A long, long time ago, I cast on this sock. It flew across the Atlantic with me to Europe last summer, had it’s photo taken in Amsterdam, Barcelona, and Venice. When I got back to the states, all I had to do to finish was to knit the orange at the top of the cuff. Trouble was, I couldn’t find the orange yarn. Anywhere. I’m still convinced it got left somewhere on the trip.
Months later, I finally ordered a new ball, this is Knitpicks Essential sock yarn, btw, in Grass and Pumpkin.
But still, I don’t finish the sock, so it gets hibernated in the stash somewhere. Fast forward months and month later, like, 4 or 5 days ago, I go stash diving for yarn for this, and unearth The Sock. What the hell, I’m almost halfway to a new pair of socks, so I bring it out, find the orange ball, and take stock of what I’ve done, try it on, and It feels a bit big. Count stitches. 68st. 68st? 68st?!!?
Now really, I don’t ever need more than 56-60st for my foot, a women’s 7.5, so I concluded I must have been drunk when I worked that number out way, way, over a year ago. As I’m deciding whether or not to rip the whole stinking thing out and be done with it (in disgust), it occurs to me that this too big for me sock might be a perfect fit on someone else.
The second that thought occurs, I run over to Brandt, assault his foot, and yep, we have perfect width, with a little lengthening of the foot, we’ll have a perfect fit. So how about that, I’m halfway to having a pair of man socks, the first pair for him too, when we didn’t even know each other when I cast them on? Like Cinderella, uh, some kind of manly version though.