Lost Arts studio

A lot of the fiber arts I enjoy are things like tatting, netmaking, chair caning, and even weaving, where people will come up to me when I demonstrate and solemnly tell me, "That's a lost art."

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Location: SW Outer Nowhere, Michigan, United States

On the Internet, nobody knows you're a chicken. (With apologies to Peter Steiner.)

04 March 2006

Sock Report

I washed the socks (Two Socks at Once) Friday and wore them all day today. Verdict: what do you know, despite their unorthodox origins, they feel like real socks! They are a little loose around the ball of the foot (probably from the looseness of the double knitting), a problem I never have in boughten socks, but because the heel is fitted, that doesn't bother me. In fact, for the first time I have a pair of socks where the heel is actually just a smidge too deep, something I've never experienced in my whole socky life!

They feel strange at the back of the ankle. This might be the combination of the ribbing and the fitted heel. They kind of grip on either side of the back part of my heel. This is hard to describe. It almost feels like wearing a shoe, or like someone has reached out and grabbed me by the heel. It's not uncomfortable, just weird.

And satisfyingly, they don't pull down in back at all. I've spent decades pulling up my socks, and handknit ones are so nice this way. They just stay up and stay up and stay up.

Someone I used to work with once said that when something really fits, you shouldn't notice it at all. You shouldn't even notice that it's there. (She was talking about office chairs, but the principle applies.) And even though I was trying to notice how the socks fit, so I would have something to say in this post, most of the time I wasn't aware of them. Didn't notice them at all.


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