Scrap the Snicket

In addition to working on the mittens I’ve been doing some toe up Snicket socks. I was itching to cast on socks for a simple travel project. I received some wonderful suggestions which filled my Ravelry queue. I choose the snicket pattern because I had recently purchased the recommended yarn. It seemed I was destined to make these socks.

I cast on and realize that the pattern is for cuff down socks. Being that I have the tendency to get over anxious and make things too small, in my rush to hurry-up and begin the next part of the pattern, I don’t think cuff down is a good choice for me. I’ll make too short socks and end up with a lot of left over yarn.

No problem, I’ll just switch to a toe-up construction, the patterning should be the same. Cast on two toes and I’m off. Well not quite, upon further inspection it turns out it’s a 19 row repeat for the pattern and on top of that it’s full of cabling stitches to the front, and then back, in such a way that I can not hope to memorize it. I made it through the first 19 rows on one sock and 5 rows on the other with the pattern in hand and intense concentration the entire time. Then I realized, this isn’t any fun, and it isn’t what I had in mind.

Next I pulled out the 19 rows and pulled out the Encyclopedia of Stitchery for a pretty stitch pattern. I believe that using the magic cast on and short row heels, I don’t need a formal pattern to follow. I’ll just improve my own design and if it looks good I’ll share it. Simple enough.

Ha ha, fooled again! The twisted zigzag pattern I select seems straight forward. 10 rows in I realize that it’s not at all looking like a zigzag, just a mass of purl ridges. Oh wait, I’m knitting in the round. "D'oh!" change those purl rounds to knit rounds! Alas, it’s frogged again.


At least it only noon on a Friday and I have the entirety of the weekend to set these socks right. Also the fact that Sydney Carton just “fed” the guillotine in A Tale of Two Cities has set me off down a teary road for the day. If Dickens is to be believed, then the French Revolution was a fearful time with death lurking around every corner. I had not considered the bloody consequences of this liberation. Perhaps my socks are as doomed as Sydney.