Provisionally Speaking: In Which Count Sockula Continues To Heel

Question: What’s both top-down and toe-up and easy all over?

Answer: The Provisional Cast-on.
　
Count Sockula did not invent the Provisional Cast-On. Whoever did that was a genius.
　
However, CS is calling this the Providential Cast-On, because this is what we hit upon in restlessly, feverishly, frantically searching for a method so we could GET TO THE HEEL RIGHT AWAY.
　
Studying toes and heels has been one of CS’s primary Sock Goals. And last time, two new Frontiers were explored: an afterthought Garter Stitch Heel (it worked!) and a conventional, short-row, wrapped heel. Which did NOT work, but that was Operator Error.
　
This time, however, the short-row heel worked. Beautifully. Thanks to Knit Purl Hunter’s excellent blog and video ‘lessons.’ (Last time CS forgot to slip the first stitch on the second half of the heel). KPH likes to use a counter to keep track of stitches. CS uses markers. Whichever way you like.
　
Wow. Short-row heels. Cooool. Not at all scary.
　
So you cast on your total number of sock stitches, which means you make a crochet chain with a thickish, smooth yarn in a standout color (CS used white). Then pick up loops in the back of each crochet stitch with your sock yarn and knitting needles. Lots of sock books teach how to do a provisional cast-on. Blogs, too.
　
Then you blithely commence to knit the sock as if toe-up. Work the heel and finish off the cuff as if working a regular toe-up sock. The only difference is that you are starting in the middle, right before the heel. You can knit as many or as few rows before you work the heel as you want; for this test pair CS probably knitted an inch of fabric before starting in on the heel.
　
Once the cuff is finished, you pick up the stitches from the provisional cast-on (by turning over the crocheted chain and picking up stitches in the little bumps on the back of the chain) - simply work the rest of the sock as if top-down: knitting toward the toe. Use your favorite method for completing the toe. Sometimes CS likes the star toe. Sometimes not.
　
　
Now if you don’t like the heel, you don’t have much to frog. If you do, finish the cuff and then pick up the foot stitches and finish the sock! Socks seem to go faster for the Count this way. That’s the beauty of the Count Sockula Providential Cast-on Method. There. I’ve named it.
　
Then, for the second sock, the Count tried to work a Japanese Pick heel, loving all things Japanese. But again, Operator Error crept in. As in, there were gaping holes because CS foolishly tried to follow two different sets of instructions. When CS gave up this dualism and went to the simplest set of instructions, the holes stopped appearing and all was right with the world. We left that heel as was, and completed the sock anyway. No one will ever know, unless they examine CS’s feet, and If You Can See That, You’re Too Close.
　
　
Maybe this Count Sockula Providential Cast-on method won’t work if you are knitting a sock with a complicated pattern and maybe it will.
　
　
　
Yarn: Moda Dea Sassy Stripes, ‘Vintage,’ which would not be one of my favorite colorways, because it looks faded, except that the black keeps it from looking elegantly faded, if you know what CS means. But the ball of yarn was sitting in a carrier all ready to tackle.
　
Needles: Size 4. Different ones, short woodens for the pick-up and toes, Clover bamboos at some point, Prym circs for the rest.
　
It was a learning experience. I would size down at least one needle to # 3 for the heel next time. I stole, ahh, borrowed, two instep stitches for each end of the heel needle to make the heel deep enough. CS might even want to size the needles down to 3 altogether next time and laboriously cast on more stitches than the mere 40 this test sock was worked on.  Here is one sock with the heel and cuff (just a simple K1, P1 rib) completed, and the second just started.  Just a couple of unassuming little socklets:

　
　
If, like Count Sockula, you are a can’t-wait-to-get-to-the-heel type, give this method a try.

As The Heel Turns: In Which Count Sockula Rides Again

Count Sockula is seeing daylight for the first time in, well, forever and a half.  Not seeing daylight, exactly, because as we all know CS is a creature of the night, muahahaaa.


But the author of this blog tends to run hot and cold.  One week,, it's just too much to drag out the fountain pens and ink.  Another, sock-knitting seems like rolling boulders uphill.


But recently I had BURNING IDEAS about heels.  As in wanting to re-attempt a certain heel Which Shall Remain Forevermore Nameless---and wanting to attempt my first short-row heel with wraps.  (Which, face it---is scary!!!)


It should be noted that the Count's go-to heels are the Garter Stitch (a la Knitpurl Hunter) and Afterthought.


The Heel That Shall Remain Nameless took for EVER to knit.   And.  It.  Came. Out. Phail.


(Oh, right.  The fountain pens.  Just a reminder that Dr. inkenstein waits in the wings.)


