Our first winter in Maine, I knit Himself a par of wool socks. Heaven only knows what kind of insane Bigfoot pattern I was using, because despite checking the gauge (which I do now, religiously), they turned out huge and largely unwearable. So after 2 years in the back of a closet, I've taken them back, and I'm going to try again.
I'm a more adventurous sock-knitter now, so I'm going hunting for a slightly more ambitious pattern. The unravelling is a pain in the neck -- it took 2 episodes of Mad Men and three of The Office (Thank you, Netflix!) to get sock number one halfway dismantled. So it looks like this isn't going to be a quickie project, but that's OK. It's the journey, not the destination, right?
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