You have GOT to be KIDDING ME!!!

That’s a direct quote, from Mr. Ink this morning.

On our very first date, Mr. Ink said to me “I…am not that into yarn you know.” He’s a man of few words, and he wanted to make it clear that he’d prefer if I didn’t knit for him. Now, he very much appreciates the artistry of my knitting and spinning, and when meeting new people he tends to brag on me about it quite a bit. However, he didn’t want me to knit for him.

Except then, at some point, he said “I’ve been thinking, I might actually like a pair of handknit socks.” And, so for his birthday, in February 2015, I knit him a pair of socks.


And he fell in love. The rest of the cold that year he wore them. And then for the 2015-2016 winter season he wore them so often. If it was cold in the house, that was his go to pair of socks. And then….one went missing in the wash late last winter.

I have torn the house up looking for that stray sock. I mean, you don’t just knit a pair of socks for a man with size 13.5 wide feet and let one of them disappear! I unfolded every sheet in the house hoping it had got caught in a corner. I tipped over the washer and dryer looking under them. I removed everything from the bedroom closet looking for them. I moved the mattress off the bed and searched under every piece of furniture. And I didn’t find that stray sock.

Mr. Ink threatened this summer to throw out the remaining sock and I told him he absolutely COULD NOT. That the sock was bound to turn up somewhere, someday. And, now every time I thought about that sock I imagined it was somewhere in the basement, holes being eaten into it by crickets or something.

I didn’t knit another pair of socks for him. He didn’t ask me to. Until my birthday when he mentioned in front of everyone going through my give away handknit scarf and shawl stash that he’d lost a hand knit sock and he’d sure love to have another.

So, I broke out the wollmeise pure.


And I knit another sock. I want you to understand just how large this sock is. The leg itself is 10.5 inches of sock leg. I spent the entire time being sure that the sock was too large. It was, naturally, just right. It’s SO MUCH knitting for this guy! But he loves them, and so I am knitting them. I cast on the second one this morning.

And then, this morning, I am in another room where I hear “You have GOT to be ¬†KIDDING ME!!!” in this tone that was so frustrated and filled with wonder. I honestly thought that maybe someone had crashed into the front bank and massively screwed up his landscaping, or maybe there was critter in the house, or maybe a large critter had dug holes into the yard.

I go to him, he’s still trying to pull a long sleeve fleece shirt over his head, while yanking the missing sock out of the inside of it.

Missing sock located. All I needed to do was knit a new one.

Actually, I am thrilled to pieces about it. It is so hard to see such a huge time and knitting investment go to waste. And now he’s wandering around the house nice and warm in his wool handknit socks and a fleece shirt, looking pretty smug. And I am looking smug as well!