Both pair were done on size 7 needles and Red Heart scraps because this had to be fast.  The blue pair were done from the toe up.


Sock pair One.  Nameless Heel Attempt That Phailed.

Nameless Heel was awful.  As awful as the first couple times it was attempted.  The worst heel ever.  Just an ugly little bump, and I even stole stitches from the instep so it wouldn't be just an ugly little bump but a real heel.

And the socks were TOO SHORT.  That was a first. 

So I tinked it back RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF A PARTY.  And just tossed in an Afterthought Heel!  How's that for socksmanship?  

The other sock in the pair got an Afterthought in the first place.  As it should have.


Sock Rescue One.  Success. 


Now onto the second pair.  This was bee-in-bonnet time.  The Count wanted to see if an Afterthought could be done with Garter Stitch.  And it can!  As you can see here.


Sock Pair Two, each sock with different heel type:

GS Afterthought on the left.  Short-row wrap on right. 

But you know, it's SOOO much trouble to knit.  The whole.  Sock.  When you are just really burning to try that heel. 

So I did a provisional cast-on.   Muahahaaaaa!   And it worked.  Knitted a few rounds, then dove right into the heel.  So basically the heel of each sock was worked as if toe-up.  And then, the provisional cast-on was removed, stitches picked up, and the foot and toe worked as if top-down.

Simple!  Kinda sorta. 


OK, got into a little trouble with the short-row in that I forgot to slip the first stitch and then had to get myself out of it using a double-wrap technique.  But it's a sock.  It worked.  It fits.

Unlike Certain Heels We Could Mention!

Got a heel type you want to try but don't want to wait forever to get to the good part?  Attempt a provisional cast-on.  If you like how the heel comes out, go ahead and work the rest of the foot.

Maybe this Tragic Tail of Sock Phail will help you in some way.  In any case if you ever have a Heel Idea burning a hole in your pocket, try a provisional cast-on.

Coming soon:  Dr. Inkenstein returns with Three Jolly Sailormen.

Method not Pattern: In Which Count Sockula Drops Back And Punts

Gather round the fire, my children, while I recount the horrrrifyyyinnng tale of….
　
Oh, skip it.
　
Do you like to experiment with different kinds of sock heels and toes? Me, too. I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t even have to think when knitting the double-wrap garter stitch heel, my fave. If I were to attempt a conventional flap heel I would HAVE TO LOOK AT A PATTERN.
　
The horror.
　
For patterns are to Count Sockula as sunlight is to a vampire. Once you know basic sock construction, and have played with different cuffs, heels and toes, you can just make it up as you go along.
　
Be that as it may, I will do anything to avoid having to pick up wraps, but if you don’t do something, you create the dreaded and ugly GAP. One pickless-upless method is the aforementioned garter stitch heel. You wrap twice, pick up no times.
　
Another such is the Japanese Pick method. The ‘pick’ here doesn’t mean picking up a wrap. There are no wraps. You pick up an extra stitch to close the gap, then knit it together with another stitch.
　
Do you have trouble with the Japanese Pick Heel?
　
No? So it’s just me, then. Figures.
　
Count Sockula recently attempted a JPH without looking up any reference at all, only a vague memory to guide me. Naturally. The heel just kept going and going and going, and finally I had enough and just finished it off any old how. It didn’t look good, but it was finished.
　
Then I did what I should have in the first place and LOOKED IT ALL UP. Doing so, I saw a very nice picture of an extremely colorful sock with a JPH and what appeared to be thousands of teeny gold safety pins hanging off every edge of the heel.
　
That’s a lot of pins.
　
The theory is, you use the pins to pick up an extra loop of yarn, which you then knit together with a loop already on your needles to close the gap. Then I read you can do the JPH without safety pins and just snag an extra loop with your knitting needle. Like you would any other make-a-stitch thingie.
　
I also found out you’re supposed to slip the first stitch. Which I forgot.
　
All this just to avoid wraps and pickups!
　
Then, since these were top-downs, I ended with a star toe. I just decreased evenly all around (the work was on four needles, knit with a fifth) and then cinched the remaining stitches off. It came out looking much better than the heel. So there.
　
Sock: Sort of anklet-y thingie
Yarn: Red Heart scraps
Stitches: 32
Needles: Big pink plastic comfort-y things in size 8
Cuff: Messed up. Started with 3x3 rib, switched to 1X1, then 2x2. Don’t even know what I ended up with.
Method: Top-down, trying two different heels and star toe.

My mistakes! In Which Count Sockula Talks Heels and a Toe

Gather around the fireside, my children, and listen to a sad tale of many mistakes, that you may learn from them, and not do what Count Sockula did.

