Chapter 12: I am driven to madness

I know I went too far. The finishing of all the projects before the due date, coupled with too much beer and repeated watching of the awesome "unpimp your ride" VW commercials combined synergistically to unbalance my brain, and when it came time to cast back on, suddenly the instruction to "cast on 299 stitches" didn't seem unreasonable to me at all.

But it isn't my fault, (it never is, you will soon come to learn about me) it is Eunny and Monkee's faults. Poor Eunny, she doesn't even know me, but I would swear she timed her awesome lace tutorial just to catch me at my most vulnerable. Just like Lolly got me all excited about socks, Eunny has taken advantage of my impaired state to hook me on lace for good. Even though I am sucking at it at the moment, I am loving it. And Monkee spreading all these great lace vibes around the place. Ladies, the damage is done. Lace is the new sock.

I like to call this "Still life with Birch, HP and Cat Butt"

In continuing sock madness news, however, even as I am inching fearfully forward to casting on the 2 color turkish socks, I must tell you a tale of frustration. A little while ago I saw these socks on Claudia's blog. Candy socks. Delicious. Had to have.

I have learned a lot about the self patterning sock business since this whole thing started. About the evils of limited runs, and the equally nasty ways shops lure you in with promises of wonderful self patterning color ranges only to produce large piles of grey, brown, black, and greybrown yuk they haven't been able to unload over the past humpteen years. In desperation, and in the throes of a creativity streak that had me designing candy purses to go along with my socks, I wrote Claudia asking for help. She was very kind and gracious, especially considering that I must have come across as a complete lunatic, and she shared her source as well as some other places to start my search. Nice lady, talented as all get out, too.

You know how it is once you have your mind set on something. After several attempts to purchase from various online sources only to receive an email of regret followed by removal of the item from their online catalogues, I was on a freaking mission from God to track down the last Trekking XXL Color 126 on this planet. And because when I am on said mission I am as stubborn as a mule on crack, it was inevitable that I triumphed.

Now, I'd like to say that tracking this yarn to a shop in Berlin is not even a little extreme, but I would be lying if I did so. I think I have gone round the bend, twist or any other metaphor I can think of, as long as it means I am completely mental. And I am having a hell of a time denying it. I had to pay for my yarn in freaking Euros. EUROS. But I am happy. Is that wrong?