My Dear Sockpal-
Oh how I wanted to write this letter about 3 days ago. Life can't be planned with a 2 year-old & one on the way. I'm still learning this. I'm pretty sure it's something that you never quite get until everyone is out of the house. I swear I feel like I'm in the midst of the first trimester exhaustion. The past 3 days, I've been burnt out with an aching head (Mental note: ask midwife about migraine medicine). Anyway here's the letter that you would have been greeted with after you opened your package. No pictures either. Sorry, just reread the first 2 sentences.
This is my first swap of any kind. I'm not good at knitting for others. I'm afraid of the fit. I'm afraid that I've chosen to knit what I like & not what the recipient will like. I'm afraid of the fake enthusiasm that will come once they've opened the package. I'm afraid of missing a deadline. All of these things have happened to me in the past which is why I knit for myself or little ones that can't fake their emotions. I guess I decided to enter Sockapalooza because the idea of knitting for a complete stranger erases all of those fears. All I hope for is a nice fit. Plain & simple.
I really do wish that I could say your socks breezed by Ms. Jolie or were fondled by Suri's chubby little fingers. What a beautiful story could have been told about the time your socks were with me in the South of France. But no, your socks stayed with me in Ohio. Your socks were with me when I was afraid that getting pregnant with TBA wasn't going to happen for much later than we expected. Your socks were with me outside of every single mall in the state of Ohio and one in Kentucky. For work, I visited every Pseudo-Punk retailer and knitting on the socks saved my sanity. Your socks were with me when the test proved that yes you can get pregnant without a period (I wish I could see that Dr. again. Who even believes that tale?). Your socks were there when my mother repeatedly told me, "You've got to be having twins. You're so big already." She almost got a needle to the eye. I would have made you another pair. Who wants a pair of socks with eye goo? Your socks were there the first time Gus said, "Mama, that's a bad word. Don't say that." I knew that day was coming. Your socks were with Ava & I when we tried to understand President Clinton's commencement speech (how I wish I could have been drunk that day). So mingling in with the purls & knits are my day-to-day stresses & joys. I hope they make you smile when you pull them on your toes.