Or do the mistakes anyway.  ;p

This effort was dubbed the Easter Sock, partly because I started it before Easter, partly because of its candy colors.  I might have called it the Hurricane Irene sock, since it was finished during that two-day power outage.


As I recall, it was done toe-up, in Caron Simply Soft, on 32 stitches with size 7 needles (first Bryspun double-points, then those plastic Comfort needles, finally with Prym circulars.  Yes, I switched needles.  A lot.).

I also wanted to try a closed-toe cast-on, and I think this is my favorite kind.  I dubbed it the Easter Toe, but it's also called the Bosnian, and couldn't be simpler: cast on 8, 10, or 12 stitches according to the weight of your yarn, and just knit a square, either in stockinette or garter stitch (garter used here).  Then pick up stitches all around the square until you have four needles with 8, 10, or 12 stitches each.  And start knitting your sock.  Increase as needed.  Adjust stitches on needles if you want the toe to lie square, or not, if you want it to lie as a diamond.


This was also my first attempt at a garter stitch heel, and I messed up the first one completely (though you might not even be able to tell from the photo).  This was because I was trying to do pick-method, rather than real garter stitch method.  I've learned better since, and my favorite GS tutorial is right here.


You can use this heel with either toe-up or cuff-down sockage.


This sock was taken up and put down more times than I care to remember.  It's also been my most challenging yarn - a splitty and completely ugly colorway in cotton from Araucania.  But it was a bargain!   And I'm stubborn.


This had the Easter Toe, and garter heel (one of which I messed up for a different reason, having lost count).  I used 40 stitches on #4 needles, pretty much Comfort all the way, though at one point I was doing Magic Loop with a lonnnnng Bryspun. 

I don't think you can see the heel mess-up here, either. 


But then we come to the Mystery Sock, which also took a vewy long time to complete.  

I bought a skein of this at a LYS from a bargain bin (yes, that again), but without a ball band.  Don't know the maker, don't know the fiber, don't know nothin' apart from ooooo!  Colors prettyyyy!!!!  This was probably wool, judging by the burn test, and a joy to knit, as opposed to the evil cotton sock.  It was done on 40 stitches and some ancient plastic circs in size 5.  But only having one ball of the stuff, I used an afterthought heel (and that link displays the best aftertought tutorial ever).   For the second sock I threw caution to the winds and did the old garter stitch heel.  It worked.


Ehh.  Jury's out on the afterthought.  It's good if you're not sure of enough yarn, or if you deliberately want a contrast color.  It's got its own problems, like all that picking out of stitches from the waste yarn, and having to Kitchener the heel.  Basically, it's a standard cuff-down toe, only knit as a heel.  Come to think of it, you can use some heel types for toes, and vice-versa.


Thus proving the world of socks is both upside down and backward.   More heels and toes to come.  And plenty more mistakes.

Color: In Which Dr. Inkenstein And Count Sockula Agree

Have we mentioned color?

Have we mentioned that color is what bridges the gap between the admittedly-unrelated worlds of sock-knitting and fountain pens?

(Other than the fact that we indeed once knitted a swatch using two Hero 616 fountain pens... and will no doubt some day ink a drawing using a knitting needle.)

Here is some color.

This above example of color occurs in socks, which Count Sockula knits in dishcloth cotton and other worsted-weight yarn due to the huge character flaw of impatience.


Here is more color, also occurring in the form of socks:

Who knew bloggage was such a big commitment?  

Count Sockula wrote this particular 'colorful' blog post  (which you are currently reading) some time ago and never committed it to paper, or even electrons.  It existed entirely in the imagination.   We had to start from scratch, here and now.

Dr.  Inkenstein immediately wrote a prescription for the forgetfulness malady, but it consisted of purchasing large amounts of fountain pen ink in as many colors as possible.  

Count Sockula reminded the good Doctor that there is already an ocean of ink in the house, in more colors than we can name.   Here is ink color, which has previously appeared, though as a scan and not as a photo:

And did we blog about the elusive mystery sock?   Has our memory fled to the wilds of Borneo, never to return?  What will anyone get out of all this?

The moral of this story is that we (of the split personality) like color.  We are united in color.  All those Prismacolor pencils we own are telling us something.   And that something is:

Write it down before you forget it!

You may now return to your regular reading.  x__x

COUSINS! In Which Count Sockula Gets Modern

Ever hear of this company?  Little MisMatched, or something to that effect.

No, the above are mine, not theirs.  But.   Evidently, mis-matched socks are 'teh thing' these days, and they sell some, and COUNT SOCKULA WANT. 

