I can smell stuff again! That was a very weird experience.

(Dorothy’s comment on yesterday’s sickie post makes me want to flap my hands and say “Eeeeeee!”)

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The lion’s share of my precious few waking hours today were spent at the Seattle Knitting Expo instead of actually knitting. Compared to the one in Tacoma recently, it seemed that this one had more vendors, and more handmade, handspun, and hand-dyed yarn. This pleased me greatly.

I bought two skeins of yarn, both of such astonishing beauty that to take their picture in artificial lighting would be criminal. But since I came home and fell straight into a four-hour nap (at what point does a “nap” become just plain “sleeping”?) I missed all the daylight.

Skein #1 is lightweight Socks That Rock from Blue Moon Fiber Arts in the Algae colorway. I understand that “algae” may not be the most wholesome name, but trust me when I tell you that it is dyed in a magnificent collection of blues and greens.

Blue Moon is a bit of a puzzle to me. From what I gather, they started out selling their yarn exclusively at trade shows, then branched out to limited internet sales. While chatting with the lovely booth ladies, I also learned that they try to choose yarn to take to shows that is not available on their website.

What this means is that if you have the chance, check out the yarn marketplace at every expo near you, because Blue Moon might be there, and you can buy the yarn for much less than ordering off the website (no handling fees). You must do this, because no matter how much you love the yarns for sale on their site, their booth will have more, better, different colorways which you have not yet seen, in a variety of weights (including dyed wool stuff you can spin up yourself). Seriously, go there.

The second skein is 650 yards of superwash merino three-ply sock yarn by Pat Fly of Angora Valley Fibers in Citrus. (Scroll down to see the pic – ooh, out of stock, but they did have two skeins left as of Saturday afternoon – HURRY!)

Angora Valley Fibers is based in Tenino, Washington. When I noted the URL on the band and asked if you can order the yarn off their site, I was all ready for them to say “Not at the moment…” and then I would berate them for being FOOLS, because this yarn is GREAT, and EVERYBODY SHOULD HAVE SOME. But she said “Yep, and free shipping.” That kind of stole my thunder, but you should totally go order some of the three-ply awesomeness.

The Angora Valley booth also featured an antique sock-knitting machine, which was a little bit like a sausage grinder, except that socks come out, and also when you turn the crank, all kinds of delicate little wire fingers do amazing things which are insanely entertaining to watch. It made me feel a little like Internet Explorer. (Wheeeeee!)

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On the viral front, I’m feeling overall a lot better, but I think I have a sinus infection, and also I have completely lost my sense of smell. (This is more than a little alarming, I can assure you.)

In the last 24 hours, I have put my nose perilously close to the following substances and inhaled deeply, but failed to detect the smell of: Arctic Blast Listerine, Mentho-Lyptus lozenges (plain flavor), tea tree essential oil, barbecue sauce, Dawn dishwashing liquid, ground coffee, brewed coffee, cat food, Kirkland brand shampoo, Kirkland brand conditioner, Ivory soap, dijon mustard, tropical fish food flakes, toothpaste, Sea Breeze facial cleanser, and probably a whole host of other things I’m forgetting.

However, this afternoon I did sniff deeply of a lavender sachet at the yarn expo, and definitely smelled lavender. Just a little bit, and only on the far left side, but it’s a good sign that it’s only a temporary problem. I’m keeping my fingers crossed on this one, because people do permanently lose their sense of smell after a viral infection (Anosmia), and I really like smelling things. I sniff things all the time (I am only partially aware of this habit on a conscious level).

I’m staying home again tonight, and taking: vitamin C, zinc, herbal tea, sinus decongestant, chicken soup, Advil, yogurt and fresh fruit, saline nasal spray, steam baths, and anything else I can think of.

I am, in short, doing everything except the one thing that everyone says will work: the neti pot. I can assure you that if you want me to use a neti pot, the following will be true:

1. There will be a struggle.
2. I will have to be forcibly restrained.
3. There will be much wailing and crying, not all of it mine.

I’ve heard good things about the neti pot. And I’m sure they’re all true. I really am. I’m not saying that it doesn’t work. I’m just saying get that thing the @#$% away from me!

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Regarding the message on the Opal ball band, Pasticcio commented I think the label says something about you having their high sympathies if you wash that yarn in the machine at night.

The scary thing is, that’s exactly what I thought when I read the band out loud. If we choose “translation by consensus,” then this must actually be what it says. (Also, something about a Washing Machine Fest, which doesn’t sound very festive.)

The first thing I did was swatch. I have to admit, casting the wee tiny little yarn onto the wee tiny little needles was a little daunting. As I knit the first row of the swatch, I experienced the all-too-familiar feeling that I actually have giant paws instead of hands. “This is why I’m not a surgeon,” I thought.

