this four-wheel drive, walky-wheely thing that she shoves along in front of her as she goes now.  Her cane was no longer helping her as much as she needed, so on doctor's orders (A phrase she LOVES hearing me repeat, by the way), she now has Scooty.  I named her walky thing that in a feeble attempt to help her make friends with it.  Scooty is sometimes her friend (in that she has not fallen down lately), but mostly a pain in her ass.  Mom is not taking lightly to her new, more reserved land speed.  And I feel for her.  Once, while she was napping, I took Scooty out for a spin myself, hoping to better understand what it's like for her now.  I walked at the same speed I've seen her do.  I lifted each foot the same half-inch off the ground that she does.  I sat down and tried to use Scooty to pull myself up, using only the strength in my legs. 

And it Sucked.  All of it.  And it made me mad.  And I silently promised Mom not to use the phrase "Doctor's Orders" anymore.

So Gary, baby, I feel your pain.  Sometimes the destination IS the issue, not the sightseeing along the way.  Here's to all God's creatures getting where we need to, in the time we have to do it.

Godspeed, Gary.

 

No Man is an Island

But some knitters are.  Here at my sister's house, I'm surrounded by Muggles, Mortals, and Misfits:  Not a knitter in the bunch, save yours truly.

The other night I finished a mitten and held it up with pride for those assembled to admire.  I knew better than to do this, but just like a dog turning around three times before laying down, it is flatly impossible for me to finish a knitted item and not hold it up to show those around me "Lookit what I made!".  Postal employees, the gang in line at the pharmacy, and even gas station attendants have been witness to this behavior from me.  And they all manage to say something nice, even if it's because they're afraid of provoking the weirdo with the pointy needles in her fists.

Not so, my family.

My nephew Adam said the mitten looked like a barbecue oven mitt.

My sister Susan, assuming the object she had just stuffed her hand into was some sort of sub-par hand puppet, suggested that Googly-Eyes might help its looks.

My niece Sarah at least liked the color, which was welcome enthusiasm, but had to recommend that more fingers be added, since she was very sure that gloves always have separate compartments for each digit.  I explained that it was a mitten, and as such, has only one separate compartment, for the thumb, so all the others are forced to share.  I should have anticipated her response:

"So how can you knit with these on?"

God I miss Knit Nite.