So I'm right up there with the times, until they pass me by again.  (These socks are a BIG mis-match.  Not even cousins.  Maybe an uncle and a niece.)

With Count Sockula's flea-like attention span, I get bored knitting a pair of socks that exactly match.  And it's a big relief not to have to think too hard about starting a sock at EXACTLY the right spot in the yarn so the second one will be an exact copy of the first.   It is just not in Count Sockula's nature.

I am also still playing around with heel types.  Therefore , the instant I heard this existed, I wanted to try a Sweet Tomato Heel with at least one of my latest pair, but these are 'Throatlatch' socks and it won't work. 

All right, since you insist on knowing: I got the pattern for that sock from a sock book whose name I forgot and made up the sock name because I knit my first such pair while watching the Preakness. 

These socks have got a huge opening, a yawning, gaping throat really, because you knit the instep short, then extend the sole and heel, after which you pick up a LOT of stitches around the opening and make the cuff.

 My first pair was so loose around the cuff I had to weave in a yarn 'ribbon' and tie them so they won't fall off.  Which worked so well I decided to leave them that way.   And of course the ribbons do not match.


More mismatch.  Though of a more subtle nature.  See?  Confined to heel.   

As for the latest Throatlatch pair , Count Sockula promises they do not match either.   Once they're finished, the picture will go up here.

One day, Count Sockula shall knit a sock with a Sweet Tomato Heel.   And you shall see the mis-matched results!  Muahahaaaa!

Burning Passion! In Which Count Sockula Solves a Mystery

About a year ago, Count Sockula bought a hank of yarn from a local yarn shop. The yarn was on sale for something like two bucks, had no ball band, and the store owner didn't have a clue what it was: no brand, no fiber content, nothin'.
　
But I liked the colors (every twilight/sunset shade imaginable). Count Sockula is made that way: 'Oooo, colors pretttyyyyyy!' I bought the colorful pig in a poke and let it sit in my drawer while I went, 'Hmmm.......'


The yarn sat patiently, waiting for me to make up my mind about what to knit with it. Then it hit me: Short-row heel.
　
So, trying to master short-row heels, I started a toe-up sock with it. I used a knitted-square cast-on and discovered I LIKE these: you simply cast on with a reasonable number of stitches, and work either a garter stitch or stockinette square (measure both ways to make sure it's a true square.). Then you pick up stitches evenly all around the square, increase as needed on each needle, and you have your toe practically done!

　
Quick as a wink, Sock One's toe was finished, using one lonnng #5 Bryspun needle on 40 stitches.  Worked sl 1, k 1, for the sole on and off.   Decided on a k 1, p 1 rib for the cuff.

All those decisions, and I didn't even know what fiber I was dealing with! All I knew was, to my surprise, I loved knitting with it. It has very short color repeats, so that practically every stitch is a new color against the mainly-mulberry ground: orange, suede, cerulean, cobalt, pink.


Oooooo. Prettttyyyyy. Photo does NOT do it justice:

But was there, I wondered, any way to tell what composition this mystery yarn might have?   Was it acrylic?  Wool?  Cotton?  A mix of all three, or some mysterious Bigfoot of fibers?

　
At a guess, it is DK weight, the springiest yarn I've ever used, with many plys, and tightly twisted.

　
No smell, no sheen and is in fact very matte and soft. Yet it doesn't feel like cotton. For that matter, it doesn't feel or smell like wool.



Then---several knitters on the Yahoo Socknitter's list suggested----dun dun dunnnnnn!----THE BURN TEST. Apparently, acrylic will flat-out melt. Cotton will ash. Wool will smoulder.


Count Sockula waited until a windless day presented itself, then went outdoors with a lighter to ingnite the yarn. After several unsuccessful attempts, the yarn----didn't burn.


Didn't melt, either. Produced something like a flat black char.

　

At a guess, it's wool. If I knew the make, I'd buy more of it, in different colors.
　

MUAHAHAAA. Mystery solved, socks nearing completion.
　

Oh, and Count Sockula decided on an Afterthought Heel for both socks, because this was after all only one hank of yarn, and it magically rolled itself into two BIG balls and two littler ones, as if it WANTED to have an Afterthought Heel.

　
We went with it. Nice sock.  Colors preeetttyyyyy!


Stay tuned for, quite possibly, some fan fiction.

Mismatch! In which Count Sockula knits more dishcloth socks

Just a lightning entry here from the Count, because I wanted to experiment with two different kinds of double-wrap, no pick-up short-row heels.

One is the garter stitch heel, ably demonstrated by  KnitPurlHunter   -- this type of heel, double-wrapping but NOT picking up the wraps--- works so well that the Count might use it to exclusion in all socks.  Instead of KPH's clicker, though, Count Sockula employs stitch markers to mark the unworked center stitches.


