I've had a wee bit of depression since I was killed in the Sock Wars on Saturday. I was killed by very nice pink socks, however, and I am released from having to knit that pattern again, so I shall not be bitter. Twas a good day to die. Will post a pic soon. I'm just too tired tonight.
Some musings on sock wars, though. I really enjoyed the idea of the Sock Wars. I found it to be remarkable that after I killed my target in Philadelphia, her target in the UK mailed her socks in progress to Philadelphia and then mailed them to me in Connecticut. Then, matching the gauge perfectly, if I do say so myself, I managed to duplicate the first sock and then off to the new target in Baltimore they went (the original target deserted in Canada).
And regarding gauge, I think I have complained perhaps once or twice how much I hate dealing with gauge, trying to get gauge, did I get gauge, I thought I got gauge, but no, no damn gauge. Oh, wait, I got stitches but not rows. Bottom line, I get it now. Because I got gauge, I could duplicate the sock that someone else, an ocean away had knit. And though they were originally for someone with size 9 feet, they were stretchy enough to fit the lovely size 11 where they ended their journey. I will no longer scoff at gauge, because gauge has become my friend. I understand now why I must. And just for a moment, during the beginning of each project, I will pretend I am a process knitter.