Authors: Stephanie Pearl–McPhee
In the spots where I change needles, there's a loose line of stitches. What is that and how do I make it go away?
If you want to look slick in a sock-knitting circle then you call those
ladders
. There's a bunch of ways to make them go away, all of which are hotly contested.
⢠Tug firmly on the first stitch of every needle to tighten up that little gap.
⢠Work on circulars so you don't have needles to gap between.
⢠Try knitting with a set of five needles instead of four (two for the top stitches, two for the bottom). This sets the stitches in a square instead of a triangle and there's a greater angle between stitches, which seems to help some knitters avoid ladders.
⢠Wind the yarn in the opposite direction when knitting the first stitch on the needle (that is, clockwise instead of counterclockwise). This makes a knit stitch that sits sort of twisted on the needle, but like all twisted stitches, it's tighter than its buddies. When you come back to this stitch on the next round, insert your needle into the front of the stitch to untwist it, then wrap the yarn around clockwise to twist the one you're making. With practice, you'll do this automatically, though for the first several months it can drive you batty.
⢠Work a lace pattern, so you can't see the stupid ladders.
Skeins of sock yarn are small enough that many hundreds may be squirreled away in your home without revealing the true scope of your addiction. Look for discreet, infrequently visited locations ⦠the pockets of luggage, tucked inside a gravy boat, behind books on bookshelves, or in the extra space in the corners of the guest-room pillowcases.
Recently, a friend was going through a difficult time. It was an ugly divorce, he missed his children, and nothing seemed to lighten him. In desperation, I mailed him a pattern for kilt hose, old-fashioned steel needles and some good sock-weight wool. He was stunned. He didn't know how to knit, and here I was suggesting that he go from absolute non-knitter status to full-blown, fine-gauge, men's socks. He thought I was nuts, but agreed to try.
The stuff arrived at his house in the morning and that entire afternoon went down the drain as he sat down and taught himself to cast on. By dinnertime, he was knitting. I don't think I could say he was knitting well, and I don't think he liked me very much that day, but he was knitting. Probably the sanity of both of us was in doubt.
Meanwhile, I was sure knitting would help him. I really thought having small successes every day, things he was in charge of â even though they were only stitches â could help. I thought his ego could use an opportunity to be productive in a way he could see, and that he needed a chance to make mistakes without dire consequences. I believed, and he must have believed too or he wouldn't have spent umpteen hours humoring the crazy knitting lady, that this could help him feel better.
It's way too soon to tell if knitting kilt hose was a good idea or just a stupid missionary move on my part. I tell you this, though; I bet you're wondering right now if it worked, and that means something. That means you think sock knitting
could
change someone's path and make him feel better. That means you think knitting socks matters ⦠despite how dumb it seems to try it.
Ten Reasons Not to Knit Socks
Ordinarily I'd never write a list like this, but there are problems with socks, and it's only fair that you know this up front so you walk in (ha!) with your eyes wide open
.
Sock knitting may be addictive.
Knitting socks can lead to an obsession with any form of footwear. It may be a gateway to other uncontrollable knitting, like slippers and, in the very vulnerable, men's knee-high kilt hose.
Once you knit a pair for someone, there is a 96 percent probability that you will be not only asked but continuously implored as well, to provide him with a lifetime of hand-knit socks. If this person is young, this could be a lot of socks.
Sock yarn is a mysterious animal. For reasons that I can't explain, very few knitters count it as actual “stash.” A few balls here, a few balls there, and the next thing you know, you're thinking about having the kids keep their clothes in the garage to give you more yarn space.
Sock yarn is inexpensive enough that the problem of reason 4 is not curbed by a decrease in income.
There are two socks in a pair. This means that after you have knit one sock (forgive me for being obvious), you must knit another one, and it has to be exactly the same. If you're an easily bored knitter, it could be that you're going to wear a lot of mismatched socks from now on.
Sock needles are sharp. Untidy knitters who leave their knitting lying around would do well to note that a puncture wound arising from a sock-knitting “incident” (and don't pretend that you're above it) requires a tetanus shot. (I advise getting one just in case when you take up with socks. Saves time.)
Once you knit socks, you'll have to deal with a lifetime of explaining to people why you bother. They'll point out that socks from the store are two bucks a pair and you'll counterargue with a gift of a hand-knit pair of socks to help them understand. (See reason 3 for the problem that exists beyond this bugging the daylights out of you.)
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.
There are so many kinds of socks that no matter what you're thinking now, once you start, you'll never be able to stop.