The other heel is the Count's own harebrained scheme: why not do the same thing of not picking up wraps,  but only use stockinette stitch!  Muahahaaaa!

And it worked.  Sort of.

Count Sockula was presented with a nice stockinette stitch heel that looked perfect on the left side of the heel (when the heel is facing the Count), but some not-insurmountable gaps on the right side.  This may have to do with stitch tension.  We shall see.

And because I wanted two different color socks, but a single yarn ball for each, I picked some Sugar 'n' Cream self-striping cotton.  Top-down, 36 stitches, worked on #4 needles for the K1 P1 cuff, switched to #6 for the heel and foot.  It's likely that for future dishcloth sockies, I will switch back to the smaller needle to work the heel.

Behold!  Cousins, all the way.  The coral-toned sock with the stockinette heel shows some green from an added strand:

Count Sockula is also beginning not to like a very pointy toe.   I pointed the toe because that meant fewer stitches to Kitchener, but meh.   I should have bit the Kitchener bullet and worked the usual 8 stitches per needle, not five.  And decreased every row after a bit, for an even blunter-toe effect.

Yes.  Mystery Sock.  On the way.  Unllikely to be finished until colder weather hits.

Knitting With Fountain Pens: In Which Count Sockula and Dr. Inkenstein Find Their Common Cause

So what does knitting have to do with fountain pens on earth? (Sorry, there---a little Hong Kong anime dub lingo inside joke).

　
Haven't you wondered?

Both Count Sockula and Dr. Inkenstein have pondered that question over and over. Well, for short, flea-flicker attention span moments anyway.
　
The inescapable conclusion is: you can knit with fountain pens. And I have the swatch to prove it.

　
Actually the fact that you can indeed knit with a fountain pen is not the only inescapable conclusion, but it's one Count Sockula has been toying with ever since a knitting thread appeared on the Fountain Pen Network. Yesterday, the time arrived for the Great Science Experiment.   Behold!!!  The moment of truth. The yarn hit the pen. The buck stopped here.

　
Knitting with a pair of Hero 616s was awkward and silly but it proves it can be done. Now to move on.
　
The profound and genuine link between fountain pens and sock knitting is just this: color.
　
I'm color-crazy. The more colors I can jam into a sock, the better. The more different inks I have loaded in my fountain pens, the better. I love color. Right now I am looking at an apple-green pair of three-pound dumbbells. They are much, much more effective than black bells of the same weight. An unfinished pair of socks in Easter-egg colors is sitting in a fuschia basket. This will make for better socks. I have a favorite omelette pan in blazing yellow and orange. Omelettes taste better in it. Color makes the world go round.
　
Some people are all about black or blue ink only. I can respect that. One of my pen buddies is a Sheaffer Blue-Black man.
　
Some people also knit socks of a single color. Yes! I've heard it's true!
　
That would not be me.
　
So now that one mystery is solved, carry on, one and all, and stay tuned for the---dun dun dunnnnn!---EXCITING MYSTERY SOCK!

Be Heeled! In Which Count Sockula Gets A Revelation

Good evening, my children.  Turn down the lights, sit back, and listen to another tale from the kingdom of Sockopolis.

So you know how, in spite of short-row yearnings, Count Sockula was unable to fashion a short-row heel that actually looked like a real, flap 'n gusset heel? One that had depth? One that fit?
　
Coming up instead with pathetic little half-heel nubbins?
　
Well, my children, the answer was so seeeeeemmmmppppllllle!  MUAHAHAAAAA!
　
In a casual little aside from one of my sock books, just a footnote really, there lay a picture of a short-row heel and some text that read: 'If you have problems creating a heel with depth, you can use up to 60% of your total stitches.'
　
Yes! Thievery was the answer.
　
Imagine that! Use MORE stitches. Steal from your instep stitches to add to your heel stitches! And here I was, using the 'normal' half of the total sock stitches for my heels. Silly Count Sockula.
　
Out came the needles and workbasket. Out came some Red Heart scraps. On went the Count's usual 32-stitch I-need-to-perform-an-experiment socklet. (From the toe up this time, just for laughs).
　
Count Sockula may have been absent the day they taught math, but I do know that sixty percent of 32 is not an even number. And 32 isn't all that big a number to start with. So (also just for laughs), I stole four stitches from the instep: two for each side of the heel.
　
It worked. A real heel, with enough depth not to be laughed at by all the other heels in the sock drawer.
　　
　
And now, behold the triumph of the short-row heel!

　
　
Yes, I know they are not identical twins. They are not even fraternals, but cousins.  But they are real heels.


