Before I post the story of the blue sock, I'd like to explain where my post entitled "People are Fickle" went. It appears that Google has taken to indexing posts VERY quickly, because when I came home from Ethan's 3rd birthday party, I saw that I had received several (unmoderated) comments that were pretty much environmentally based (not all of them were, just some) and I had explicitly stated that I didn't want anyone's opinion about the current situation. The post was merely pointing out that we'll do anything that is trendy, regardless of whether or not the behavior should be modified based on personal health and/or beliefs. It wasn't a post about the environment or your personal thoughts on it. Look, dudes. Any readers out there who are actual scientists or economists, raise your hands. Anyone? Anyone at all? No, I didn't think so. Please keep your fighting on your forums and off my blog, thanks. This is no the place for intelligent debate, because there is no way to moderate the quality of the arguments. I am a paper pusher, not a biologist. Take it elsewhere, thanks.

I deleted the post and all of the comments, even Scooter's on how peoples' motivation can be largely based on money, which is also a good point. It's sort of part of the Trend Theorem, in which TV=people will mindlessly do it=lots of money. I imagine this is how Beanie Babies got so popular back in the 90s.

In the future I am going to make a better effort to avoid topics that could lead to soap-boxing in the comments.

Please, read a post in its entirety before you decide to mouth off.

In an effort to skip to a topic so obsessively nerdy that I imagine you will all leave in droves, I am going to talk about the socks I am knitting. Excited? Ready to give your uninformed two cents? Get ready, because this next paragraph is about wool and superstition.

I decided to knit some wool socks. I picked out a gorgeous pattern, a pattern with some interesting things I'd never attempted. The wool was beautiful, and I cast on with high hopes. As with most first attempted, I made some mistakes. The socks moved slowly as I mastered toe-up, short row heels, and intricate cables. Then, one day, Stephen Tyler Jr. stole the sock. He chewed up the skien and spit it out looking like a heap of noodles. I laughed, I cried, I mostly yelled a heck of a lot. I kept going. I knit along, untangling yarn as I went until one day I stretched it out to admire it, and what did I see? I'd totally screwed up the whole damn thing. Cables were cabling everywhere. Somehow the sock was one size at the toe and another at the heel. I cursed and ripped the little bitch back, thus losing my place in the pattern.

"No problem" I told Mr. Action Figure Stepho, who was watching me rip and curse and shake my fist with an expression I like to think was respect (although horror was probably closer to it.) "I will just start the second sock, now that I know what's happening, and pick this one up when the other one is at the same spot."

I did! I knit the second sock, and it's beautiful. Virtually problem free, even. I thought maybe the curse had been broken.

I then picked up the first one to carry on, thinking it would be as easy as your mom.

I realized very shortly that the sock curse had not been broken. I swear that particular sock has it out to get me. The damn thing has been dropping stitches, pilling, fuzzing, splitting, and cables have been crossing madly with no regard for common sense. I pushed through. I set GOALS. Today I triumphantly announced to Jenny that I was just about ready to finish it. I started the ribbing at the top and left the table where we were knitting for a minute. When I got back, she had the two socks lined up. "Are you sure your math isn't wrong?" she asked. Despite measuring and counting, that first sock was two inches too short! What the hell?? I'd even double checked. I can only assume that the first sock had shrunk while I had my back turned.

I picked it up and ripped the ribbing back, cursing some more. Then, after I'd gotten it back on the needles to work on it, one of the needles slipped out and clattered on the ground, loops of yarn popping out everywhere, just waiting to unravel. Shit. So I picked it back up, managed to dig the stitches out and get them back on, and thrust it into my purse, declaring that I was done for the day and it could sit there and learn its lesson.

When I got home I took it out of my purse, to place it on the table so it could see me working on other more behaved projects. Do you know what happened? I pulled that damned needle out AGAIN! Yes.

The other sock has been finished (problem free) for days, so I can only imagine that it's this personal sock which is out to get me.

That's OK. It's still summer. I'll finish it before fall. Still, I wonder what it will take for me to be able to finish this stupid sock? Clearly it has it in for me. Maybe I'll spray it with some fabric refresher or something to appease it.

Any ideas?