The events of the last few weeks have led me to believe that our family has been specially selected for an experiment in stress. On top of the strains that we’ve come to think of as normal since Christmas, in the last week or two we’ve had one extended family member have major surgery, me away for sock camp, been invaded by cluster flies, had an extended family member have a run in with a table saw that resulted in a pretty horrific accident, (They’re more or less okay now- though minus a couple of bits.) then the spouse of that person had their mother die. (She was old, the circle of life stuff is easier to take, but still falls into the category of "really big deal".) Then the family member who had the surgery and was recovering nicely suffered a near fatal pulmonary embolism and scared the snot out of all of us.
My reaction to this has been to go where I am told, do as it is suggested would be helpful and to… um. Knit socks.
(Yarn: JL Vinca colour 551. Very economical, but I can’t speak to how long it will last. It’s 25% nylon, but rather loosely spun with the occasional slub. Time will tell. Sure is pretty)
Plain vanilla socks, churned out while waiting, while travelling to the funeral, while navigating phone calls…
In all of that though, through all of those really unlikely events occurring in a very unlikely manner, all twisted up together – the unlikeliest of all, was this.
My sister Erin learned to knit. On these socks, in the back of the car on the way to the funeral. Six of these rounds belong to her. (Thanks to my brother Ian for the picture.)
Further to that, she liked it enough to ask for another go later.
And even looked like she enjoyed it. She’s pretty good at it too.
Feel that cool breeze? Someone check the thermostat in Hades, will ya?