 Now, once upon a time, in the ancient days of double-pointed needles and flap/gusset heels, Count Sockula was obeying the sock books and CUTTING the yarn (just as the books demanded) before knitting heel flap and turn.  Because, as you know, the yarn ends up sticking out of the middle of where your heel flap would be.

And then one day, another book said, 'Forget cutting yarn!  You can re-arrange the heel flap stitches so the yarn comes out at the beginning of the flap.  You can even knit half a row and purl back.  No one will notice, and we won't tell."  

So it was then that the Count discovered the joy of not cutting heel yarn.  And then came two circulars, with no stitch re-arranging whatever.

Imagine the sense of freedom the Count achieved at the prospect of not having to pick up gusset stitches at all!

This Cousins Sock-speriment has been an exercise in freedom.   I haz a happy.

And here they are compared to a dishcloth sock with a flap/gusset heel.

　
Once the heel is completed, placing the extra stitches back on the instep is optional, and only slightly hazardous.

Count Sockula imagines one could also make extra heel stitches, not steal them, and then work the extra stitches away once the heel is completed. But this has not yet been tried.


So---unless Count Sockula is the only knitter in the entire kingdom of Sockopolis with this heel problem---if your short-row heels are also lacking depth, you might want to try the simple expediency of  stitch-stealing for yourself.

Dishcloth Socks! In Which Count Sockula Defies All Logic

Behold! And tremble in fear, my children!
*Lightning-flash, thunder-crack*
　
Yes. It's true.
　
　
Count Sockula makes socks out of DISHCLOTH YARN.

　
　
Because, you know: colors prettyyyyy.
　
　
And Count Sockula, as yet, is quite impatient. Quite. Sitting there squinting at size zero needles and almost a hundred stitches? Alas. Not the Count.
　
　
　
Now, cotton yarn has problems. Such cannot be denied. People have tried to warn Count Sockula off cotton yarn, and with good reason. It is in no way stretchy. It is hard on the hands as one knits. And socks made with dishcloth yarn will exxxpaaaaannnnnddddd into fishnet as you wear them. Whee. Feel the nice cool breeze caress your feet through the gaps in the stitches!
　
　
This is exactly what happened with my first pair of dishcloth sock yarn: each time I wear them, they turn into fishnets, especially the soles, which were knitted with a different cotton yarn so soft and pliable it was probably made for clothing, not dishcloths.
　
　
And they were knitted on two needles, as well. Section by section. Cuff and instep. Sole and heel. Toe. Then stitched together. What I noticed is that the thicker section, the instep, was indeed made of dishcloth yarn, and it was holding up better.
　
　
The stubborn part of me insisted on trying again. I switched to a smaller needle (a size 6, if you must know0, more stitches, and this time, knitted the sock in the round, without seams.
　
　
Not bad! Better, in fact. Like a hug for my feet.

　
　
I was on a roll! Now you will note this next pair has two different-looking heels. Count Sockula is still trying to conquer the no-wrap heel, but this heel appears to be nothing more than a pathetic little bump. The other heel was done with a flap and gusset, and looks much more heelish and fits better. But flaps and gussets can be---trying.   Count Sockula still finds the idea of a no-wrap heel intriguing. Perhaps some day, I will master it to the extent that it actually looks like a heel.

　
　
On to the latest, again done with conventional flap/gusset heel. They are fraternal twins, as are almost all my socks these days. Since I am still watching Prince of Tennis, I call them Mixed Doubles.

　
　
Of course, since these are mostly bed/house socks, they don't need to fit as well as conventional socks, but you would be surprised how well they do fit.   Go ahead.  Try a pair.   Good for padding around the house or tucking up in bed.
　
　
 Coming soon:  Be Heeled!  In Which Count Sockula Gets a Revelation.

Until then--
　
　
Muahahaaa. Behold!! Socks made from dishcloth yarn.

Sad day in Sockopolis: In which Count Sockula feels like a total heel

For some time now, Count Sockula has been wondering about different sock heel styles.

The conventional heel-flap-turn-then-gusset type produces the best results.  Nice and crisp, 90-degree turn, with plenty of room for your actual heel to fit.

But sometimes it is just so dreary picking up and then decreasing those gusset stitches.

What to do?

Enter the various other heel types: Lifestyle Toe-up.  Fleegle.  Afterthought.  

Now, a foray into Count Sockula's favorite Red Heart yarn to try out two different kinds of heels on one pair of socks, both done from the toe up. 

The results?  Two sad, much-frogged socks that are finally, finally finished. 

First, we started with far too many stitches.  It was going to be a clown sock.  Frog one.

