I am a rabid knitter. I learned from a fellow librarian when I lived in New Hamsphire over eleven years ago. I started with a scarf (as does pretty much everyone), and tried making many things: a couple of baby sweaters, hats, scarves, even a sweater for myself, but then I knit a pair of socks and I caught the sickness. The sock sickness. The sockness.
I now live in Florida where hand knitted goods are not highly sought-after goods. We wear flip-flops all year here. I usually wear shorts and a T-shirt on Christmas. We do get some cooler weather in the months of January and February, and that is when we (meaning my husband, parents and I) break out our beautiful, hand-knit socks and wear them every chance we get.
There are many reasons why I must knit all the socks.
Knitting keeps me sane. It is meditative and soothing. Mostly.
As a project, they are totally portable, small enough to fit in a purse. I knit a lot in the car, especially on long road trips where I can see lots of progress. I even knit on airplanes. It’s quite wonderful to plug into an audiobook, get the knitting out, and ignore the fact that I have four square inches of alloted space next to a mouthbreather.
Reason #5: Everyone needs socks
While I live in Florida, most people in the word don’t (although every tourist season that becomes harder and harder to believe). Everyone wears socks pretty much every day, and what is a better, more thoughtful gift than a pair of hand-knit socks? Totallly usable, usually bright and beautiful, and massively comfortable.
KNIT ALL THE SOCKS.