Sock It To Me

As much as I'd like to think the Chickenheads couldn't possibly exist without me, they can - though I like to think it's not quite as much fun.

For the past three weeks I've been down and out, having had some major orthopedic surgery at the end of March. For the first week I was in the hospital, then 30 miles away at my mom's while I recovered. After two weeks I had a clear enough head to cast on my recovery blanket project, but quickly got stuck. Normally, getting stuck is no biggie since you can always wait til the following Tuesday night when one of the Chicks will help you. But my isolated situation made it more like a concrete-walled dead end. So I put the knitting aside and focused on my Barack Obama audio book instead (a worthy substitute I must say).

I finally came home last week and last night the Chickenheads were kind enough to relocate knitting night from CertainT's house to mine, relegating my poor boyfriend to the office downstairs in a failed attempt to drown out the bock, bocking.It was wonderful to have the group back together, though I will say I haven't been used to that much chitchat having been in near isolation during most of my recovery. But I suspect I will ease back in to the high energy level of the group as my own energy begins to return.

Clearly, some sort of sock fever has taken over the Chickenheads - a virus I have yet to catch. Rugby is insane about socks. When she is not knitting baby blankets for her pregnant friends, you can guarantee you will find her knitting up another adorable pair of socks. And Bubbles is now equally obsessed - dying her own sock yarn and acquiring sock books like they're going out of style. This is the book they are all obsessed with at the moment, and there are some tempting patterns in it for sure.

But for some reason I can't seem to get excited about knitting socks. I have had a half-knit pair on circulars sitting in my basket for months and I keep avoiding them. This, after an initial sock disaster that left me cursing socks for all eternity, which only inspired Bubbles to buy me some better sock yarn (she insists the yarn is why I had such a hard time) housed in a plastic contraption that keeps the balls of yarn from tangling up while you knit two socks at a time on double circulars.

As touched as I was (am) by Bubbles' fighting spirit, I still feel defeated by them. Perhaps I will change my mind - someday, when I run out of everything else. Or when I see Rugby's next cute pair and finally decide I have to have them for myself.

In the meantime, it's good to be back.
Bock, bock.