Second, we underestimated the number of cast-on stitches for the toe-up beginning.  Frog two.   

Finally, on to the socks.  At last (using #8 needles, both metal circulars and wooden double-points) they reached completion.  Usually that event makes Count Sockula happy.   Not this time.

Behold!  The top-sock heel doesn't.  Even.  Look.  Like.  A.  Heel.

It's just a pathetic little nubbin of a heel, a mere bump lying there flat and exhausted, piteously muttering, "Look at me...  I stand as a disgrace to your knitting skills!"

Don't know why.  The numbers work out.  The heel just never looks like a heel.

See?  From a different angle---this time the offending heel on the right:

The first heel, an Afterthought heel, at least LOOKS like a heel.  And the Afterthought heel has that circus come-on of seeming easy.  You just knit over a piece of placeholder yarn, then come back in when the sock's done to reactivate the 'held' stitches and finish that heel!  Wheee!  Nothing to it!   Done it successfully with baby socks! 

The problem is, for an adult, the Afterthought Heel foot always ends up too long.  Even when you take into account the fact that an Afterthought heel produces a longer foot and adjust your measurements accordingly. 

This particular Afterthought heel sock had to have its toe picked apart and shortened by two inches.  Frog three, and out.

I like the bull's-eye look of an Afterthought heel, especially with self-stripery yarn.   Hate the tedious picking up of stitches and the invariable gusset holes.

But at least the Afterthought is simple and needs no pattern.  You basically pick up the held stitches and make a toe where your heel should be.  That's right, a toe.  Doesn't make sense to put a toe where the heel should be, but that's how it is.


These socks took waaaay tooooo long to finish, because by the time Count Sockula was on the leg part, it was like rolling a boulder uphill.  A giant boulder made of boring, much-frogged sock particles.


At least I liked the colorway (Latte).


After all that sturm and drang, Count Sockula gratefully returned to conventional heelage.   This scrappy little pair is the result:

Nice, right-angle heels.   The way they should be.  Maybe picking up gusset stitches isn't such a bad thing.

I Can Has Stitch Markers?

(In which Count Sockula describes a process and shows work)

This is totally sock-related. I promise. ;-p


So Count Sockula is sitting there learning how to knit a new kind of heel and mini-gusset, and I need extra stitch markers.


Once upon a time Count Sockula didn't have any. This was when I first began to knit and did not realize all the toys that were available to knitters, especially sock knitters.


In such a pinch I used rubber bands and plastic-coated paper clips, which at least had the virtue of color---but you KNOW that I knitted at least one rubber band right into my sock.


Then came the safety pin. Such devices have sharp points. I shall not elaborate.


Obviously, these days, I HAVE markers. Nice plastic ones that have no capacity for causing bleedage.


But because (on a break from the new heel) I grabbed a knitting stuff catalogue and looked at what they had, I yearned for markers with pretty things dangling off them.


Besides, I had seen those dangly markers on someone's blog about knitting an afterthought heel.


Pretty. Shiny. I can has?


So I got out my long-unused jewelry findings and a couple of teeny flat and round-nosed pliers. One jump ring and a charm later, I had that very same kind of marker, and behold! It was indeed shiny and pretty.


It was fun. So I made another. And another. I ran out of charms, ransacked my parts drawer for an ancient Archie McPhee cache of little plasticky dangly thingys, found one or two I didn't hate, and there was no stopping Count Sockula!


If you buy the charm-type stitch markers, they get pretty 'spensive. If you have any jewelry stuff lying around, they are fast, cheap, and easy.


(There's a joke in there somewhere but Count Sockula will let it drift with the tide).


Ahh, but the story doesn't end there, my little sockulites. Went to a craft store over the weekend looking for totally something else, found a lot of pretty dangly things. On Sale! Including new shiny jump rings in different colors. Brought them home. Made more stitch markers from them.


I has a happy.

　

Behold! Teh horrors of SOCKENSTEIN!

Yes, with Sock-tober finished, and so also Sole-Vember, Count Sockula decided to mount another yarn-speriment.

 

But, my children, many a plan goes astray.   Behold!  And tremble in fear before this Sockenstein of horror! A monster, created only because Count Sockula got a bee in the bonnet about heel methods and finishing techniques!

Two socks, made by two different methods (cuff-down, with afterthought heel---the second on two straight needles, stitched up with a crochet slip stitch).

These unfortunate creatures cannot even be called fraternal twins. Perhaps not even siblings! Though made of the same yarn (Red Heart Rainbow Brights, thank you very much), one is a full two inches longer than the other!

 

Hang my head in shame!

Alas for Count Sockula that I did not heed the notations about afterthought heels! (as in, knit them shorter than one would knit 'normal' socks before working toe decreases)...

