So! October is generally my favorite month, but this year I rate it a capital SUCK. I want October back. I hear people gearing up for NaNoWriMo and NaKniSweMo, but I’m getting ready for October II: The More-Better October. To anyone who didn’t get an email reply to their comment in the last non-month: Sorry. I was being chased by a minotaur.

I don’t actually have a problem with Socktoberfest, but nonetheless I try my hardest not to participate. The near-biological obedience with which we are compelled to put down the various hats and minisweaters on our needles, and churn out some footwear… Ehhh, I don’t know. It’s just a little bit March of the Penguins to me, except Morgan Freeman’s voiceover is saying, “Seriously, everyone. WTF. They’re just socks.”

This year, though, Socktoberfest coincided with one of by biannual sock binges. I bought sock yarn, taught my sister how to make socks, and I went on a spirit journey with a pair of Magic Loop socks as my guide. Before October I was pretty sure I was over the novelty of not-double-point needle socks. Guess not.

It takes a special pair of socks to be a spirit guide. My friend A’ndrea sent me the yarn during the yuckiest part of summer, and it’s Froehlich. Froehlich, you see, is the Elrond of sock yarn. It’s fine and strong and, uh, regal, and lasts forEVER. (Also, it’s inexpensive and not scratchy and comes with reinforcement thread, but that doesn’t really fit in with the Elrond thing.) Why are we not all knitting with Froehlich? Because their mill went bankrupt. I keep hoping that they’re going to magically reemerge from this like Mission Falls, but no luck yet. I’m down to a mere two skeins of Froehlich Special Blauband, and I never got to know the tactile pleasure of Froehlich Special Grunband.

I ought to be naming these socks some kind of cutesy berry cobbler name, but for god’s sake, people, socks are not food. I’m talking to you, Fiberlicious. These socks shall be called “America: Fuck Yeah!” as Mother Nature intended.

Fun Fact You Did Not Know About Me: I’m really uptight about my sock yarn collection. If all of my inactive sock yarn does not fit in one box, as shown in Figure 113 below, it drives me a little bit crazy and I have to start knitting it down to fit within the box’s confines.

Therefore, it’s a damn good thing that I embarked upon the America: Fuck Yeah!s, because on the darkest weekend of October, this arrived in my mailbox:

That’s The Singing Yarn, baby. Kessa held a contest to guess which of her awesome designs was currently being knitted and I guessed right! High five! to myself. Kessa hooked me up good… in addition to gorgeous stitch markers and some really amazing mango candy that I will not soon forget, I think Kessa’s hand-dyed yarn is just about the nicest sock yarn I’ve ever had. I’m finding that when I get a “special” yarn, I knit the longest, biggest damned socks conceivable. That’s why the Americas are currently at 12.5?. The Singing Yarn, accordingly, will become knee socks to be reckoned with. I even bought a contrast heel/toe/cuff yarn to maximize the overall length. This final skein, of course, exceeded my sock box’s capacity. Annnnggggssttttt.

Enemies: If you’ve read this post and want to send me excessive sock yarn in order to drive me insane, please email for my mailing address.