While the swatch dried, I undertook the task of measuring my own legs. I sat down on the floor with a tape measure, and attempted to find “the end of the calf muscle,” which is where the ideal sock starts. Ha. This is like trying to find the shoulder blade on a seal. (It’s in there, I checked.) My calves aren’t shapely, they’re just plain fat.

I finally decided on a likely spot, and marked it with a pen, so I wouldn’t lose my place. (I know – it’s a wonder I’m still single!) While I was there, I snapped a picture so you can see what I mean about the cheap Costco socks.

The two arrows point to the spots, low and high, where the two types of socks I wear tend to bind my calves. When this picture was taken, I hadn’t worn the tall socks in four days, and I hadn’t worn the short socks since the night before. So the dents are semi-permanent. I’ll spare you pictures of the burst capillaries; even I have my gross-out limits. (But you can see some others in the picture, because my skin has no pigment whatsoever.)

Next: math. At the marker point, my calf is 14.5 inches around. 3.5 inches down to the ankle area, the narrowest part, which is 11 inches around. (This means I’ll have to decrease by 3.5 inches around over 3.5 inches of knitting down.) My foot itself is 10 inches long, and the ball of my foot is 10 inches around. (This refutes the claim of some people that I have “square feet,” but not by much…)

The swatch of owl yarn knits up (for me) at 6 stitches to the inch “slightly stretched” on 2.75 mm needles. (The gauge didn’t change on washing.) So knitting from the top down, I have to start by casting on 87 stitches. Make that 88, because I like even numbers better.

At 8 rows to the inch, I have to decrease down to 66 stitches over 28 rows, which means I have to lose a little bit less than one stitch per row. (I’ll start by working an inch of ribbing without decreases, then decrease one stitch per row, just to make life easier.)

After knitting for several hours, I realize that the swatch is wrong. Turns out, I knit a bit more tightly on the DPNs (can’t imagine why). I’m getting 7 stitches to the inch “slightly stretched.” I also forgot to factor in negative ease, so that the socks stay on.

Some quick work with the calculator shows that miraculously, the tighter gauge and the need to make the socks smaller balance out to almost the same exact numbers. As it happens, my incompetence is my salvation.

I knit and knit and knit and knit. I knit until my coffee table looks like this:

I knit until I get cranky with the cats, who stalk off to sulk in the corners. (They want very badly to sprawl on my lap and bite the DPNs.) I sigh, and take an apologetic play break with their favorite toy (one of those feathers-on-a-string-on-a-stick deals).

I knit and knit and knit and knit.

I stagger off to bed for a much-needed three-hour nap.

I wake up, make coffee, and knit and knit and knit. I knit, all told, through five episodes of Battlestar Galactica, “The Basketball Diaries,” three episodes of the Simpsons, two episodes of King of the Hill, two episodes of Malcolm in the Middle (sandwiched between the cartoons), and an episode of M.A.S.H. because I couldn’t find the remote, and I was too tired to get up off the couch. (Normal rules of not watching television are suspended during times of illness.)

Finally, as M.A.S.H. (possibly one of my least favorite sitcoms of all time) segue’s into the Geraldo Rivera show, I realize that I have had enough. Enough knitting, enough bad television, enough being awake for one day.

I give you: one day’s progress on Owlsock 1.

The picture is actually pretty true to the colors. I think it really does look rather like owls. (P.S. See those three funny white lines in the lower right-hand corner of the picture? Cat whiskers, popping to attention as the sock is brandished for picture time.)

I have to go to bed now.

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This little fella arrived in the mail yesterday. I’m forcing myself to spend today at home – the entire day – because I really need to get well. (I’m terrible at being sick – I simply have no patience for it.) Devoting an entire day to this First Sock Project is my compensation.

The label advises (or perhaps warns against) “Waschmaschinenfest 40 heiß waschbar weich und saugfähig nicht filzend nicht einlauvend äußerst ergiebig hautsympatisch.”

I’ll keep that in mind.

I bought this from eBay seller babsbiz – it arrived within two days (from California to Seattle), great price, and (as you can see) nicely packaged in a Ziplock-style bag.

In other news, it turns out that I can make up fake German words all day long. This should come in handy while using die zockenyarnnen for knitting der owlzenzockkenz.

A few days ago, Carrie commented on my “what knitting will be like after the Cylons attack” post, I think we could recycle old sweaters, I mean, that’s what they did in the old days. We could make our own needles out of different materials. We will survive. Ever since she said that, I’ve had this vision in my head of a chain of knitters wandering around, each knitting a sweater for the person behind them, out of the unravelling sweater of the person in front of them. ‘Tis a strange vision, indeed!

Dorothy asked if I would be knitting toe-up or top-down. Never having knit socks before, I think I’ll try one of each and see which I like best. I like the idea of knitting toe-up, because you can try on the sock as you knit. But Yarn Harlot’s latest book has a big long chapter on instructions for knitting top-down. Since I happen to have the book handy, I’ll start there, then use Wendy’s generic toe-up sock recipe for the other.

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