 

Alas for the poor sock, knitted to the specs for a normal heel-with-gusset!

Well, knit and learn. And shed a silent tear for these poor socks, sacrificed on the altar of science. Y_Y

(PS:  Gonna wear dems anyway... :-p)

Count Sockula invites you to knit.

Everyone has a blog. Everyone has multiple blogs, in fact. So do I. I don't really need another.

But there is so much awesome on this site, especially in the sock kingdom, that I need to encourage beginners in sockdom, in order to point you to more advanced blogs.

You can knit socks.  You really can.  Even though you don't know how to knit.  Even though heel turn directions are incomprehensible (and that's just for conventional heels!  Never mind short rows or afterthoughts!!!).

One of the most useful sock books I've found is I Can't Believe I'm Knitting Socks, by Leisure Arts.

The book has got a great tutorial (shows each part of the sock in a different color, which was pretty cool) and introduced me to the concept of knitting on five needles.  It also covers knitting with two circulars and one long circular.

Besides socks, I have an interest in fountain pens, horses and racing, barbecue (no, there is NO connection there!! Really!) and anime, from which I am learning about ten words of Japanese and one or two complete sentences.  There will be more on those to come.   And beginners are welcome.

My Life In The World of Socks:
My first sock goes wayyy back to before I taught myself how to knit. I didn't even want socks. I wanted leg warmers. So I went to one of those stores that carried curtains, fabric, and yarn.

Leg warmers are circular, right? Of course they are. Never mind the fact that I couldn't knit, and I didn't have a leg warmer pattern. I knew how to crochet, so how hard could it be?


I bought a big plastic CIRCULAR needle, a knitting book, and two skeins of loud acrylic ombre, one red, one green.


It was Christmas. What can I say?


Once I got my stuff home I realized I was never, ever going to be able to learn knitting from that book. What? Huh? WHAT did those diagrams mean???


So I put the circular needle aside and used up the yarn in a giant Christmas granny square afghan. I still have the afghan.


One Christmas when I had to stay off my feet for a bit, I planted myself in a chair and forced myself to learn knitting from that book. I knitted a Christmas dishcloth out of loud red and green cotton ombre yarn. I still have the dishcloth.


Then I didn't want leg warmers any more. I wanted socks. A couple Christmases later I bought a sock book and dug up some double pointed needles and experienced brain freeze on reading the heel turn instructions. Uwaaa!!! Made no sense! So I attended a knitting class, hoping the teacher could help me knit socks.


She didn't know how to knit socks. She just pretty much wanted to get paid to sit there in front of a slew of befuddled first-timers and finish her own giant knit coat.


I found double pointed needles about as easy to work with as handling a batch of live snakes that were stiff as a board but could still bite you.


But the coat-knitting teacher did do one thing for me: she read the heel turn pattern aloud as I turned my first heel. It made no sense, but it worked! I was a sock-knitter!


Took me six months to knit that first pair of socks. One was larger than the other. I still have those socks.


I'm not a master, by any means. I just like knitting socks and still like LOUD self-striping colors, and I am impatient so I still knit mostly in good ol' Red Heart worsted weight acrylic to produce either dorm socks or Croc socks.  Like these Prince of Tennis socklets:

Though I did recently buy a Zauberball Crazy and a set of (shudder) size ONE needles. Ehh. We'll see if I can dredge up the patience.


All kinds of needles find their way into my project bag: sproingy plastic vintage circs, sleek modern Bryspun and Inox circs, dpns (yeah, I got used to them), straights (figured out a couple of ways to knit socks on two needles), wood, bamboo, plastic, metal.


When I knit socks, I use needle sizes from 4-9, stitch numbers from 28-36 (with worsted weight acrylic), depending how loose and dorm-y I want the sock. I don't need a pattern any more, apart from a conventional heel turn (yes, I understand there's a formula for these but I haven't memorized it yet).
Since Sept. of this year I've finished nine pair of socks and am starting on my tenth (Varsity sockies, kind of Gryffindor-ish colors with a dash of Ravenclaw).

Every blog should have a point.  I guess mine is this:  you don't have to start with high-end tools to master sock-knitting, or even to enjoy and collect fountain pens.  In fact, I highly recommend you start small, and cheap, so you understand each element of a sock and its demands before you move onward and upward.  Fountain pens, too.


Postscript and furthermore: 
Once upon a time I was a real writer, but retired to happily write fan fic.   If I can figure it out I'll add links to my fanfic accounts.

And if anyone can lend a hand in making this bloggy thingie do what it's supposed to do, I am much obliged.

Watch this space for further developments.