The Sock Must Die . . .

. . . or so my miniature schnauzer seems to think, when possessed by those brief, dizzying moments of canine ferocity which only parents of terriers can truly comprehend. Yesterday, it appeared that such had happened to one of my current socks-in-progress. However, the truth was that I had (carefully) placed the sock in a knitting bag, assuming that it would peacefully coexist with the also-included shrug-in-progress, for our drive off to the countryside. What occurred inside that bag while nobody was looking will forever be a mystery, but let me just say that when you see size 1 dps protruding through the sides of the bag, you know it's not going to be pretty. Two of the dps had completely escaped their stitches. Loops of yarn were everywhere. And if that were not enough, the aforementioned miniature schnauzer dove into the front seat, where I was methodically attempting to sort out the mess, caught a length of yarn around her foot, and with great agility fled to the back seat again, taking the yarn with her.

Now, I am not normally reduced to a blubbering mound of frustration by knitting projects. Okay, well, sometimes, but generally that's just with lace knitting. Socks, I can do without problem. Uncomplicated socks I could probably manage in a persistent vegitative state. This was an uncomplicated sock. So theoretically, it should have been a small problem. However, in a moving VW Beetle (I love my car, by the way - "Eduardo" is a diesel, and I use biodiesel which works great) on Interstate 5 (note to Department of Transportation - this road needs resurfacing) with Miss Pooch jumping from front seat to back, well, let's just say it didn't go so well. By the time we reached Mount Vernon, I decided the best approach would be to stop at Hellen's Needlework to purchase a crochet hook, sit quietly for 10 minutes & attempt to sort out the increasingly worsening mess. I wish I had taken a picture, but by that time logic & reason were long gone, replaced by near-tears & more and more colorful language. I walked in the door at Hellen's, held up the doomed project, and begged Hellen to "KILL IT".

God Bless Hellen. Hellen is the one who, a few years ago when I first decided to get back to knitting, helped me to make sweaters that *actually fit*. She is a down-to-earth, matter-of-fact, no-nonsense kind of person who took one look at that mess, took it out of my hands, and fixed it while confessing to a few moments of frustration with knitting herself. I browsed for a bit, did a little retail therapy, and left a better person, with the sock again intact. I also bought some end caps for dps that have a little elastic connecting them. May this never happen again.