Yesterday was all about climbing that socky Mt. Everest, turning the heel. Two heels, actually. A short row heel for the second spiral rib sock and a flap and gusset heel for the Falling in Love sock.
Actually, I really like to turn the heel. I begin to get impatient and excited as I pass the toe and begin to get close to my goal. I try the sock over my hand, "Is it ready now? Now?" and I measure it with a tape measure, "Well it doesn't *have* to be much longer does it? Now?" and I have to coax and negotiate with myself, "Just one more pattern repeat and then you can start." and ignore myself asking "Okay now? Are we there yet?" yet again when I'm only halfway through the agreed upon repeat.
Turning the heel makes me happy. I carve out space to do it, sit down and give it my whole attention. Oh hai, this be serious sock knitting. I are serious sock knitter.
It's that all important midpoint of the sock that indicates to me, "In fact, you will not be knitting this forever." and usually by the second sock I need that reminder. Short attention span, party of one.
While I am still full of love for the short row heel which fits my narrow feet better than anything else, the gusset and flap heel is beginning to grow on me. I do not hate it as much as I used to. There is an elegance to the gusset increases, the way it gently arches up beneath the pattern.
After two gusset and flap heels in a row, I've become quite comfortable with the technique - which will open up that world of nifty patterned heels that I've seen on Ravelry and in magazines. I am dreaming of heels with delicate cables, intricate stitch patterns, heels that do more than just sit there. I am thinking about heels that kick ass and take names.
Yes, see, that's rather plain. I am thinking about garter stitch or seed stitch. There's all manner of ways to dress up a flap heel, aren't there? I being to see the light.
If this keeps up, I may have to invest in a pair of clogs to show off all this socky goodness.