So there I was, sitting in line, staring at my dpns and my yarn. Scared to death. Deep breath in and GO! I cast on the first fourteen stitches and it wasn't any different than any other project. Switched needles and cast on the next twelve... surprisingly, I am still alive so I switch to the last needle and cast on the final fourteen stitches. No heart failure. No black hole swallowing up the universe - huh, amazing.
I cast on without any issue - now to make sure I can join and not get all twisted, metaphorically and literally speaking. A swig of root beer and a quick prayer were required before pushing forward. After checking, rechecking and then checking again, I joined my stitches and worked my first round. One hit of my inhaler and I worked my second round... hey, this isn't so bad.
Now granted, I'm just working the 2x2 ribbing for the leg - and as soon as I can remember to attempt to master the Norwegian Purl for this, it will go much faster. I am going to work on the leg and then... well then my whole over analysis and panic attack will begin anew. I will be at the turning point.. the point where socks go to die... the point of no return... the point where we separate the knitters from the knitwits. The turning of the heel!For now though, I'm going to simply celebrate the fact that I didn't die... oh, that Pokey bought me a new knitting bag for my accomplishment of casting on a pair of socks. Gotta love a man that understands such milestones ~ and who has just fabulous taste in bags.
*Updated - during my blog crawl this morning, I found this post by Glenna over at Knitting to Stay Sane... she must have heard my plea and being awesomeness incarnate, she answered it for all! Good news Andi, I might not end up crying on your street corner after all... hehehe.*
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